Big Inca

To: The Boss

From: Bill

Date: June 27 

Tuesday night Mrs. Waterford ran upstairs to call an ambulance. She said Hack was “having a hemorrhage.”

Wednesday night, she and Connie argued: “I can’t trust you, there’ll be a succession of guys, you’ll run off and shack up with any old guy. Get out!”

Thursday, no Connie. Mrs. Waterford and Hack were arguing and singing loudly at five a.m., stone drunk. She got upset when Hack said, “Queer.” Never mind that Bridgette the poodle tried humping Herman.

Then, teasing Hack, who was asking, “Well, you gonna tell me what you’re going to get? What’s it gonna cost? You wear it? Is it above your waist?” And she replied:

“I’m not gonna give you anymore hints. Give me $1.20. OK, a dollar. You gave up, but give me the money, then I’ll tell you. No, it’s not something to wear.”

Will be so good to get off such a short cot and into an unscrunched bed. I awaken tired and sore, all twisted all evening.

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