Thursday, August 30, 2012


Ms. Marshall called a house meeting tonight — to talk about Abby's drinking, are you kidding? Abby and I already have plans – I get paid today and we’re going to Bertucci’s for vegan pizza and cocktails— we don't go there often because it's kind of expensive, usually it's red curry at Thai Dish or momos and hummous at Trident, but you can only have so many momos, right? This is only our second time at Bertucci’s, but now that we have Heavy-Handed Wendy’s schedule we know exactly when to go – she pours a 16-ounce glass pretty much full of Absolut, and charges you for one cocktail — so, truth be told, we’re actually saving money when we go, right?

I mean, it is true that Abby starts every day with vodka over ice, but honey, she just got out of a relationship with Champagne Shampoodle, and you'd be drinking every afternoon too if you went out with that bitch. Especially if she was still living in your house. The worst part is that now Sham is stealing things from everyone — drugs, money, clothing — I caught her the other day with one of my black t-shirts on – oh no, Ms. One, she said, this is Calvin Klein. Bitch, a Calvin Klein T-shirt is $12, I just have them because the black doesn't fade so quickly. And, now I have to mark them all with my initials. Now everyone's getting locks on their doors, which is kind of depressing and can you believe the other night Sham-bam took out this suitcase phone in her car and acted like she was going to call someone – oh, Ms. One, Daddy cut it off. Then she stopped at Shell and asked if anyone wanted anything, since I guess that's the one credit card she has left. Don't ask me what I was doing in her car.

I bet Ms. Marshall is going to accuse Abby of all the drama, so we really don't need to be there just to check out the effects of the tanning salon on the skin of the 17-year-old. But what should we get on the pizza? Broccoli, spinach, mushrooms, onions — artichokes, I don't know about artichokes. Okay, let's try them.

And yes, here come those magical cocktails – I don't even like Absolut, but I do like Heavy-Handed Wendy, that's for sure. Oh, the artichokes — these are delicious! Should we get another cocktail?

 I have to say that the T is so much more fun after help from Heavy-Handed Wendy — Abby and I are queening it up on the platform and no one’s even bothering us, or if they are bothering us then we don't notice. The other day I was waiting for the train, and some guy came up to me and said: Your ass stinks.

Honey, I said, what are you doing smelling my ass?

And he said: You know what I want to do with your ass?

Kiss it?

And he picked up some discarded soda can from the ground, and then stomped down on it. Then he finished the bottle of whatever he was drinking, took it out of the paper bag and said: You know what I'll do with your head afterwards? And he hurled the bottle up against the wall; it smashed all over the tracks.

Luckily he got on a different train. But then I was painting my nails on the platform, and this group of kids walked by, I guess they were getting out of school or something and what was I doing up so early anyway but these kids couldn't be more than 12 or 13 years old and the kid in the back with crooked glasses and a bowl cut kept staring at me. And I couldn't help but think that when I was 12 I had crooked glasses and a bowl cut, so I was smiling at him, trying to be friendly, and he came over and looked at me and asked: Are you gay?

Honey, I said, I'm a faggot.

And he scrunched up his face and said ew, that’s GROSS. And then, can you believe that some old woman sitting there looked at me like I was the one creating a scene, it's a good thing she didn't say anything because then I really would have.

But that wasn't all – then I got on the train and someone sitting in front of me turned around and said: Stop following me, faggot. And then, after a few minutes, he got up and change seats so he was right behind me and then he started punching the seat, over and over again, saying faggot faggot faggot FAGGOT, faggot faggot faggot FAGGOT — I mean, it was kind of a good rhythm for late-night runway but this was the middle of the day and the point was that I didn't want him to think that I was scared so I didn't get up. And I didn't want to look back because I didn't even want him to realize that I noticed the whole seat was shaking, but he kept getting louder and louder and of course no one in the train said anything and I kept wondering if he was going to stab me so finally I turned around and said bitch I know I'm a faggot, but is that really what you want the whole train to know about you? And he took his hand like he was going to punch me in the face right there but then instead he slammed it into the seat so hard that his hand started bleeding, and I didn't want to get blood on me so I got out at the next stop just as I heard him yelling about how that faggot’s gonna give him AIDS.

Anyway, tonight there are no incidents, which is a rarity, and when we get home everyone's already in bed or something, even better. Abby goes to bed too because tomorrow she's visiting her family and the Christian fundamentalist cult in Bel Air, Maryland so she has to get up early, what a nightmare and speaking of nightmares it turns out everyone isn't in bed yet, because then Sham-bam arrives with Sean and they want to go to the Eagle. After a few bumps of coke I'm easily convinced but the Eagle is as boring as ever and then we’re back at home and somehow we all decide to stay up and go with Abby to the airport, Champagne promised her a while ago that she would drive and I guess she's actually following through, probably because of the coke. Sean and I are doing bumps of K in the backseat and should we bring it inside or would that be dangerous. We all hug Abby goodbye and honey can you believe these runways they have at the airport I love these runways but Champagne won't let us stay, she says we'll get arrested so we drive all the way back to the Savin Hill T and Sean and I head right back to Logan, more of that CK One in our noses, the one that doesn't smell like the poison every faggot Boston sprays all over just to block my nose, I swear if the fire extinguishers went off at Avalon the floor would just be coated with cologne and honey don't you realize I need to get lots of things into this nose I need it clear yes clear for that pure roller coaster white and yes, it turns out we have to take a shuttle bus to really get to the airport but we meet Elena, Sean says she has fierce hair and oh, she's just turned 60, happy birthday! She wants to know if we’re entertainers.



kayti said...

Having a gal you don't know smell your ass is a lot of drama but you dealt with it well. I know this is fiction but are you sure this didn't happen on the metro. I mean we have plenty of bratty kids there. Talk about gross

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Thank you! And, oh my, the DC Metro can't even compare to the drama of the T...