...Punk ass trippin in the dead of night/ homies score and key is gonna fly, punk ass fly ....
So I said to her, I don't know all the terminology, like what the hell is a rule change, and what if she doesn't decide to go back to work, maybe she thinks, 'hey, this homeschooling thing is fun' and then you don't need me after all, unless it's scripted, because I don't know how much reality is in these shows, and I don't really believe in reality anyway.
That's probably the truest thing you ever said. You can stop right there. That's fucking hilarious.
See that room with the one small table?"
That's where we're playing.
It's a small crowd.
We can challenge them to wrestling.
Coco comes round as I make up with blue eyeliner, frowning. I lean back; she reaches forward to pat my breasts, lifting and squeezing each one.
"That's all you."
"I said I wasn't going to augment."
"I know, but... damn, that's a good bra."
I shimmy, coo, flirt, flip my hair, pose, lean, pout... and realize I've been playing versions of this role for fifteen years.
Two days ago, to the Prince: "See you. I'm off to find something trashy. Not that I don't have that already."
"Okay, something trashy and NOT BLACK."
Head to one side, Fluffy surveys me. "It's awfully short and tight, Mama."
I am the Vampy Other Woman. The woman in the Wife role is ten years my junior, but she frumps up nicely and I am convincing, despite the harsh fluorescent bathroom lighting's declaration that there are fine lines around my eyes, and I should make up a new lie about my age.
The moon hangs heavy on the horizon, juicy, like a slice of slightly overripe peach.
Perhaps we're all just hungry.
The reason the moon looks so big is because we're seeing it through all the moisture in the atmosphere.
And the water acts as a magnifier, does it? What are those stars over there?
That's the Little Dipper. I thought the moon looked big because it IS big.
You never saw stars in Jersey? It is big, but it's also very far away.
Not through the haze of smog, no. What are those red stars over there?
Shut up about the stars already! I'm so hungry...
Those are the Polar Lights.
Right, they're on that stick because that's the East Pole.
And those are the Polar Lights.
Should I go around this traffic circle one more time?
Why there's a traffic circle around a bunch of pine trees in the middle of an agricultural area occupies our fancies for the next ten minutes or so.
Giggling ensues. Chortles, hoots, guffaws, chuckles, snarfs, whoops, snickers, and all other words for cohorts who love one another's company making joyful noises occupy us for the fourty minute drive home.
All too short a ride, considering.
(Dynamite Hack covers NWA's Boyz-N-the-Hood)