“I’m always on edge around your friends,” Murphy’s friend Bronx once told her. “I’m always afraid I’m going to be the butt of some kind of terrible racist joke.”
“My friends aren’t racist!” Murphy insisted.
“What about that one time with Bill?” Bronx asked, glaring angrily at her.
“That’s why I think all kids should be put into cages until they turn 21,” Rico said, as we waited at the intersection for the light to turn green.
“Would this be in addition to your plan to forcibly sterilize everyone until they learn calculus?”
“No excuse not to learn calculus,” Rico said. “It was the most important class I ever took in college.”
“I never took calculus.”
“Really?”
“You were a bio-chem major. I was history.” I pointed out.
“And see how that worked out for you?” Rico smirked.
“Touche.” The light turned green, and we proceeded up the on-ramp and onto the freeway. “Let’s compromise. Everyone gets forcibly sterilized until they can pass a class on ethics and sex ed. No one gets let out of their cages until they graduate college or get a GED.”
“What, you want high school kids to read?” Rico asked sarcastically.
“Of course not,” I quipped back. “We don’t read. We ain’t nerds and shit.”
Last week I discussed my friend Bill and his luck with women. I promised I’d talk about the other half of Bill’s lot in life. . . his status as a fucking weirdness magnet. I also promised I’d tell the Tale of the Black Widow Hot Sauce.
Here it is.
Capricious Musings 