"Joel knew that Janie had come to him for protection and sympathy. He also knew that those two things were all he tried to give her. "Why did she have...to come to my bed?" he thought. "Why didn't she stay on the couch like she said she'd do?"Dressed now, Joel walked into the kitchen, grabbed a half-full gallon jug of milk from the refrigerator and took a drink from the plastic bottle. He spit it into the sink. "Sour! Shit! My whole fucking life is sour now. And shit, too. What the hell can I do?. This story is very difficult to write, you would think it would be easy since it really happened and all the details just have to be written down, but no, it isn't. First there's the little problem that the wrong person might actually read it, like my Mother, or my Sister (who I have already shown anyways), or the Pope in Rome. I've been spending quite some time in my room writing lately and my family is probably becoming suspicious. I don't know if the Pope is aware of my scribbling and. More

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