"The Press pool."
"Da Queers."
The two men looked at each other.
"Leezy!"
"Oh God, my father."
Said to be the sundial of savages, the shadows where one can read the absence of the thing represented. Only during daylight of course.
"The Press pool."
"Da Queers."
The two men looked at each other.
"Leezy!"
"Oh God, my father."
"Is that your pimp?"
The woman looked at the two men. Salad on fork frozen between plate and mouth.
A waitress dropped a tray of food.
The woman disappeared.
"She's in there with," a boney man looked at a list and pronounced, "Shoes."
"OF COURSE, with legs like that how could the guy not be a ballerina?"
"I don't think he's a ballerina."
"But you just said he was. And that you saw him in a ballet in Virginia."
"I did! But they don't call guys who do that ballerinas."
"So the guys a faggot who has a sissy job?"
"What do they call him?"
"In Russian? I'm not sure. And male dancer sounds, I don't know, weird or too strip club or something."
"Honey, that is not where you want to be."
"Tell me about it."
"Can you please leave."
"The room?"
"The City child. Let's get lunch." The beautiful bald person flopped the wig back onto head, took heels in hand, went into the living room and "rescued" a party platter from a coffee table piled with "coffee table books". "Are you the one that hangs with the North Korean guy?" An eyeroll, penciled brows up and down. "Kind of direct child. Are you one of them?"
"Naw, I'm a Christian Republican. Where are we going?"
"Rooftop. Better view."
A wizened man in Ghandi pants looked at the travel DVD player. "He was," the man searched for the word by taking the thinking man pose, standing up. One that never sits down like Buddha. "Show me," a well-known journalist in the movies pulled him gently but firmly to a two foot clearing between people with their backs to each other. She mimed filming. He acted the man. (i)The man had a sachel.
"Or a briefcase baby,"
(i)He had swords pointed at him. But, but the sachel was stuck to him(i)
"Oh, I know it was baby."
(i)Others, apes? Another group maybe came with rocks and the man got on his knees and(i)
"We know baby. We know why everybody in this old world prays. Right baby?!"
(i)the man took a pen from, oh it was a fancy man with a suitcoat, took a pen from his pocket, his breast pocket, and motioned for a rock(i)
(i)ha, ha, ha(i) "She said breast." Guy covered his mouth. "It was real loud in my ear." The woman tyrned the filming toward him and he yawned and stood up straight.
She made the keep going, keep going hand sign to the man telling the story. (i)The man motioned for a rock and peace, no TWO men wouldn't let go of the rock. Man gave them his watch. They put the rock down. Man showed stuck to sachel, the other two picked up rock, and(i)
The crowds started backing up. The woman went to the man, mimed putting the camera on the ground, and helped the man act what had happened. Just as a Hasidic Jew fell backwards over the man telling the story, she stood up and flashed a compact with a mirror then started saying, "They picked the lock." Over and over until a live TV crew skinnied through to her.
THIS CAGE!!!!!!" Things seemed little and far away on the monitor.
"How many?"
"How many what?"
"Tribes?"
"Twelve originally."
"He's asking how many tribes the so-called peacemakers are entertaining?"
"It's not entertainment."
"That is correct. None of this is amusing."
"Anything but."
"There were several that signed this!" A wet scrolled up piece of paper was pulled from a tight jeans pocket. People donned reading glasses and followed the well-manicured hand that took the piece of paper with a pair of tweezers and put it on the group viewing table.
A younger generation's rep was like WTF. "That's the last exchange we are doing," a middle ager didn't look at anyone and said.
"Busy?"
"That's Lena. (i)Click, just kidding.(i)"
"Horne or the other one?"
(i)a choke cough(i) "I tolya to finish drinking first. And what is it? Here smell this."
"Hewo."
"Hi Love."
"We've got that shot you asked us to take that day."
(i)knock, knock, knock oh hold on if you can(i)
"JAVIER! SO GLAD YOU COULD COME! HURRICANE COMING IN LIKE A FEW HOURS I KNOW CAN YOU HELP US?
Still there?"
(i)Gone. Everybody's always gone so quick these days.(i)
"Not us. (i)Maintenance(i) never ends."
"What's in 'the tunnel' m'am?"
Hands reached for the walkie talkie not on the seat beside her. A tiny frown but botox'd lips barely registered the emotion on her face. She rolled her eyes. "Twanswate."
"What language lady?"
"Wemains."
"I can't say that word."
The cab driver looked up from a phone. Tried to find somebody to read the amount of four hundred and seventy three dollars. "American," he said.
"The Press pool." "Da Queers." The two men looked at each other. "Leezy!" "Oh God, my fat...