HOW TO CLEAN CIGARETTE SMOKE OFF WALLS. CIGARETTE SMOKE
How to clean cigarette smoke off walls. Glass of clean water
How To Clean Cigarette Smoke Off Walls
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Death of Ston part 1
Ston stands outside along the seawall, looking out at the ocean smoking some sort of chemically laced cigarette that if the wind was blowing the right way would fill the alleyway with a stench of burning tires mixed with sewage. He leans back against the wall, contemplating going back to the Hound’s Head for a beer with a bit of a quiet growl.
Libby exits the building as deciding to take a break and just stretch body for an moment. Leaning back to the brick of wall, she closes her eyes as she thinks. Her nose then twitches when detects the aroma of smoke.
Ston considers that this is turning into another rotten day when he sees a clean slight blonde walk out of the alleyway. She apparently has not noticed him yet, so taking a step forward he asks “You want a smoke? It’s good stuff.” His gaze looks the girl up and down rather obviously with a leer, his smile showing an abnormal amount of pleasure at her showing up.
Libby Kayor eyes open startled when sees the big male suddenly appear. Her nose wrinkles up more as he just stinks. Shaking head to the offer of whatever he is smoking. Libby would silently curse herself for ditching Silas this morning." no... no thank you.." trying to appear calm and composed as to not agitate the man.
Gaston Khandr (Ston) walks along the wall, circling around Libby, moving himself between her and the alleyway "So what's a pretty girl like you doing out here?" He licks the corner of his lips after his question, hands moving down to his belt line.
Kevv Nitely screeches to a halt. He had been running about having fun and did not notice anyone around. He crouched down, waiting. He thinks 'oh lord, did he really just say that?' as his eyes narrow and he crouches down. His ears flick back, then forward, listening as he remains crouched down.
Libby Kayor body moves circling as he moves till back hits up against the metal piping." I was just stretching my legs is all. Now if you would excuse me I need to get back to work.." carefully watching him as heart begins to pound faster in chest. Waiting as if expecting him to move out of her way.
Ston squarely puts himself between Libby and the alleyway and smiles at her request. He shakes his head and says as he starts to take a step towards her “Now now, why would you want to leave? We were having such pleasant conversation.” He looks behind him, notices the alleyway door is closed and the street is rather far, thinking he’s safe … so does nothing but block the passage. He does impressive blocking stuff, otherwise known as standing there, as he assesses Libby. If he was not so concentrated on imagining the girls clothes coming off he might notice the hybrid crouched around the corner.
Gaston Khandr stands there, contemplating the meaning of happiness and butterflies and their relationship to rainbows and how there must be a direct correlation between the satisfaction one gets from ones’ life and the amount of gummy bears consumed by the general population. He shakes his head a little, going back to leering at Libby thinking to himself the shit he’s smoking must be good stuff.
Gaston Khandr still stands there. He probably would have jumped the girl by now if he was not so stoned, but as is time is meaningless and he just continues to undress the girl with his eyes, enjoying all sorts of fantasies in his head, some of which involve rubber ducks and jello.
Gaston Khandr has been standing there for 30 minutes, or is it 3, either way Ston’s dred out mind has been encouraging him to make a move so he pulls out a knife with a leer and licking his lips he says “Now, stay very quiet and I won’t cut you up too much.”
My boy runs off to Chile for a week, leaving me and his dad and the cats to fend for ourselves on the home front. By day, I dust silhouettes on the walls, wash the wallpaper, reorganize, oh, everything. It's been some thirteen years since this place has been cleaned properly (that same math = the last time a woman claimed this address as residence, which: really, fellas?). But great is my reward. Every night his father takes me out to dinner. We have our rhythm down now: after the check comes, I find the ladies and pee while he smokes a cigarette outside. I do not smoke. I crave history. I meet his grandma. She teaches me what's in the garden. Once they rode trains across the country, the two of them. The furniture on the porch was there before he was born. When is the last time I read a novel in my nightgown, in bed? Last night. And tonight there will be more of the same. This world was made for reading, readers, remember? Remember how you used to do it, under the quilt with the flashlight, an ear always on the door? It was between that and crouching in the hallway outside my parents' bedroom, watching as they watched Moonlighting, or Thirtysomething, or Quantum Leap on the little black-and-white, ready to leap down the hall and flop under covers at the slightest sign of life from their bed. The key was staying up later than I was supposed to, regardless of the means. To be awake as long as possible. Remember how much you hated going to sleep then, sure you were missing the best of all possible worlds? The big time, the real time, that occurred, what: after ten? It could be Souderton outside, where I am right now. What it sounds like, I mean. Cicadas and whatnot. Baltimore's two hours south of where I grew up. Windows wide open. In a minute, I will steal down the stairs barefoot, take two Oreos from the cabinet, eat them both before I get back into bed.
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