"O what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive" or, in Joey's case, outright theft. Poker night at Ignatio's was a special
treat for Joey, not for for the game or comraderie with similarly dysfunctional members of the community, but for
the long bathroom breaks during which he would sneak into the bedroom and rifle Ignatio's panty collection. The
"Hello Kitty" caper, weeks before, was not planned, but rather a reaction to a noise at the bedroom door after which
the panties made a beeline from Joey's nose to his pocket in under a second.
Later that night, in the mellow
glow of sublime afterburn, he had told a woman (who's name escaped him, like so many names) that he had bought them
for her in the hope that it would display his true feelings for her, which she could not quite process after
breathing half a dozen pheromones in half that many hours.
His hands around the tailpipe (of the BMW), Joey
pondered these things, and pondered the atomizer which he had installed in the woman's car which was making that
awful scratching sound, and was wondering how he would extricate himself from the impending fury which was sure to
follow.
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