“Jesus H. Christ Dance, what the fuck? You smell like a damned gutter.” Crusher says, his face curled in disgust.
The bitches from last night are sitting up in bed looking at me and Crusher and it pisses me off. I told them to be gone by morning. I don’t even know why I keep trying to bury myself in pussy. It’s not working anyway and I sure as fuck don’t want them around after.
“Get dressed and get the fuck out.” I growl and walk towards the small shower.
“If you’re going to wait around till I get out, make sure those bitches leave.” I order Crusher.
“Dance man…”
“And you sure as fuck better keep that gash you came with outside.”
I make it to the door before the crash is heard. I turn and look and Crusher has taken my empty liquor bottle and smashed the old mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the bed. Fuck I had been enjoying that mirror. That thought freezes in my mind as I look at my brother. His body is rigid with anger and gone is the laid back country ol’ shucks cocky vibe he normally has.
“Dance I’m warning you, lay off of Carrie. I know you’re fucked up, but that woman don’t deserve your wrath and she sure as fuck don’t need your insults.”
I want to say more to him, but truth is I don’t give a fuck. The sooner I shower and talk to his ass the sooner he’ll leave and I can find a new bottle.
“Whatever sorry I insulted your Twinkie of the month.” I grumble and slam the door on his curse.