the transformative power of art

Why were the girls up at 7am on a Monday?
Coming off an all night drunk, of course.

Fuss heard them through the heater vent and made demands.

"Meek? Scary guy?" he commented, jabbing his index finger at the back stairs.

Scary Guy is a 6'x4' painting of Dayduh's that currently resides in Meek's hallway, a pale fetus with a distended head that exudes a sense of cannibalism floating over a blasted wasteland. It had hung previously over the marital bed of a failed relationship. Fuss' relationship with it is equally complicated but less resolved, as he fears the hallway but reacts with confusion and dismay when the painting is moved or hidden.

Bowing to the inevitable down we went, finding the ladies in the kitchen where Meek was composing a plate of the only thing I've ever seen her make, poached eggs on toast. Hers were a bit rubbery and crumbly in the middle, which didn't stop Dayduh from returning her portion to burner for potential carmelization.

"I hate them runny!"
"They're supposed to be runny."
"I DON'T CARE!"

They ate and I drank my coffee in the living room to vinyl accompaniment by George Harrison. We had a few pleasant moments to ourselves while Fuss tried to puzzle his way past the anachronistic cat door in the kitchen. The previous evening's drunken revelation that Meek's inexplicable yet ongoing not-relationship with Youngdad(tm) was like cigarettes was broached, then the comparison moved on to heroin. I too the metaphor and, as is my wont, ran with it, promoting the use of The Librarian as a kind of human methadone.

Fuss eventually lost interest in the immovable cat door and returned to jam with George on the out of tune piano. My coffee finished, work beckoned and I gathered up Fuss while Dayduh lay across Meek's lap on the couch and writhed, it had something to do with imposing the smell of a cat piss chair she'd sat in at their friend's house.

"STOP it, don't make me wash these pants!"
"If you come up and mind Fuss while I shower you can watch Hoarders on the couch."
"DONE. Although I might pass out."

And that was our morning.