I own my teacup. I was able to take this rickety old teacup and renovate it. Others rent theirs. Mostly with cannabis. Though I've heard tell that the currency used to be opium.
Regardless, this one's mine, and I'm not giving it up.
Occasionally my teacup breaks. That's when I talk to Jo, mostly. She tends to forget about me.
This place was razed to the ground after the zoo incident. The walls are trembling just thinking about it. The old tasmanian devil died before her eyes. No violence, just life leaving the body. Jo cried.
“What the fuck, Jo,” Barney had scolded, “they're horrible creatures anyway.” Jo looked up, then averted her eyes. The girl walked to the nearest bench.
“C'mon 'tard, I didn't mean it,” he called out, “I just don't see why you care about it. It's not cute or anything.”
Jo has a mild behavioural disorder. Knowing this, Barney had begun to refer to Jo as his 'social retard'.
A sharp realisation met Jo on the bench. Barney was a prick.
Her head made the decision. Emotionally she was shattered, much like my dear old teacup. Jo and I picked up the pieces together.
I eventually helped her heart catch up with her head. I suppose I had an agenda. My teacup residence depends on her happiness.
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