by Gregory Napp
"This place only sells ribs, chicken wings, and beer."
"Check out the tables. I better not get a splinter."
"You should be more worried about the benches. The splinter's going to be in your ass."
"No doubt. That's one short skirt."
"You don't like it?"
"I like it, I'd just never wear it."
"Because you can't."
"Screw you. Let's see you in it."
"Oh, I can get in it, but it ain't gone be purty."
"LOL. Hey, they've got a back porch. Let's sit out there."
"Groovy. It's too smoky in here."
",' pack-a-day said."
- - -
"What can I get you ladies?"
"Three High Lifes and two-dozen hot BBQ wings."
"Coming up in less than five minutes, guaranteed; or it's free."
"Take six, we're unemployed."
"Sorry, Mrs. Can't do that. Be back in a flash."
- - -
"To the end of Pan Papers."
"Cheers to that."
"I still can't believe it."
"Move on. Damn. BBQ on my beer bottle."
"On your face, too. You look like you've been eating raw rat."
"What's the name of that guy who worked downstairs? The one with all the sweaters."
"The other copy editor? He was cute. How come he never hung out?"
"Gross. With all those bumps on his forehead? What was his name?"
"Ronnie. Yeah. He's moved on—to a job at Kangaroo."
"God. A gas station. Do you know he remembers the name of everybody he ever met? Characters in stories, too."
"Who are you guys talking about?"
"A borderline autistic, and some other thing. Wes explained it one night, but I can't remember—not important."
"Where is Wes?"
"He works tomorrow—last day. He won't come out."
"Call him. He'll come out."
"He won't if Andre doesn't, and nobody knows where the hell Andre is."
"Shit. I need to piss and I don't know where the restroom is. Somebody come with me."
"Grr. I'll guard the raw rats."
- - -
Innybody sittin here?
"My friends are. They'll be right back. They're in the bathroom."
Oh—you all studints?
Just out partyin? Girls nite out?
I got some frinds on the way over—Phelta Thi?
Thoght we could hang out.
"That's not what girls' night out's about."
Whut's it about then?
"Making fun of people."
Have fun then.
"Don't worry. Enjoy your barbecued flesh."
- - -
"Great. Let's get rid of these quotation marks. I'm tired of worrying about them."
"Can we do that?"
"Yes, thank god."
This is weird.
Said slut-in-a-miniskirt. Should we go sit inside?
God no. You missed the guy who was just out here. Lame.
Yeah. Frat guy. I guess he was normal, but how can I tell? Everybody's lame.
Let's not start philosophizing.
Fine. Drink your beer.
"Put some helium in those balloons," Tom said lightly.
That wasn't funny. And don't use quotes.
I was quoting somebody else, but fine. Here's another one: Don't sit on those potato chips, Tom said crisply.
No, I'm serious. LOL.
No. Not that funny.
Let's stop capitalizing, too.
what a relief. that takes so much energy, and I just don't have enough.
yeah. isn't this liberating? it's like burning your bra.
I burned my bra once.
really? you capitalized i, by the way. conceited bitch.
oh shut up. give me a cigarette.
no. you don't smoke. when did you burn your bra?
when i was working at chik-fil-a, in high school. i leaned over the grill—
yark, yark, yark.
yeah, but i'm serious. this is a true story.
the point is we're liberated.
let's take our panties off.
because we're not liberated. we have all this other baggage: periods and stuff.
fine. get rid of it.
ok fine by me
i feel giddy
this is like being high
no its more like ex
i dont think thats how you spell it
who cares if were not punctuating why worry about spelling
but we are punctuting
calm down please give me a cigarette
shut up anyway weve got to get rid of
stop i know the spaces
spaces before we get crazy and start losing clothes we have to get rid of the spaces
wont that get confusing its starting to already
okthennowimevenmorefuckedupyeahbutimkindofexcitedwhatdoyoumeanyoukno whornymetooireallyamgoingtotakeoffmypantiesihopethatguydoesntcomebacko utheretheoneyouweretalkingtowhilewewereintherestroomyeswellihopehedoesmy pantiesareoffnowyoutwohavetotakeyoursoffnouhuhyouguyssuckohmantheresbb qsauceonmythighlollmaolmfaolmgdmfaoihopeirememberthistomorrowmetoouhoh herehecomeshescutehereputtheseinyourpursegrossputtheminyourownpurseitsin thecarfinegivethemtomeewwtheyredamplollol
- - -
"I said, 'You're kind of slow.'"
Oh. I rekin. So yall just gone hang out here all nite?
Ronnie "R-o-n-n-i-e. You kind of look like Ronnie."
Got a bruther named Ronnie.
Whuts that meen?
Awritythen but yall donknow watchallmissin—cyall.
hesgonetomsaidabsentlylolstoplolingthatsnotevenfunnyshutupandgivemeba ckmypantiesgrossyougotratbloodonthemletsgetthehelloutofhereyeahhopono vertothekangarooletsgetsomebeerandgowatchsnlatmyapartmentdonttheyhav eanywetnapsyouguyswhatarewegoingtodoidontknow
About the author:
Gregory Napp is going for his masters in creative writing at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. He occasionally leaves Mississippi for a year or so, and teaches basic and conversational English in Seoul, South Korea. This is the very first story he has ever published anywhere.