the cockroach sitting on the couch sipping coffee and smoking a bent cigar glared at me this morning as i staggered into the living room with the stale scent of wine and a mouth that tasted like a dirty ashtray

the milk is spoiled

i nodded and scratched myself with the vigor of a man twenty years younger

we are out of toilet paper as well

i shrugged and opened the fridge to root through the empty pizza boxes and styrofoam containers of chinese takeout with varying levels of grease to mold ratio

did you eat my eggrolls i hoarsely called to the chiton covered bastard

he blew out a series of smoke rings into the haze filled room with bars of sunlight like lasers coming through the yellowed blinds

didn’t have any name on the package, finders keepers dipshit weepers

one day i will smash the little bastard

maybe after breakfast

maybe not today