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¡Nooooo!- Kelsey held on to her teeth, as the air exploded all around her.
-¡Oh my freaking
God! ¡Oh my freaking God!- Drew exclaimed.
Kelsey told her
self not to look, that it was probably just an acid-rain flashback. She
hitched-up her head, bamboozled her gums into opening her mouth and spat at the
fire in the sky.
But it just fell
back into her face, like Madame Valda had shot-off a squirt gun.
-Don’t gob at me.- The fireball
replied. -I’ll do the spittin’ around here.-
Drew ran backward
whenever snails entered her house: this is how she became known as Queen Slug.
She didn’t mind the slug part, but she felt she was more of a goddess and Kelsey was more of a queen - a drama
said, so help me Dustin Hoffman. -¿What are we gonna do now?-
-We’re going back
to the old house.- Drew Morrissey’d. -It can’t be as fucked up as Shadyside
Manor, that’s the puss hole of the world.-
Shadyside is one of the major puss
holes on this planet.- Kelsey said and then burped.
-The less we know,
the better off we are, because the ocean used to be made up of water.- Drew
said, while two of her fingers said that this wasn’t the case and that the case
was still in court.
-Spare me your “The
fireworks shall inherit the earth because they’re safe and sane”
speech.- Kelsey commented.
-¡Look!- Drew exclaimed,
starting to fall asleep. -Fuck me if that’s not Coca-Cola.-
The “cola” she was
referring to walked into the house, sat down and ordered a complete
neurological work over.
-We can’t stay in a
house that serves semen-spattered wine.- Kelsey said more as a question.
-We can stay at the
whorehouse next door.-
employees?- Drew asked. The treated air had gotten to both of them.
-¿Who, me?- Kelsey
asked with ingratitude.
-¡Look!- Drew woke
up long enough to shout. -¡The eye at the end of your punk ass!-
Kelsey said, asking for another spit shower. -¿It’s the ectoplasm that’s
nowhere near a mannequin but your mechanic killed your dentist with a crystal
wine glass? Yeah, wake me up when that happens.-
But Drew did a
zit-head.- Kelsey said. She had considered calling Drew a rat’s ass, but it
sounded too vitriolic.
singing about a girl who was a few years old. They introduced money into the
chorus and a psychic-mechanic who fixed the wings of vultures and the speech
impediments of soccer players.
And as the girl
died, the song died with her.
-Idiot machine, the
engine won’t even turn over.- The dead girl said, as she punished the pedal to
the metal. She did this until the car set itself on fire.
-¿Did you see that?- Kelsey said. -That chick is
in the middle of dying.-
Drew looked at the
-Yeah, it wasn’t
much of a car.- She said, breathing to make sure she was still alive.
The two first said
nothing and then they started jumping up and down.
-¿Are we dead?-
And then a grating
voice exclaimed above their jumping, and Kelsey and Drew turned their feathers
around in sections to look.
-¡Nine into ten!
¡Nine into ten! ¡Nine into ten!- The grating voice grated. -You’re only lost in
your minds. ¡Don’t make me vault down there and smack you!-