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Sunday was an early start, as I had an early night on Saturday. Still trying to fight my cold without any meds. As I was in the kitchen with Canadyen, we heard Madamemoiselle Francais and Blood Clot. The two of them were nearly breaking into Princess’ apartment. I opened the kitchen window, the sun still not completely out yet, enquring about their silly behaviour first thing in the morning. I needed my chai. I cannot function without it. But the two were so hysterical I wanted to know what was going on. Princess did not open his door. Either he had a ‘friend’ accompanying him from the night before, or he was too hung over.

  

The night before had been Fez and Barbie’s stag and doe. Cougar had made all the dinner preparations. The mad men and women all met at hers at 8pm. Prozac had bailed. Despite her ‘cold’ feeling, we thought she might have had another episode. Her buddy Valium did show up though, with Mr. Editor.

  

Getting back to M. Francais and Blood Clot, they told Canadyen and I that we must come down and see something. And so I slipped into my flip flops and ran down the stairs. Clothes were scattered all over the garden; underwear and shorts. A poor khaki was displaced in the gutter. Cougar stared out her first floor kitchen window, imprisoned by the blue bars, that protected her from the night before. They belonged to Crash. Crazy had thrown them out her window during their weekly domestic. We all suspected that Cougar was behind the fight, always trying to seduce Crash.

  

At 3am the night before the drama, we had heard the noise; drawers being thrown about, glass shattering, losts of cursing. I thought it was our Romanian boys, young and full of energy, at their usual Saturday nonsense.  

  

But we discovered later on in the morning, after following a trail of blood, that it was in Crazy’s place that the drama had occurred. After a few pictures, Canadyen was kind enough to pick up Crash’s underwear, not knowing whether they were clean or not. And before taking it away, he passed it on to Cougar for one final sniff. She caressed them close to her bossom. Princess finally awoke and joined us. Someone had left him another gift. This time they were yummy. Kenya stood from her balcony asking us what had happened. Drying her clothes on the balcony, she had first thought that the ones that had laid below her apartment belonged to her. She had missed all the action the night before, dancing away at some bar, not having a care.

  

The clothes were returned to the crime scene. I did not dare knock on the door, but left them outside. Maybe the pot stealing askari would find them and add them to his collection of things in the abandoned house. Cougar leaves in a week. We will be lost without her and all the drama that she has caused the last few months. But I am sure..there will be more.