no-good, do-nothing kiss hits the pavement
don't. get. me. started. word around the campfire is that kathleen has thrown jimmy out on front street and told him to never look back.
"kat and kiss are over," is what sodapop told the press this afternoon, as he set all of jimmy's shit on the curb. all of his shit meaning three trilbies, a pair of winklepicker boots, some black denim jeans and a bottle of jack.
you know, i bet the doll loves all the people she surrounds herself with; they are good for all sorts of things - like ratting her out to the fence! sodapop and trotsky were stopped outside of kathleen's love shack after kiss got the royal boot and that's when they started saying shit worthy of a good eye-roll.
they said the kisses' love is dead and that the doll was only keeping up with the charade, because she knows jimmy has no money and no where to go. she was hoping that cielo would bring them closer, but no such luck. trotsky also added, "he looks like death," much to no one's surprise.
evidently, kiss knew something was wrong when he showed up yesterday and his security code wouldn't grant him access through the gates. the best thing is, he just turned heel and immediately got a room at the flophouse hotel - which i'm pretty sure has foilies on demand through room service - and started boozing it up. so, naturally, when the flashers talked to him outside today about the breakup, he wiped away the alligator tears with a dirty paw and said, "we're not over - we're on a time-out." no, jimmy, you got dumped. it's nice to hear that you still have your sense of humor, though.
in other kiss news, he got a new job. he now works concrete - he and the streets are becoming one, because those eight-balls won't buy themselves!