Oh, yeah, definitely...which is what I was going for with that whole "vampires don't blow their noses...Munch has a tissue" thing.(I don't mention that for you to say "Yes, that was brilliant" because it could've completely failed...I'm not a good judge, I just want you to know I get where you're coming from."Jeez, "Where you're coming from..." I'm determined to make myself a Boomer by hook or by crook. )Note to self: Call somebody under forty this weekend, ok? Thx. (Ok, that's a little far in the other direction...)

Huh. Obviously I'm not getting a call from Erika any time soon.

Don't be offended...I don't give good phone. And I was kidding anyway, about hipping my speech up...I think I may have an old soul after all, although not in that DalaiLama,Shirley Maclaine, CrystalsBitch kind of way that people mean such things. But mom was a hippie who watched Don Cornelius. Then I picked up a little cop talk, some Yiddish, and some pop culture references...then I went to college and learned some lit crit and a tiny, tiny bit of women's studies and philosophy. And Elmore Leonard. And now I'm a Buffista AIFG. Except I talk funny, yo. And I don't always know what's gonna pop out. And people say that you can be influenced by your entertainment, huh? Although, personally, give me a personal break, Mr. Goebbels, Ok, babe?

Not offended, cross my heart. It was funny to me. I think 40 is the first time my age just felt like a number with no relation to who I am.

Eh, it's hopeless...I'm a misbegotten old hippie, born in the wrong era.(albeit an old hippie who's into words like "eyefuck" and "twitch"

(giggling at sister misbegotten old hippie)

Except as a political, I was a yippie. Steal this book!

As a joke, one time I told another, more established writer, that I was gonna write a book and call it "This Fucking Book" "Oh, man, This Fucking Book is gonna be the death of me!" People would not ask for the one with the blue cover. Kids would read it looking for dirty stuff. Instant brand recognition and it would give the Right the wig just for existing.

I love this concept.

He did, too...the reason I brought it up is cause "Steal This Book" made me think of it.

KAY

It took a minute to get calm after that little encounter, but I didn’t get much more than that before this broad in a slinky black dress shows up. I could tell from the legs she was Lilah, but what did I care that her dress cost more than my house? She still sweats from her armpits like everyone else...unless she’s not human or something. That seems to be going around lately.

No, focus, Howard...the worst thing you can do is let her catch you off guard. We eyefuck each other for a few minutes...one of my few adventures with girl-on-girl eyefucking. We should get some college guys in here...sell tickets. I worry that she’s made me, that she can spot I’m not Mistress Katrina but a flatfoot in whore’s clothing. Hell, for all I know, she was one of Katrina’s girls...sounds like she’s got the attitude for it. The smartest thing I can do is let her win the eyefuck, turn my face away so she can represent for all of her rich and evil friends. But I don’t have it in me...I’ve never backed off anything and I won’t now, not for this rich bitch and her beestung lips. I don’t get it anyways...she could buy and sell me fifty times(just about ten in my current position...there’s money in demon punishment.) Why is this little contest so important to her? And then, something amazing happens. I win.

“Well,” she says, looking away with a little sigh that makes me glad that neither Felton or the Munchkin are here right now...they don’t realize what a pose all that is...smart men like them should know better, huh? (Dressed like I am right now, I could get half these old freaks to worship me...it’s just another thing. Good Cop, Bad Cop, and The Girl Thing. I feel something spiny brush my ass. Ew, I think, keep your sucker to yourself.)

“Mr. Manners is ready to see you now,” Lilah says. “He anticipates your strictest chastisement...I personally think this doesn’t fit in with our corporate image or our mission statement, but he’s the one that gets paid to make the decisions.”

She laughs one of those fake social laughs, but I see something I wasn’t expecting. Fear.(I looked in her eyes before and I was surprised by how hard they were...not just tough, like me, but plain old don’t give a shit hard. Strip away the fancy stuff, she could be the most hard-core bitch on Fayette Street, as far as the eyes are concerned, but Mr. Manners is something else. If there is a Mr. Manners, I think, suddenly wishing Munch and his pervert glossary weren’t so far away. Because it could be a position or something...suddenly I feel like I’m echoing Stan Bolander.
“I’m just a simple girl from Rocky Point...I don’t know anything about this shit.”