He fingered a slit of the vinyl blue upholstery of his
cushion in a vaginal preoccupation passed onto males through the
inheritance of this cellular knowledge called sexual instinct. Low
levels of guilt oozed from him more subtly than foaming breakers of
beer in a mug and yet he didn't feel that he had done anything wrong.
This moment was no different than other times of malaise in the
past. He wasn't specifically troubled about the fruition of his wanton
fantasies to meet his uncle in the hope of using him for some money.
Money should never rest. It should be spent or invested. If it were
invested it would be used to make more wealth or for philanthropy that
ameliorated thievery. He agreed in a vague way with Kumpee who vaguely
inveighed something to the effect that a bit of money from a more
affluent pocket into a poorer one helped the economy and was a just
act. Likewise, he was not bothered by the release he had gained
earlier in a bit of sex with his youngest sibling. This activity was
to him just an extension of a back rub in a good massage compounded in
a bit of sportive wrestling. It was a due owed to him for undergoing
the stress of looking after the younger brothers and keeping the
principle of family alive.
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