Looking across the table at the old folks, Kitty wondered which of them would be the first to speak, what they might say if she were not there, and if they had any idea how to handle the situation.

Interestingly, neither of the old folks spoke a word. Figuring he was playing Bill Bellichick to Lance’s Tom Brady in this game, and knowing that he didn’t even have a backup warming the bench, King got up from his seat. Madonna asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Playing the role of Gisele, Kitty shook her head, “Sit down.” King froze, but did not do as he was told, until Madonna told him the girl was rigt.

King remained silent, watching the two females staring at each other, trying to guess what was going through their minds. He assumed that they were both thinking what an asshole he was, for any number of reasons, the most likely being that he had never owned up to being the boy’s father. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The females who sat across the table from one another, staring silently at each other, were thinking about fucking Lance.

To be more specific, Madonna was wondering if Kitty already knew that she wanted to fuck Lance, and was already making plans to do just that.

And Kitty was wondering if Madge knew that she was already onto her.

Then Kitty heard the sound of Lance’s voice echoing forward in time from yesterday, as he burst into laughter when he called Madonna, “Old Leather Pussy.”

The laughter in Kitty’s head was instantly contagious, and she erupted into spasms of uncontrollable hysterics.

In turn, Kitty’s laughter made the old folks laugh, which made Kitty laugh even harder, because they obviously had no clue WTF she was laughing about.

This understanding caused Kitty to marvel at the power of laughter, especially in tense situations.

This made Kitty clap her hands, while staring at King and Ciccone, who were, no doubt, now wondering WTF she was clapping about.

Kitty decided to see if she could make the two of them start clapping, while continuing to laugh out loud, just because she was doing so, neither of them having a clue as to why they were now laughing, and clapping.

Sure enough, they did, which made Kitty laugh, and clap louder, and faster.

And then Kitty remembered that there was some serious shit on the floor, and she had to deal with it.

Rising from the table, Kitty said, “You two stay here.” Then, pointing at Madonna, Little Miss Kaboodle fought the impulse to say, ‘I’m onto you, Old Leather Pussy,’ while saying, “Maybe you can have a talk with him,” pointing at King, “and explain a few things.”

Neither King, nor Madonna had a clue as to what Kitty was thinking that Madge should explain. Both of them wished she would enlighten them, but resisted the urge to ask her to do so, primarily because they both wanted the mouthy kid to fuck off, and let them talk to each other without restraint.

So, Madge said, “Yes. I will have a little talk with him.” Not about how she wanted to fuck his illegitimate son’s lights out, mind you, but she’d come up with some shit to baffle him.




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