Kendra Malone works. I don’t know where she works. I’m guessing she doesn’t work for her
uncle. She may. There is nothing wrong with that. She reminds me of an oyster cracker or
something intangible. She is
tangible. She knows what a slinky
is. I have never asked her if she
knows. I just assumed she did. Everything written so far is assumed except the
work part. She once said somewhere that
she works, I think. She has a cat
Delores. Here is her two-minute mind:

“I closed my eyes and the first thing that I imagined was the butt of
the girl I am dating. It is huge and very firm. I picture it with a red pair of
panties that stretch across her whole butt and look comfortable with her tramp
stamp visible. Her tattoo is of a cat and I think of my cat Delores. I open my
eyes and Delores is staring at me from across the room and I feel really
guilty. Al Green is playing and I think that maybe that is why I am thinking
sexy thoughts so I turn it off and close my eyes again. I think about all of
Trish's freckles and how much I like her teeth so I open my eyes again, feeling
stupid for not being able to think of anything very imaginative and poetic. My
girl, my cat. I think I like my eyes open better. I cut my knee shaving today
because I woke up late today due to the xanax I took before bed last night,
which is why I was late to work today. I can’t look at anything else. The cut
is pink and raw looking because I just picked the scab off. I close my eyes and
think I should really stop being less gross and focus on being more
imaginative.”