“Yes sir, you are right, sir,” I replied. Truthfully, my starving stomach had no allegiances.After I had consumed my food, he said, “You stink, ...oy, we need to get yer cleaned up.”“Sorry, sir,” was all I could offer in reply.“Not yer fault. But in this house, we bathe once a week. On Sundays,” he proclaimed.“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” I replied.“What’s yer name?” he inquired.“Maurice, sir,” I answered.“No 'sirs' here, buddy, name’s Mac. My surname’s McDonald, but everyone just calls me Mac,” he. I didnt have enough money for admission (dumbass), but even as I talked to the cashier I heard the telltale signs of someone getting fucked nearby, the loud, grainy moans on screen, and the clear ones from someones wife getting it hard. Luckily, the cashier let me go through. It was close to pitch black inside, I could just make out the faint outline of a woman with her legs dangly off either side of her seat. A group of 20+ men watched quietly scattered throughout the theater as her husband. More

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