Cannibalism
I just ran into the disturbingly cute transsexual who was my former neighbor above my old studio on West 22nd Street. We got to talking, and eventually we came around to that perennial favorite topic among New Yorkers: the varieties and vicissitudes of the rental market. This has to be the one place in the world where people compete on the basis of who’s getting the shittier deal. She said that a couple of years before I first set foot in that apartment it was home to an old man who had a bizarre proclivity for breeding cats. Eventually he left the country for a while, leaving the cats behind. By the time the animal welfare people broke into the apartment there were about five hundred cats packed in wall-to-wall, continuing to breed while eating the weak.
I feel dirty now. She ruined all my fond sex memories of that place. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll find out that a serial killer used to live in my present dwelling.
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