"Ja, he's is been plannings on doing dats for a while nows. Sayings dat dey havings enough room fors it but nots enough rooms for de strays or whatsdefucks ever." He honestly didn't know the whole story, he rarely went over there for more than a couple hours a month. He wound a lamp's cord around itself and tucked it into the box before sealing it shut with a spool of tape.
"Ja, uh, why ams you being asks?" He looked up at Miniver, taking a puff of his smoke before getting another box to empty out the other bedside table. It was closer to the poet, and more interesting, as it was his own.