Its empty hole was arising. THE CUNT mother had made two million by marrying a rich man when it was thirty years old. On Monday THE CUNT asked THE CUNT its mother for money. THE CUNT mother refused. Now THE CUNT had driven itself as close to suicide by money as it could get.
Money is simply rejection.
THE CUNT opened the gray metal safety vault stored under the shoe shelf. It put all the papers except for bills, my adoption papers, and its medical insurance back in the vault. THE CUNT transported the valise, the vault, and its brown poodle Mistaflur to the New York Hilton Hotel. When the New York Hilton hotel refused to accept its expired Master Charge card , THE CUNT slipped them a bad check. At noon THE CUNT walked the half block to THE CUNT its mother's hotel.