I'm sitting on the special window seat, trying to peek through the slats of the window blind, when the Woman leans back and says, "Are you trying to look outside?"

Um, no, lady, I just like the dust on the freaking blinds.

"Do you want me to open them for you?"

Geez, don't take yourself away from your literary masturbation work to do me any favors, now.

And don't get your shorts in a wad when I walk away after you open them. The point is that they're open, not that I sit there and stare at the little rat-dog who spends all day on a balcony in the next building. He won't jump anyway, and I have other things to do.

Like howl at the blinds to the patio, until you get up and open those, too.

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