A grand tour of the knobbly terrace. Paper cup ashtrays with coffee stains still glistening, beside pyramids of dirty dishes. Scattered tissues, hardened where they landed. Nail clippings scurry under couches.
“Don’t mind Pip, she won’t bite. She only eats pillow stuffing. Do mind the rabbit, though. Captain Carrot will poop when he’s nervous.”
Indeterminate growths on the floorboards in a place where cans of baked beans are currency.
Make yourself at home.