# 72 – Like a Pseudohermit


Liza was dragging big time by the time she got home.  All she’d done was stop by the cemetery and hang out at the mall for a couple of hours.  She felt like she’d just completed one of those mud runs that Jake was always training for.  Maybe she wasn’t meant to function like a normal human being.  Hadn’t it always been her dream to be a successful, un-famous artist so that she could rarely leave the house and keep any schedule she wanted?

A wave of junk rolled out of the car with her.  A golf ball clacked down the curb toward the sewer.  Where the hell did that come from?  That was probably what got stuck under her gas pedal on the bridge.  She made a mental note to clean out the car the next time she managed to get a spot near her house.  Or, you know, she could park in the driveway out back, but that would be too easy.

Liza paused outside the front door.  She didn’t know who was inside.  Jake’s truck was down the block, but he could be at home.  The smell of cooking food hit her as soon as she stepped inside.  A mountain of clothes were piled on the sofa, clean and meticulously folded.  Oh Jesus, even her bras and panties.  Sam was in the dining room fussing over place settings.  Michael was cooking what looked like a pork roast.  It smelled amazing.  His clothes were still a little ragged, but they looked clean.  Bruce and Jake came up from the basement.

“Hi,” said Bruce.


“Hey, Bitch!” said Jake.  “Just in time.  Come and see the shelves that the Professor made for you in The Hole!”  Liza tried to smother her happiness as she followed the two of them back down to the basement.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s