70: Kitty Kat’s got your Tongue
‘Once upon a time there was a little boy; he was sitting on the floor. The floor was strange to him, but he was in love with the concept of foreign in nature, so his curiosity peeked to the point of ecstasy. He was staring up at a little girl on a blue couch. She was 30-years-old yesterday, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and wool socks. He knew better than to look away. He knew he’d always stay, but time knew he’d always be every single place on earth in any single moment. That tomorrow would never come, and that somehow, someway; this girl of his would never change. She knew him better than he knew anything else, time that is.’
“Baby, go make me more coffee, would you!” She looked up from her book and tossed her cup into his lap. “Almond milk! Tons of it! Poor it faster, wont you! You move so slow slugger. I’m starving!”
The little boy is well behaved; he secretly loves to do what he’s told. Especially when he has no choice: by her command. He has no shame. No decency. No precious self respect. He has no name, so she calls him everyone. Olivia Sage, Ollie for short, sport, kid, goofball, fucker, one gorgeous son of a bitch. Bitch. Babyboy. Babygirl. Sage Sage Sage. Hey Kitty Kat’s got your tongue.
“Sage!”