Part I: A Man and His Cat (and a Yo-Yo Mama)

Harry Guakomoli was in bad shape. His mouth filled with blood, a few teeth knocked out and lying in the street. And, boy, did his nuts hurt.

Harry Guakomoli started the day like most others: at noon, hungover and alone. The loneliness suited The Guak just fine; he realized long ago the life of a hero was one of forced celibacy. And the ladies agreed with him. The hangover, however, the hero of this tale could have certainly done without.

Harry Guakomoli walked, more like stumbled, down the stairs and outside. He sat down on the stoop, cracked open a 40 oz bottle of St. Ides malt liquor, and watched the passersby at the corner. His corner. No crime escaped neither The Guak's watchful eye nor his swift justice, unless, of course, said crime occurred between the hours of 4am and 1pm.

Harry Guakomoli was joined about an hour later by Oslo. The pair watched the corner like hawks, greeting the neighbors as they passed. Yo-Yo Ramirez winked at The Guak as she strolled by, swinging the serious junk in her trunk. "Shit, I wouldn't mind her working my yo-yo," Oslo remarked. Oslo was the smartest cat The Guak had ever met. He was also the filthiest in both mind and body.

Harry Guakomoli and Oslo spent the afternoon and early evening drinking forties and eating Nutter Butters. At one point Oslo tried to clean himself, only to become disgusted by the taste of the viscous fluid he found himself covered in, which caused him to vomit. The odor of Oslo's sick made The Guak queasy and our hero added to the puddle of stomach contents with some of his own, which sparked some more puke from Oslo.

Harry Guakomoli in turn spewed out more. This back-and-forth went on for several minutes. The Guak laughed, knowing his dickhead landlord would have to clean the mess up. The two gave each other a high-five, and this story's protagonist and his four-legged friend resumed their daily ritual of consuming ridiculous amounts of malt liquor.