“Ma!” I exclaimed. “You know the girl!” “What girl, love?” “My girl.” I slapped a hand against my nose, itching the scratch, or scratching the itch. I didn’t know about anything anymore, but I felt fucking great. “See, Da?” I slapped my chest. “Boom, fucking boom, boom.” “What’s he talking about, John?” “God only knows,” my father replied, sounding thoroughly amused. “But it’s the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
