After Ned goes to bed, I go to Avery’s. I mean Sean’s. I mean the haunted house. I guess I’m starting to think of it as Avery’s apartment but he still has his other apartment, with roommates, right, and does he ever go back there?
Anyway, right after I arrive the doorbell rings and Avery says sorry, I have to get this, and then he buzzes someone in and I can’t believe it, it’s Don and John in matching camouflage parkas with fur around the hood, and I have nothing to say to those tired bitches so I smile blankly and then hide in the bathroom while Avery makes the deal. But then I realize I should have gone in the bedroom, right, what am I going to do in the bathroom besides stare in the mirror and pop more zits?
When I get back out, Avery’s kind of edgy — what’s wrong?
What do you mean what’s wrong?
You seem kind of edgy.
I’m not edgy. You’re edgy.
I’m just thinking about Army and Navy.
What do you mean Army and Navy?
Those snotty bitches and their camouflage parkas, did you notice they had fur collars and I’m sure that fur was real. The next thing you know, they’ll be wearing the whole uniform.
What’s wrong with camouflage parkas, it’s cold again and the military thing is in right now.
You did not just say that.
What? What did I not just say?
The military thing is in.
Mattilda, haven’t you noticed?
Of course I’ve noticed, and that’s the whole problem.
Mattilda, you don’t have to take it so seriously.
Every time I see camouflage, I want to vomit. Or shoot someone.
Mattilda, Mattilda, you just said you want to shoot someone when you see camouflage.
That’s right — it makes me feel violent. It’s violent.
It’s just a look, Mattilda, it’s a look. A lycra camouflage bodysuit is not violent.
Oh, gross — don’t say that!
Lycra camouflage bodysuit. Lycra camouflage bodysuit.
Okay, okay, you would look fierce in a lycra camouflage bodysuit. With camo stilettos. Camo-lettos.
Camolettos — that’s brilliant. But what about the bustier?
Coostier, chante. Chante chante chante.
Oh, you’re getting couture on me. A Chanel coostier — who’s next?
Geoffrey B. Small.
Oh, now you’re getting local. Make that a Chanel coostier, with a Geoffrey B. Small micro-mini made from recycled camo, fresh and bloody from the battlefield in Kuwait.
Don’t forget the glasses. Goggles.
Yes, bitch, night vision goggles. You would look fierce in a pair of camo night vision goggles.
Camo coochie goggles.
What are coochie goggles?
The better to see you with, my dear.