I don`t care if nobody under forty can hang a door properly. I`m six and I`m bored. In the kitchen Lavada is plucking a turkey who looks crumpled and turned inside out He`s full of holes. I throw my skinny arms in the air as far as my bones will let them go and giggle. It`s ten years to Lavada`s heart attack and sixty to mine. Black overweight Lavada tucks a feather in her hair and we dance, her triceps wobblillg like charred wattles. We laugh until our jawbones sting as if we`d drunk mossy cold, rust-flecked water from the bottom of the well.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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