"I'm afraid I don't understand," Wesley said, looking over his glasses at me in a way that was enough like Munch's that it really touched me.
"Well, it's kinda embarrassing, huh?"
"That doesn't seem to be an emotion Munch understands," Cordy said. I hated to admit it, but she was a lot like me at her age...always getting her two cents in, and stuff.Feisty as hell. Life isn't always kind to feisty broads. I felt for her, but she needed reining in, too, you know. "Don't talk about stuff you don't understand.We all have different sides, right? I hope to hell you do. I would die for that man, weirdo fantasies and all. And to be honest, I always thought of myself as the Lacey type. Cagney had the attitude right, but she was built like a linebacker, huh?"
"You were saying something about fantasies?"
"Oh, yeah, Munch has a whole thing about Hong Kong. One Christmas a few years ago, he got snockered and told me some story about some babe he wanted to meet in Hong Kong. A beautiful smart, submissive, artist-philosopher."
"Maybe he met her," Wesley said. "Did you get a name?"
"Yeah, Wesley, it was the Tooth Fairy, huh? Mary Sue Toothfairy. Cause a woman with that much upstairs is bound to give a guy a little static. Or be too shy to go into that Sharon Stone 'I'm not wearing any panties' bit, or whatever the hell he was talking about....I'd had a few, too. I wish I'd said that instead of smacking him with a newspaper, though. You always think you'll get a chance to make stuff up to somebody."
"Kay's right like a little black dress." Cordy said.
"Much as I enjoy gender solidarity, what does that have to do with Hong Kong Gardens?"
"The irony, huh? You could give Munch a naked woman or a truckload of irony and he'd have to think about it first....he likes it cause it sucks".
"I know what irony is. And if you do, you're not ignorant." Wesley said.
Deena, thanks, I've been concerned about what Wesley sounded like.
Hong Kong Gardens smelled like soy sauce and had an interior furnished out of Fake Asian Shithole magazine. It was very dark inside. I could picture Munch in here easily, eating cheap eggrolls and getting all depressed about life. Sometimes, I swear he gets off on it. There was one guy behind the counter giving me the once-over as I walked in. Aw, how special, he wants a date. Right. I send Cordy and Wes to go insane with the snow peas.
"What's a nice lady like you doing in a dump like this?" He is not serious. That didn't even work on "Three's Company"
"The same reason most women go into dives. After some stupid guy. And my friend really likes snow peas."
"Oh, is your boyfriend in trouble? What'd he do?"
"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."
I make it a point not to smile...he backs up a little bit.
"I was wondering if you could help though." I take Munch's picture out of my handbag. "He been in here? I think you'd remember. Probably talked a lot"
"If I help you, what do I get?"
"A warm feeling."
"Ooh, I like the sound of that."
"What the hell? That teriyaki chicken is gonna be in there for thirty seconds, right? A guy like you should be able to go around twice, if I don't wanna cuddle."
"I can see why your boyfriend would cheat on you, lady. You're a real ball-buster."
"Thank you. He was in here?"
"Yeah. He and this real gorgeous blonde chick. I remember thinking he must have money, cause that's usually how ugly guys get beautiful women. No offense."
Now, he's worried about offending me. What, were all those smutty suggestions some gift with purchase? "What day was this?"
"Sunday...I remember cause I wanted them to get done so I could close up and watch 'The Sopranos' But they didn't. Somebody got whacked and I missed the whole thing. Thank God for the internet!"
"What about the woman?" Wesley asked.
"Blonde, hot...and she had this little voice, like Jennifer Tilly in Bound Dude, that was hot. But I don't have to tell you, right, buddy?" he says, indicating me and Cordy.
"A world of ew," Cordy whispers. "No offense."
Some days, it's good I've got good self-esteem.
"Oh, dear Lord," Wesley says. I don't know why...it's hardly the worst I've heard.
We hurry out with the take-out and I steal an extra fortune cookie for my ego.
Edited to fix typo.
And I have No Idea what Kay's gonna think when she finds out.No idea what the meeting will look like.
Yeah...I love AssKicking!Kay. Obviously.(Unlike the network, I understand there are all sorts of reasons a woman might want to kick some ass and still be a real girl.) And she's very good at that "Can't tell if she's kidding" thing.Which I can be, but like in the Pembleton conversation about Danvers...I would find it too amusing and crack myself up(Unless it's true...but come on...no pun intended!)ETA: Typical me. You like my sentence, all I see is the typo that's in it.
Melissa Leo has one of those fine-boned interesting faces that's also very mobile/hard to read at the same time.
And, well, the hair.
If she doesn't want you to see what she's thinking, you won't. I've got too many tells.ETA: And it's all about the hair.
Oh, God, now I want them to meet up at Caritas. That could be really FG or embarrassing and pitiful.
Omigawd, what would you have her sing?
Something silly, that you wouldn't have to have great pipes for...Maybe "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'" or whatever the hell it is.(That was almost as embarrassing a sentence as writing "greasy food and onanism" almost, but not quite. And I'm completely straight. Can you imagine "my brain on drugs"(shudders)))
Jesus wept, erika.
Kay Howard in the middle of Caritas, way too aware of Wes watching and listening, trying not to glare at the Big Green Demon Lorne, and singing Nancy Sinatra?
DAYUM.
Of course, I'm still waiting for someone, anyone at all, to sing a version of a 1960's very catchy totally awful song by a man called Lou Christie, entitled "Lightning Strikes".
