Gentle Giants

We knew it wouldn't be 401, but neither of us was doing anything better...
Indiana: "Well, you're not a busty co-ed, but I guess you'll do."

In over six months, I still have only spoken to my landlord once, and that was the morning I signed my lease, piss drunk, blowed out of my mind, fresh from the apartment of a girl who "just couldn't do it in the bed her boyfriend sleeps in." I had to speed from Hollywood, via The Valley and wanted nothing more than to die in my own filth on the couch, for at least a day or two. I recall something about having bad credit, a horrid stench, her young daughter's misplaced kittens, and an undistinguishable, cacophonous language.
Of sound mind my ass!
And that's the story of Lisa's first words.

(continued...)