I need to tell you about a house. It is not a house of charms, not a house of comfort, it is a house I visited last night in the night. It is long and narrow in its formation - everything is on one level. The yard is hemmed in by a twisted metal gate and th neighbors' land tenses up against it. You might see the corpulent craterous next door matriarch riding her John Deere, without feck or hap, around their lawn. She smiles big, all two-toothed and gummy, and lays a claim of ownership on all she sees so don't get in her sights or you will be manipulated into behaviors that you loathe.
Inside the longhouse are many many guest bedrooms. Much much in the way of cracking antiques fill the rooms, ugly, threadbare sheets and flocks of fat ceramic geese, wall to wall carpeting that is rough to the touch.
A food fight breaks out between myself and Ham Paw. We throw fried chicken at each other's heads. A mad fleshy fat man enters the longhouse draped in nothing but a hospital gown. I collar him and lead him around with a leash as Ham Paw spanks him with metal rulers.
Later Ham and I enter the bathroom/sanctuary. In the bathy waters is a fermenting body subject to maggot consumption. The body is a man that was once a small girl, it is still both things at once, and possessed with a spirit of animation. We forensically examine the site and see entrance points in the ceiling where small toxic leak drips penetrated, invading the territory and the man, subjecting him to the ugliest of decomposition-takeover.
We lock the bathroom and name it a sarcophagus. We exit the longhouse without incident and go to town for some more fried chicken which this time we do not throw, we eat with various sauces on the side until morning.