The next morning, donny rises before her. After snorting another line, he starts to pick up the house. If he stays here, it will be clean. Even the gazebo was kept pretty much spotless, when he lived there. Whatever, he will be a man maid to continue to have a residence.

Amanda showers in the morning, and Donny is relieved. She wouldn't be such a tribulation to be around if she simply bathed. One foot at a time, Donny thinks.

Amanda comes out of the bathroom topless. Donny thinks she resembles a walrus reared up on it's hind legs. Or flippers, whatever they have, those walruses.

Ugh. Donny's stomach churns. Her flesh is splotchy and raw from the shower water. It is good she uses such hot water. She needs to scald away the germs inhabiting her many crevices. Her breasts flop as she waddles over to the bedroom. Donny whistles as she walks past. She laughs. It must excite her to be on display. Donny wonders if she knows his catcalls are fake. If she does know, she plays along.

Donny hauled 4 garbage bags worth of trash out of the apartment. Leaving the house, he had a burst of satisfaction. He was helping her out, in exchange for living quarters. It was a mutual agreement, but unspoken. Besised, Donny could use a relationship also. Donny remembered the countless hours he spent, by himself, under the gazebo. Better to have a fat queen than to rule alone.

Donny cleaned for hours, and still the house looked only mildly presentable. Amanda was a heavy smoker, and seemed to not like emptying ashtrays. Rather than dumping them, she opted to just buy a new tray entirely. Donny counted 12 ashtrays strewn throughout the house. All were near-overflowing. Disposing of the cigarettes alone made the place less dank and murky. He filled up another bag, with cigareete butts by itself. 

The drugs finally started wearing off, and by that time, Donny was sick of cleaning. This must be enough to garner a stay once more. Amanda was a great cook, as it turned out. She made beef stroganoff, but instead of beef, she used new york strip steak. It was unbelievable. Donny ate until his stomach felt close to bursting. The sink was still over capacity with dirty dishes. Donny would tackle that tomorrow. If Amanda would cook, Donny would do the dishes. When brought up by Donny, It was agreed upon.

"You're such a good chef." Donny compliments, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you." Amanda says bashfully.

They watch a movie off a website that Donny used for illegal streaming. It seemed Donny was always breaking the law, he just couldn't help it. Whether it was prescription drug abuse, or pirating movies, Donny went through with it.

The movie they watch is a sappy romantic comedy. Donny doesn't care. Having inhaled another Oxy, he is content to watch two donkeys fucking, for all it matters to him. Out of nowhere, Amanda grabs his junk. Donny sighs. What bases must he round tonight, to satisfy her???

It turns out, Donny was the one being advanced on. Donny quickly finds that large women have a knack for blowjobs. It follows, seeing as how a plus-size lady would be eager to secure a mate, and cocksucking makes great negotiating tactics. 

Donny discovered that she was really into oral, her genetic programming coming into play as their raw gender roles are revealed sexually. Donny cums quickly. She has a ready kleenex nearby to soak up his semen. Not bad, Donny thinks. At least their sexual street could go both ways. However, Donny knew eventually she would want oral from him. Nevermind. Things were settled tonight. Tomorrow would take care of itself. 

Donny's pill supply dwindled. Without OC, he would get sick. How would he explain it to Amanda? She might want to take him to the hospital. WIthdrawel cases often resembled other ailments, like the flu. That was a bad idea. Did she even have health insurance? He might have to ask for money from her. How much? $10 might sustain him. For one day, anyway. 

"Hey babe?" Donny asks.

"Yeah Don-Don?" 

She had taken to call him Don-Don for some odd reason. Donny had protested, but his refusal might've been just the excuse to keep calling him the degrading name. Don-Don. Was it like those stupid chocolate candies? Amanda could devour a whole heart-shaped box of treats, saving those Bon-Bons for last. Donny guessed he should feel lovey-dovey at being her special treat. Ugh.

"I was wondering if I could get 10 bucks from you."

"For what?" she asks suspiciously. Donny could see in his minds eye, as their encampments prepared for battle. The rules of engagement would be set up in this first confrontation. Donny would not bring up the fact he was only staying with her for a free meal ticket. He had worked hard cleaning, and just wanted to hang out a little, do something. Alone.

"I was gonna go see a movie," Donny lied. Her next response was expected.

"I can go with you," Amanda offers.

"Well, I know you have an appointment with your case worker today," Donny says, "I figured I shouldn't be there when the social worker shows up, because it might fuck up your payments, or living requirements, or whatever."

Checkmate. Donny had his plays figured out several moves ahead. She had mentioned the case worker appointment a few days ago, and she dreaded the event. Donny mentally scolded her lazy attitude. If Donny could get a government check, with only a monthly meeting to worry about, he'd take that deal in a heartbeat. 

"Well," Amanda says, drawing out the word, as she always does when making Donny uncomfortable, "Ok, Don-Don."

She forks over two Abe Lincolns. Yes!! Donny can get high for at least one more day, maybe two. HE had no forethought what his plan of action would be after that. The moment was all that lead him. She would remain his single source of income, for as long as he could keep stringing her along. 

It wasn't that he was using her. She was using him as well. Donny knew she would probably want to fuck when he got back tonight. He steeled his nerves, telling himself that women may all be different in appearance, but they were all pink inside, when it came down to it. At least he was getting some. His hand was fast becoming his new girlfriend, before he met Amanda. Donny's palms might've sprouted hair from his palm-rubbing exercises if the lack of sex continued.

