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She was a slow moving but determined deluge of discontent on the subway platform, clenched and quivering jaw. Lethargic (she owned eight housecoats) yet restless (she kept night watchman hours), there were so many things to hate and so little time left to catalog them all.She would stockpile stale Wasa crackers and eat them on her couch, with generous spoonfuls of slippery sardines that danced their way between puckered, thin lips. Small, acrid scented piles would slowly form around her like anthills while she pondered the evening's schedule, the screen's comforting static hum playing the soundtrack of the lonely and forgotten. At these times, the voices would subside long enough for her to enjoy her programs. "Spongebob Squarepants" was a favorite; her hatred did not extend to sea life.
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