Pink always said that he lived with his wino father but I never saw the guy, ever. His mom was both insane and dead. Everyone called him Pink because his mother dyed her hair pink about six years ago and everyone at school said she looked like a pink headed whore.
His father was either old, crazy or both. God, there were waist high piles of plastic bags everywhere. A dirty old rug covered most of the shitty floor. A rusty radiator and a stack of greasy old porno mags. Fast food wrappers cigarette butts half eaten food & live shells. Jars, jars and jars everywhere.
There were fist sized holes in the walls reeked of defeat. There was a TV in the corner.
Upstairs, I heard a shower come on. Then a body jumped in.
I sang a hammer-headed requiem to myself at the bottom of the stairs.
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