“
Yo, Y.T.," Roadkill says, " 'sup?"
"'Sup with you?"
"Surfing the Tura. 'Sup with you?"
"Maxing The Clink."
"Whoa! Who popped you?"
"MetaCops. Affixed me to the gate of White Columns with a loogie gun."
"Whoa, how very! When you leaving?"
"Soon. Can you swing by and give me a hand?"
"What do you mean?"
Men. "You know, give me a hand. You're my boyfriend," she says, speaking very
simply and plainly. "If I get popped, you're supposed to come around and help
bust me out." Isn't everyone supposed to know this stuff? Don't parents teach
their kids anything anymore?
"Well, uh, where are you?"
"Buy 'n' Fly number 501,762."
"I'm on my way to Bernie with a super-ultra."
As in San Bernardino. As in super-ultra-high-priority delivery. As in, you're
out of luck.
"Okay, thanks for nothing."
"Awwww," he begins.
"Surfing safety," Y.T. says, in the traditional sarcastic sign off.
"Keep breathing," Roadkill says. The roaring noise snaps off.
What a jerk. Next date, he's really going to have to grovel. But in the
meantime, there's one other person who owes her one. The only problem is that
he might be a spaz. But it's worth a try.
”
”