"Stop fidgeting!" he shouted past the canvas.
"That's easy for you to say," I said. "You're not the one freezing your nips off."
I was standing in the kitchen, nude, holding a pie in one hand and a toy robot in the other. I wore an apron around my waist, thick, furry boots and a fake, push-broom mustache. Just a typical Sunday afternoon in the geniusy art world.
Matthew stared. "You're really beautiful. You know that?"
"Your mom's beautiful." I said. "Are we almost finished? I gotta pee."
He...
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Published on
November 11, 2009 12:09
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