PREVIEW
... basement of his mom and the hinges screamed like they were crying out that they needed oil.
The air was as suffocating to him as a stale burrito--musky, laden with the odor of unclean socks and remorse.
"Gerald! Take this load off me with these groceries! the voice of his mom was bellowing down the stairs, and it was sharp enough to pin-point his ear drum.
"Yeah, yeah, Ma, I’m busy!" yelled back he, half a way down the wobbly steps. Busy, right. Such as masturbating to pi ...
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