It's never too soon.
Charlton Heston's death is announced at
ohnotheydidnt:
ecctv freely admits that she has no soul.

"LOOKS LIKE WE CAN GET THAT GUN OUT OF HIS HANDS NOW"
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"LOOKS LIKE WE CAN GET THAT GUN OUT OF HIS HANDS NOW"
He undresses with vigor, pushing me down onto the bed, and I cringe a little at the contrast between his hairy belly and a pair of too-tight BVDs. We're in Chile, mind you, and tighty-whiteys never went out of style here.
But when the man-panties come off, the cringe turns into a full-blown flinch.
This is the smallest "man" I have ever seen, and here he is, pulling this dom/aggressor attitude like he's Rocco Sifredi's Chilean cousin.
( Collapse )
Tremoring with the poison of the previous night's libations, I look over across the wood-paneled floor and see... a kitten.
A kitten... eating a used condom.
...you've got to be fucking kidding me.
I groan and swipe at Pedro's cat, trying to snag the dirty latex from his teeth, but all I get is bitten. HARD. One more attempt, and the little fucker is actually drawing blood from me. And I am way too hungover for this.
I swear in English and roll back over into bed, convinced that I am hallucinating. And when I wake up an hour later, still hungover as shit, both the kitten and the condom are MIA. Pedro is eager for me to leave. Apparently he forgot to tell me about his girlfriend.
So I forget to tell him about the cat.