Mona’s Mad

“—”

“Good morning to you too.”

“—”

“It has been a week. You can’t still possibly be mad at me.”

“—”

“I said I was sorry. I made a mistake.”

“You had sex with Judy.”

“She speaks.”

“You are an asshole.”

“I am.”

“Why did you have to have sex with Judy?”

“It is complicated.”

“You both got drunk and decided to fuck.”

“It isn’t real complicated.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It felt more convoluted in my head. You really just sort of nailed it.”

“Asshole.”

“Look. It wasn’t the intention to have sex. We just hit it off and one thing led to another.”

“She is Trudy’s sister.”

“Yes she is.”

“And you didn’t even call her after.”

“Wait. What?”

“You fucked my girlfriend’s sister and didn’t even have the common courtesy to call her after.”

“Yes I did.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. She didn’t answer. Or call back. I texted her too. Here look at my phone.”

“But she said…”

“The proof is right there.”

“It is.”

“Look, we both regretted it the next morning.”

“Didn’t look like it when we walked in on you.”

“Well. It is complicated.”

“Mike.”

“That ass though. You know I have a weakness.”

“Thought you were a leg man?”

“I am a connoissuer of the female frame.”

“Goddamn it Mike. Do you know the place you put me into with this shit?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like her?”

“I did. I called her the same day.”

“I’m going to send Trudy the screenshots. Maybe she can figure out why she didn’t call you back.”

“I don’t care about that. I just want you to not be pissed any longer.”

“Well I am.”

“I brought donuts.”

“Less so.”

“Bear claws.”

“Less.”

“And that Foo Foo coffee you like.”

“Machiatto with two shots of espresso and extra whip?”

“Yep.”

“Did you say it?”

“Yes. Tomato machiatto.”

“Did they laugh?”

“No.”

“Told you it wasn’t fucking funny.”

“Meh.”

“Meh.”

“Don’t mach-iatto me.”

“Boo. And put you tongue away. I know where that nasty thing has been.”

“We good?”

“Ish. Bear claw me bitch.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Now. Bitch.”

“There it is.”

Thank God. I was worried I would get frostbite on my balls if it got any colder in here. You don’t know how much you need someone to talk to until they stop talking back.

“I talked to Trudy last night.”

“About what?”

“Scissoring.”

“What? Seriously?”

“No but I had to make you look up from your phone. About Judy.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so sad.”

“But you know how curious I am.”

“Ugh. One track minded.”

“And?”

“Judy really likes you too. She didn’t answer or text out of respect for us.”

“Why the lie then?”

“She thought it would be worse if we knew the truth.”

“What truth?”

“You blew her mind.”

“Told you I was good.”

“Sounds like you found her clitoris too.”

“That’s twice!”

“Once. And you probably just got lucky.”

“Under the left arm, right?”

“Moron.”

“Is that the g-spot?”

“You are brain damaged, you know that?”

“It probably doesn’t exist. Like the female orgasm. A myth.”

“Did you hit your head this morning?”

“I don’t remember.”

“So. You gonna call her?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Out of respect for myself.”

“We both know you have none.”

“Hurtful.”

“Accurate.”

“Doesn’t make it less hurtful.”

“Good. You are an asshole and deserve it.”

“Nope.”

“So are you going to?”

“Going to what?”

“Call Judy you dumb bastard.”

“She texted me last night.”

“Oh shit.”

“We have a date this weekend.”

“Where?”

“My place. I am going to cook.”

“But you can’t cook?”

“Can’t find the mythical clit either. I will improvise.”

“Improvise?”

“Remember those cooking classes?”

“With Ellie. Yes.”

“Well, turns out I had some skill. So I kept taking them.”

“No.”

“Yep. Just finished Italian. Make my own pasta.”

“For real?”

“Don’t sound so dismissive. It isn’t that hard.”

“Judy mentioned that.”

“Ha ha.”

“So what was her name?”

“Whose?”

“The girl in the class you stayed because of.”

“You wound me.”

“Well?”

“Becca. The instructor.”

“Did you?”

“Seal the deal? Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No. It is hot in here.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“I won’t.”

“C’mon.”

“Let’s just say I’m not allowed back on campus. And to thoroughly clean off the counter before use.”

“Eww.”

“I didn’t think they would do night time tours of the facilities.”

“Oh no.”

“It is a community college. Who tours a community college.”

“Mike.”

“All those eyes. Flour everywhere.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, I kept going. But it really ruined the groove.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t like to leave things half finished. They escorted me off premises.”

“What about her?”

“Her head was in the oven. Unless they can identify her by ass she is fine.”

“In the oven?”

“Like Sylvia Plath.”

“Too soon.”

“She died in nineteen sixty three.”

“Forgive me mister poetry expert.”

“Forgiven. Are you looking it up?”

“February eleventh, nineteen sixty three. Damn.”

“I told you.”

“And I am supposed to just believe you?”

“Once in a while. The Bell Jar was a brilliant look into depression.”

“Wow. Hard to believe you are single still.”

“I know. I cook. I know poetry. Got the dick game on lockdown.”

“Oh for fucks sake.”

“Don’t hate the player Mona. Hate the game.”

“Your hood is showing again.”

“They call me the Reverse Oreo.”

“Do they?”

“Yup. MC Period cause every twenty eight days I have the sickest flow.”

“Gross.”

“The Word Burglar?”

“More like Turd Burglar.”

“Cause I steal your shit.”

“Racial appropriation is the term you are looking for.”

“Look. When I was doing a nickel in county…”

“A nickel in county?”

“Hard time.”

“With all those swinging dicks around you, I can only imagine.”

“I had to shank some bitches.”

“Is that what they call it?”

“Snitches get stitches. All I’m gonna say.”

“I wish.”

“The names have been changed to protect the dissidents.”

“Please stop.”

“You know how I do.”

“I really don’t.”

“Rollin in my six four.”

“You drive a Mazda.”

“Mazda six with four doors.”

“That isn’t what they mean.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

“So it could be.”

“No.”

“Ridin dirtay.”

“Don’t say that again.”

“Ridin?”

“Dirtay.”

“Look at you finishing my…”

“—”

“—”

“—”

“—”

“Fuck. Sandwiches.”

“Hells to the yes. Tomato…”

“Potato.”

“I don’t think that is how it goes.”

“Miscatto?”

“Same wavelength.”

“I need to pour drain cleaner in my ear.”

“Speaking of drain cleaner in the ear.”

“You do not have a story about that.”

“No. Hmm. Seems like I would though.”

“So just a poor segue?”

“I hate those things.”

“Segueways or segues?”

“Yes.”

“The weird bike or the literary device?”

“Yes.”

“Were you going somewhere with this?”

“Just curious where you would take it.”

“I’m glad I’m not mad at you any more.”

“Me too.”

“There’s always next time.”

“There is.”

“So one time I’m absolutely knackered…”

“Knackered?”

“British for shitfaced.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“So we’re using the Queen’s English now?”

“We are. I put a u in color and say shedule instead of schedule. I queue instead of standing in line. And call my trunk a boot.”

“Sounds Canadian.”

“A boot time you noticed, eh?”

“Back to the knackered segueway.”

“Turns out they are not meant for excessive drinking or off roading.”

“Really?”

“And the security guard you borrowed it from will throw his keys at you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Banned from the mall of the Southside to this day.”

“Are you beaming with pride?”

“And what if I am…”

6 thoughts on “Mona’s Mad

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