Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty

A large bathroom, all white tiled, topped by a skylight, with sleek Italian bathroom accessories resting on exposed old brick.There are tall plants on both sides of the delicate dressing table, the table is full of cosmetics, and the water vapor from the shower has formed many droplets on the mirror.There was a humming sound coming from the shower room, the tune door was raised too high and the voice sounded very weird.It's the Faz Waller song "Cash for Your Stinky Trash" from the musical comedy "It's Not Mess".The humming voice suddenly turned into libretto from time to time:

"Keep all your old papers, Save them and pile them up as high as skyscrapers blah blah blah blah blah..." Every time the libretto came up, a puppy scratched at the bathroom door. The man in the shower was Jaime Gumm, a Caucasian male, thirty-four years old, six feet one, two hundred and five pounds, brown hair and blue eyes, with no distinguishing features.He pronounces his name like "James" without the "S", which is "Jame".He insisted on reading it that way. After the first rinse, Gumm put on some Desbains cream.With both hands he spread the lotion on his breasts and buttocks; he didn't want to touch his pussy, so he did it with a small dish mop.He had a little stubble on his legs and feet, but in the end he decided it didn't matter.

Gumm rubbed himself pink with a towel and a good body oil.In front of his full-body mirror is a shower curtain hung on a rail. Gumm pushed his penis and balls back between his legs with the little dish mop.He pulled the shower curtain aside and stood in front of the mirror, happily twisting his butt up and down, ignoring the friction on his pussy caused by it. "Give me some effects, honey! Give me some effects!" His voice was naturally deep, but he used the high-pitched range, and he thought that the more he used it, the better he would be.The hormones he was on—premarin for a while, then diethylstilbestrol—didn't do much for his voice, but they did thinn out the fur in his pubic hair, which was beginning to bulge slightly. .The old man used electrocautery to get rid of Gumm's beard, and his hairline was like the "V" shaped hair tip in front of the widow's forehead. However, he didn't look like a woman. It looks like a man who came to fight someone.

Whether his behavior is really a foolish attempt to imitate a rouge man, or a malicious mockery, it is difficult to tell at first contact, and the people he comes into contact with are the kind of nodding acquaintances. "What would you—what would you do for me?" At his voice, the dog scratched at the door.Gumm put on his bathrobe and let the dog in.He picked up the champagne-colored little poodle and kissed her plump back. "Okay. Hungry? Baby? Me too." He switched the puppy from one arm to the other; he opened the bedroom door.She twisted to get down. "Wait a minute, honey." With his free hand he picked up a Mini 14 carbine that was cocked on the floor next to the bed and set it on the pillow. "It's all right now. That's it. We'll have dinner in a minute." He put the dog on the floor and found his pajamas.She hurriedly chased him downstairs to the kitchen.

Jaime Garm pulled three TV meals out of the microwave, two Hungry meals for himself, and a Thin Meal for the poodle. The poodle devoured the main course and dessert, leaving the vegetables behind.Only bones remained in Jaime Garm's two saucers. He let the puppy out the back door.The cold came: he held onto his bathrobe tightly.There was a long and narrow strip of light at the opening of the door, and he watched her squatting in this strip of light intently. "You haven't shit yet. Well, I won't." But he sneaked a peek through his fingers anyway. "Oh, it's great, you little girl, you are such a noble lady, come on, let's go to bed."

Mr. Gumb loves to go to bed, several times a night.He also liked to get up, to sit with the lights darkened in one of his many rooms, sometimes something aroused his interest, and to work for a while during the night. He started to turn off the kitchen light, but stopped again.He thought of the leftovers from dinner, and pursed his lips in a deliberate, judicious manner.He put away the plates of the three TV dinners and wiped the table clean. A switch at the top of the stairs turns on the light in the basement.Jaime Garm took the saucer and started down.The little dog barked a few times in the kitchen, pushed open the door with its nose, and followed him down.

"Okay, little silly." He picked up the poodle and led her down.She twisted her body and sniffed at the saucer he held in the other hand. "No, no, you've had enough." He put her down, and she followed him through the sprawling, multi-level basement. In a room in the basement directly below the kitchen was a well that had long dried up.The rim is two feet above the sandy floor and has been reinforced with modern well skirts and cement.The original wooden safety cover is still in the old position, so heavy that children can't carry it.There is a flap on the lid, which is large enough to hold a barrel.The trap was open, and Jaime Garm scraped the leftovers from his and the dog's plates into the well.

In the blink of an eye, the bones and the bits of vegetables fell into the utter darkness of the well and disappeared.The puppy sat up and made a begging gesture. "No, no, it's all gone," said Gumm. "You're too fat now." He climbed up the basement stairs, whispering to his puppy, "Fat Bread, Fat Bread." He didn't say whether he heard the shout echoing from the black hole, which was still quite powerful. ,wide awake. "I beg you!"