Pineapples don’t have sleeves

The house in Moose Lake is a total loss, along with all of Chrissy’s possessions. She’s currently sitting on your couch at the Old Piedmont apartment wrapped in one of Beth’s bathrobes being comforted by the twin she never knew she had. You, meanwhile, are giving Pyewacket the grand tour while your sociopath brain tries to find a logical solution to the present situation, being well aware of the Middle English proverb, ‘Two women in one house, two cats and one mouse, two dogs and one bone, never in accord as one.’

Your lizard brain has a raging erection.

Not too much discussion was needed to get Chrissy back here. Her Corolla is parked at Beth’s place in the lot, and Beth has graciously loaned her a few pieces of clothing that sort of fit her. Looks like you’ll be dragged along shopping tomorrow, although a simpler answer might be to just throw a couple grand at the girls and spend the day hunting the cloud for the other pair of twins.

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight is about spending time with the girls and trying to keep Chrissy from losing her shit. She’s in a serious funk for pretty good reasons. All she has left are the clothes she came in with, a car, and a cat. You’re already thinking about how to fix that... you’ll need her insurance information. Actually you probably won’t need it, you have enough of her personal info to take care of that on your own. You’ve run a couple games on insurance companies in the past and this looks like a perfect opportunity to try a new one out. Doesn’t hurt that you have a real claim. Of course most insurance companies don’t pay out on arson claims... but you can usually get them to settle if you threaten litigation.

But here you go getting ahead of yourself again. While you’ve been brainstorming you’ve absentmindedly found an old bin that’ll pass for a cat box in bad lighting, a dish of water, and a can of tuna for the little beast. Uncle Bob (Heinlein) said ‘How you behave toward cats here below determines your status in Heaven.’ You’re kind of inclined to believe that (inasmuch as you believe in an afterlife at all), and have always been fond of the little furballs. And the furball in question seems to appreciate it, nodding regally, the white V of fur between her eyes bobbing up and down. As she daintily tucks into her snack in the back room you return to the living room to check on the girls.

And immediately dismiss your prior concerns about discord between your sisters, who have clearly gotten past any sort of awkwardness. Also any sense of modesty or propriety. Or clothing for that matter. Chrissy is laying back against Beth’s naked bust, her own cartoon boobs protruding almost comically as she cranes her neck to the side to lock lips with her twin.