He left her securely tied up before raiding the well-stocked liquor cabinet in the living room and then crashing in the smaller, second bedroom. He slept twelve hours, woke up refreshed, and wrapped himself in a bathrobe before making coffee in the kitchen. While the coffee brewed, he transferred his wet clothes from the washer to the dryer and went to check on Ugly. He found her where he’d left her, spread-eagled on the bed, but lying in a smelly mess of excrement and piss. Disgusted, Larson untied her, forced her into the shower, and had her scrub down. He marched her dripping wet and naked back to the bedroom and made her strip the blankets and sheets off the bed and put them in the washing machine. In the light of a new day and with a clear head that wasn’t groggy with lack of sleep, Larson found Ugly Nancy even more nasty and horrid-looking than he’d remembered. Her little titties sagged flat against her skinny chest, there was an unattractive fold of wrinkles across her lower abdomen, her pubic hair looked like a dirty wire scrub pad used to scour pots, and she had unsightly underarm hair.
