James
is talking on the telephone. Bobby is doing his hair again, wielding the expert
comb. Gert is pouring champagne for all. James knows a groovy way to drink
it—pour salt in it. It makes more bubbles and stings and also helps you burp.
There is some fried chicken. “You dig hot sauce?” Eat. Drink. Have a ball. “So
long, baby, I’ll call ya.” He hands Bobby the telephone to hang up. “She’s in
love with me ... Well, like I’m all man, you know.” He reaches for some more
chicken, a real hot piece. It’s out o’ sight. “Hey, Bobby, come put my socks on
for me, man, so I can spend these few precious moments talking . . . It really amuses me, it don’t humiliate
me, just amuses me to see a cat be so stupid because like the truth is gonna
come out anyway, man. I feel a little bit hipper than the cat, I don’t have to
do it physically cause I can out-think the cat and make him blow his own thing,
cause he’s gonna like, spend most of his time trying to keep me in a bag, but
he’ll be in the bag, man, trying to hold me there. Like, you look in the bag
and I won’t be there!”

simply A MUST. GET IT! UH!
ReplyDeletegreat. thans
ReplyDeleteLooks great! Thanks!
ReplyDelete