Amanda offered to drive him, but he said he would walk. The snow was melting from the die-hard sun, and the weather felt crisp. In reality, the sidewalks were a muddy mess, and Donny did not look forward to wading through the water. He just didn't want her to catch on to what he was really doing with the money.

The walk to Chase's house was an ordeal. Donny had sometimes bought an occasional Oxy from Eugene, but his African-American friend had cut him off after Donny's addiction took over. So, it would have to be Chase, Eugene's wholesale weed supplier. Eugene had confided in Chase that Jessie Baxter was the snitch, and now that stool-pigeon was silenced. Eugene had mentioned this to Donny, because Donny was still in the market for weed, but couldn't buy from Eugene because of the Asian roomate's prior arrangement. 

Chase's house was a real dump. The front porch steps were warped from the rain, and threatened to bust through as Donny climbed them. To Donny's alarm, the entire staircase leaned to one side, a canted carpenter's nightmare. Donny knocked on the rickety front door. Donny heard scuffling inside, and moments later Chase answered. Chase wore glasses, and looked every inch the red-neck. Though shirtless, his hat was adorned with a camouflaged Cabela's hunting cap. Chase was skinny, to the point of looking unhealthy. His ribcage jabbed outward, the skin plastered around the gaps in his ribs. His stomach was sunken, a hollow of flesh beneath an xylophone of bones.

"Whatcho want?" Chase asks, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, bro," Donny apologizes, "Did I wake you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, ya did," Chase says, leaning forward in the doorway. His feet remain in the entryway, but he stretches outward and spits over the shambles of railing. Stepping away from the door, Chase beckons with his hand.

"C'mon in," Chase says, tugging his tattered blue jeans to cover his buttcrack. Donny ambles into the living quarters of the dealer. A stuffed deer head blankly stares Donny down. An arrow is placed in the fork of the antlers. Chase is evidently a bow hunter. Deer insignia stamp almost everything in proximity. An avid hunter, is Chase.

"You looking for trees?" Chases asks, settling into his musty recliner. By trees, he meant weed.

"Actually," Donny says, taking a seat on the loveseat, "I was looking for something else."

"Well, what?" Chase asks, "this ain't a fucking scavenger hunt. What you looking for? I ain't got meth, or coke, so don't go barking up the wrong tree."

"Oxy," Donny says in a guttural pronunciation. Two syllables controlled his life now. Donny was back on the ox.

"OC, huh?" Chase says, stroking the faint whisps of his overgrown chin beard. He should shave it, so it will grow in thicker. It would look a lot better.  Chase smiles. His canine tooth is rotting, the gum turning black. Donny tries not to stare at it. Chase might have been smoking some harsh shit, either crack or meth. Or, maybe he just doesn't brush his teeth.

"It just so happens I have some to part with," Chase says, dipping into a tin box with a picture of a cartoon M&M candy. It was the green M&M, the female one. Chase produces the Oxy. There is just one problem.

"20 for 20" Chase says, taking out a 20 milligram tablet. 

Donny only has enough cash for half of that. Donny's beleaguered brown eyes search the baggy in Chase's hand. There are no other sizes. One size does not fit all, when a poor man is buying.

"I've only got $10," Donny says in a hushed voice.

Chase shakes his head.

"Can't do it." he says.

"But maybe--"

"It's simple fucking math, Donny. Can't you fucking count? Just subtract."

Donny's ire was being worked up, but he kept it in check. Patience and insolvency worked off of each other. 

"You can break the pill into half," Donny suggests.

"I'm not gonna do that," Chase scoffs, "no one else will buy a half-broken pill. They'll think it was tampered with. Which it would be, kinda."

"I'll buy the other half also," Donny says, "I just need a day or two to get the dough from my girl."

Chase's eyes turn predatory as they narrow at Donny. He didn't like haggling with crack-heads or dopers. It wasn't a primary goal for junkies to tread through his house all the time. But it was getting to be like that more and more. Donny tries to look as innocent as his worn face and murky brown eyes will allow.

"Oh, fuck it," Chase says, pulling out a razor-sharp hunting knife from a scabbard. Donny cannot help but rub his hands together eagerly as the pill is divided. The pill splits, but the force from the knife shoots it outward. It pirouettes from the table onto the carpet. Donny's stomach falls to his balls. No. His medicine.

"Jesus H. Christ," Chase says, dropping to one knee to look for it.

Donny joins in the reconnaissance  mission. His health depends upon finding that tiny white capsule half.

"Did you see where it went?" Chase asks irritably, pounding the table with his fist.

Donny's eyes never searched harder. 

"I've got it," Donny says, barely containing his joy. It is right by the leg of the coffee table.

"You're lucky," Chase says, snatching the $10 from Donny, "I was gonna take that cost outta your hide, my friend."

"Well, it all worked out then," Donny says, hiking himself to his feet. Chase is perturbed by this whole thing. Instead of returning it to the scabbard, Chase slams the knife into the thick wood of his coffee table. WHen releasing the grip, the blade remains embedded in the table, like a giant stinger, broken of from a bee. Donny doesn't notice the obviously aggressive gesture. He is elated to have his junk. 

Donny departs with a small amount of drugs on him. The world is good again. Donny won't get sick, he knew how to survive. He stops by the dollar store and buys a 75 cent candy bar. It is stale, but that long ago ceased being a reason not to eat. Donny had dug in trash cans before, prowling for food like a civilized bear.