| |
––––––––
“Who’s the bleach blonde,” Betty Coleman laughed as she strolled into Ann’s office. “Oh, I know, this is your friend you always talk about, the one who can’t get laid.”
“Who are you to talk, stick girl?” Shannon laughed as Betty stood before her, her hands planted firmly on her skinny hips. “Anybody who fucked you would get splinters.” Betty roared with laughter.
“I like her! Hey, are those sour cream and onion chips?”
“Is there any other kind?” Shannon grinned, offering the bag. Betty plopped down and grabbed a handful and began munching. “So what the fuck, Auntie,” she mumbled. “Where’s my money?”
“Up your shapeless ass, until you produce something,” Ann snapped. “This isn’t a welfare organization. You spill your guts, then Blondie over there will find out if your little fantasy is true or not.’
“How?” Betty laughed, eyeing Shannon up and down. “She doesn’t look that smart.”
“Neither do you,” Ann snapped. “I can’t even believe that I’m related to you.”
“See?” Shannon sighed. “Ann doesn’t recognize you as a family member. Perhaps it’s because you don’t have those calf bearing hips the rest of her family has, and you don’t moo and eat grass.” Betty screamed with laughter and fell onto the floor.
“Fucking uncoordinated bitch,” Ann grumbled. “Come on, Twiggy, get off the floor and tell us what you think you know.”
“Okay,” Betty cried. “Give me a minute.” She got up and adjusted her simple red dress, then sat down next to Shannon. “This is good,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I just know it. I spent a lot of time in California, and this is plausible. I got the goods here.”
“Give it up,” Ann said impatiently, beckoning with her hand. “I don’t have all day.”
“She doesn’t have all day,” Shannon giggled. “Her boyfriend is waiting for parole to be signed so he can eat her moldy pussy.” Betty screamed with laughter and fell on the floor again. “She falls down a lot, doesn’t she,” Shannon giggled.
“Yeah, she’s just like you. She can be upside down under a football player before he hits the ground after a tackle, dirty little slut that she is. Come on, Betty, let’s do this.”
“Uh,” Betty grunted as she got back up. “Jesus, this is funny. Hey, you got some sense of humor, Blondie.”
“Shannon.”
“Okay, whatever. Here goes. This dude calls me and says he has access to nukes. He’s going to plant them in the San Andreas Fault and dump California into the ocean.” Ann just stared.
“And?”
“And what?”
“That’s it? Are you serious?”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t believe the story,” Ann said. “It’s horse shit.”
“Dennison brothers,” Betty said quietly. Ann looked away.
“You aren’t supposed to know about that. Nobody is.”
“Too bad. I know a lot of things I’m not supposed to know. This is real. I got the goods.”
“What goods?”
“National security,” Betty said slyly, crossing her long legs.
“And where would a twenty five year old dummy like you get access to national security information?” Ann laughed.
“I can cross my ankles behind my neck,” Betty smirked.
“Hey! I used to do that in Catholic School,” Shannon said. “Oh, never mind. It works though, Coleman. Remember that. Don’t ask questions.”
“Cripes,” Ann sighed as she put her head in her hands. “Why do I do this to myself? I have a crackpot for a niece and a drunken idiot for a best friend. Why me, oh God.”
“Luck of the draw,” Shannon said as she stood up. “Come on, stick girl, let’s do lunch. You can tell me what you have. I have a high level security clearance. I solved the disappearance of the president.” Betty looked at Ann.
“Did she?”
“She did. Now get out. I’m tired of this.”
June 9, 2009