Aunt Harriet liked to live the good life, and she often found herself out living her income. It was a constant battle to find the money for those tedi...us little bills, things like the gas and water and electric. Always at the bottom of Aunt Harriet’s list was the rent. The landlord was a weedy little man of about forty, with slicked back dark hair that looked to be thinning, and beady little dark eyes in a long thin pointed face. He gave the illusion of a little man, but he must have been at. The word of a crazy, bi-polar, probably psychopathic cunt herself, however, was not all that confidence inspiring. Her son Brad and I were little more than fuck buddies, and only on a few occasions. I honestly doubt he would even have remembered my name. He was a player in the truest sense of the word, and in a high school of over a thousand girls, he must have dated at least forty of them, and fucked well over two hundred. I couldn’t help but remember with a hint of amusement when I saw her in. More

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