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The dead whore was stuck in the corner somewhere. No one was quite sure where, perhaps behind the bookcase, or maybe under the couch. No one wanted to look for her, because no one wanted to find her. She was there when we moved in, but hadn't begun to stick much. By now, in truth, the smell was getting a bit out of hand, but nothing that a couple of Pine air freshener trees couldn't handle. Fuck, we had picked up all the condoms and old bottles of Colt '45 when we moved in. Isn't that enough work on the place? The old dead whore wasn't ours. She's someone else's mess.
Besides, a dead whore like that had been ole' Jerry's only chance at getting laid. Now don't take me wrong. He was totally shitfaced and it was disgusting, but also a fucking riot. We laughed and laughed. Fuck, I'm still laughing now. So I guess she's earning her keep.
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