I groan as I stare out my window, coffee mug in hand. Listening to the Screeching from the courtyard below. She was back at it again. Yelling for my men to have me come see my 'Poor mother.' Seriously, she wasn't even impovered, standing there in her ridiculous feathered gown. Just another one of her acts. How did she even expect people to believe her in that getup? She looked like a exploded ostrich with chicken pox. I sip my drink, sighing, my tone dry. What fun... a free performance...
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