Where do I start? I suppose from Friday night.

Where do I start? I suppose from Friday night. I left your house and drove home. All the way there my mind was on you and the too-short time we spent together. I opened the door to

the suprise of the burglar who was finishing up inside. I rushed to action by unleashing my glock from its holster and holding the looter in it's gaze. "You ready to pay the piper?

"Ready? Me? Are you?" The burglar looked above me and I

met his gaze at the chandalier which was wobbling dangerously, what did I care if it fell on his head though - or mine come to think of it?

Suicidal chandelier thoughts are what occur to a drunk aging queen who made his Boca Raton retirement as a set designer. My boredom was punctuated by sex and violence but I

had an urge like never before. An urge to find a Pinata and beat on it with one of those floating pool noodles. Which can take a while, I realize. I must find a pinata

In the shape of a Teddy bear. Only whipping something fuzzy with a noodle would get her off my mind even if her scent still lingered

on its fuzzy little hide. She snuggled with it every night, its beady eyes reflecting the beauty I'd risked my life for. When she crushed it, I took her teddy bear and tortured it

mercilessly, as if that would bring me any solace. The bear still sits in my garage, gathering dust while I try to move on with my life. I keep telling myself

that it could have gone the other way and I'd now be no more than poop on the forest floor. Despite what they said, it wasn't right to arm bears.