At the DMV putting tags on my plates that aren’t mine because we’re still missing inspections and emissions. Twenty dollars with a Groupon. The car, the same one as her twin. Exactly. Same color, same year. Both bought from sister in laws.

Blonde now. The light one. Highlights. Kind of Ashy, says Musette.

I get an alfredo pie. There are corkscrews in it.

It’s bigger than I can eat, says the waiter.

But I can eat it, barely. It really stretches my insides. I’m dying at her mom’s house, and she’s talking about driver’s ed tests. A new car, old car smell. Same as her twin’s. I remember her stinking. Musette doesn’t though. Guessing she didn’t swallow the poop like we did. Being in the intensive care unit for five days. Something like ten thousand a day. Guessing you could say I smell. Sometimes you just don’t want to live. The babies are always crying. Sense like sight emerging slowly. Creeping in.

You’ve got a long way to go, unless I twist you a little incorrectly on my knee or neglect your crying for a couple hours. About that long in a car should do it. Change the game. Just like Neegan. We’re all Neegan. Is it manslaughter if it’s just a little baby. So many cute toys. Let my grandma live, you little bitch! Go back where from whence you came!