I don’t want to be alone with her parents anymore. They’re all going to think that I’m chatting up some chick, the way I’m sitting here writing into my phone, texting as they say. In a way, of course I am. Time’s New Viking and all. But, like really though, I’m not a direct cheater or nothing. Can the grand-all be considered an individual? The general audience. My little cult following. I want to be by myself with everyone.
We return to her mom’s apartment, and I make a beeline to the porch. Call it currentivism. Call it whatever you want. None of it matters. I’m not feeling much like living, so I keep not buckling my seatbelt. We’re going to go get pizza. There’s a guy there who wasn’t nice to Mother last time.
Two Mediums, we say. Half pineapple, half Olive, half supreme pepperoni, half supreme vegetarian.
Nobody eats easily on this world anymore. We’re all in death water. Up to our noses. There’s always another ache.