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Sumi listened idly to the pockets of chattering students around her, their nonsensical conversations blurring together into a slurry of unconnected thoughts and slang. “Deadass, did you see his drip?” “I know, but he’s so baby girl.” “It’s giving sigma.”
If she appropriated bites of strangers’ food and explained she was simply collecting a fanum tax, or if she told the handsome, unsmiling barista she saw every morning that she was earning a degree in Advanced Rizzenomics, would her friends and neighbors laugh, or would they think she was having a psychotic break?
Maybe once you’re out of here, it won’t seem that terrible. Maybe you actually love these kids and you’re too close to realize it. ”Gyat!” Her face flushed and her eyes narrowed as she snatched up the pen and straightened, whipping around to face the 12-year-old at the far corner table, smug in his exclamation over the bouncy ass in question. She wouldn’t need a slang cheat sheet in her new life, she reminded herself. Nope. You’re not going to miss them at all. Fuck these kids.
Revolutions begin with a conversation. All of the inventions that have changed our lives probably started with two people just having a conversation.
She was childless by choice and had no desire to change that, but if this beautiful snake man suggested he would be interested in breeding her right then and there as the smiling blonde woman watched, Sumi knew that she would be able to make room in her heart for his child.
“Seriously, are your eyes okay?” She glared. “Did you not notice the way she was looking at you? The way she was laughing? Fucking stars, she was twirling her hair. I don’t think she could have been any more obvious without lifting her shirt and asking if you liked her boobies and maybe wanted to take a squeeze.” “Gracie, you are out of your mind. That mothman has broken you. The buzzing of his wings is probably a decibel that’s dangerous for humans. I hope the sex is good, because it’s scrambled your frontal cortex.”
PLEASE take a moment to be awestruck with me Look at the STATE of this wisteria. What were they feeding it?! A steady diet of cocaine and whiskey? Straight steroids? You could swing from this thing! We need to reevaluate, Pinky. All the plants need to start living dangerously if this is the result.
Fucking unreal. Negative rizz. If you stay in this relationship for another week, you’re going to spend the summer having a nice menty b.
“We met for the first time a few weeks ago. I bumped into him randomly this morning and he kind of asked me out? I’ll keep you posted, but if he wants to make me his breeding bitch, I’m not gonna say no.” “Girl, say less.”
“Lower your voice! Gracie, I am begging you to see a doctor. That mothman has scrambled your brain.” “I think we’re drunk,” she stage whispered, still curled in the seat of her chair. “But this is a very good idea. You’re just a silly snake, you wouldn’t know a good idea if it slithered up and bit you.“ She sat up quickly, pantomiming his side-to-side undulation, both of her hands cupping the air around her thighs. “You just need to give her a taste of the stacked salami, and I’ll bet this will all go away. Oh shit, I’m dizzy.”
If he could take that back, if he could smooth over this little tiny issue of her shop that would absolutely put his under, if they could tiptoe around the gulf that lay between them and put their differences to rest by fucking, he would. Bury the hatchet. And then bury it again a little while later just for good measure. And then again in the morning. Just to make sure there’s no resentment.
“I don’t know, I feel like it punches the wrong button. It would be different if your ex was dead.” “Grace, for fuck’s sake!” “I’m just saying! Everyone loves a widower! Widowers are hot, we would be beating women off of you with a stick. But a divorcé? Ehhhh, what’s wrong with him? That’s what they’re going to think.”
“Grace is the event planner over at Saddlethorne. She sends a lot of her brides to me for their wedding flowers, and she does my fruit baskets. Well. She did. But no. We’re not together. Not like that. Her boyfriend is a mothman, he works over at the University. If you ever need to know anything about moths or bats or hummingbirds, I suggest you look it up yourself or ask literally anyone else, because you will never escape the conversation with him. That is how you will die.”
Love is a fucking racket. So fucking Ohio. She had never considered her own rizz to be mid, but she supposed she was going to be forced to take the L in this case. Too bad the L meant a broken heart.
