"Sorry," "sorry"

  "Sorry ass bunch of ya," she deemed all of us.

  It must've been after the mud wrestling because before that night nobody was apologizing for anything.  It was all, I'll whoop yo ass in the pit and you're going down bitch.  "Alley cats and bitches," she didn't mumble.  Still had all her teeth gleaming white and swore that is NOT how God made you people.

  I tried to explain circumstance and raised up certain ways but could not really account for the landslide of people in my generation cutting it all loose.  Just past our teen years we were more like actual hormones than human beings.  

  "You better get a thicker skin on this yard," she warned when I teared at kamp.  Engines revving and dust on the gravel road was the answer to Can I come along?  Just imagining all the adventures of "road trip" and hitting the road totally compounded the frustrations of being young and dirt poor.  It was hard to separate feelings of jealousy from actual well-wishing.  A biker woman was always saying May your karma bite you in the ass.

  "What's karma?" One of us Christians sort of adopted by local good people asked.

  "You'll see.  It's hard to explain but you'll find out.  'Specially if you fuck with us."

  "Who's her us?" Another biker inquired of "association".  The comversation turned vague.  "She's got ambiguous loyalties," a man said.  

  "No such thing.  I'll find out." The man in the sweater smelling of cedar and aftershave turned and left.  The night's candles had melted into stubs with no wicks by the time he returned and motioned mantalk.  

  In the harsh light of day at the store everyone looked different than the glow of "party".

  "Give me the list."

  "No."

  Giggles and screams at the other store as someone put ice down someone else's shirt.  "Will you two knock it the fuck off?" An MOD (manager on duty) cried loudly.

  "You're not even old enough to buy all the alcohol on that list!"

  "No."

  "We'll see about that one drinking two bottles of beam and a suitcase of beer.  Huh.  Young people."

  "No.  I will legitimately kick that one's," pointed with both fingers, "ASS.  MUD OR NO MUD."

  "Why do I hear children?" A DM (district manager) asked the phone and turned it to everyone standing around.

  "I won't even need to smack you down in the mud you stay so fucked up it'll be two hits."

  "I do not."

  "Do too."

  "Do not."

  "Are you fucked up?"

  "There's no childcare and no Headstart today."

  "How many children are there?"

  "Maybe just drunk-leftover."

  "I'm gonna fuck you up bitch."

  "Let's go."

  The parking lot at the work out center was packed.  But people would get out of their cars and trucks real fast and book it into the building.  "Why?" I asked.

  "Just watch."

  Sharing an electrolyte juice and a bag of orange snack food it wasn't long before we saw bling-bling cars cruising the parking lot.  One's music speakers rattled the dashboard where a piece of leftover baked potato had hardened like plastic in the roasting sun.

  "What's she doing here?" Inside the neon lights were supposed to cut down on wrinkles and splotches.

  "Yeah, what gives?"

  "Besides looking like Richard Simmons?"

  The Unicorn bunched up her lips and put up fists.  "Figured I better reactivate my muskels if'n we're gonna fight."

  Humphs and guffaws.

  Back outside a tiny woman leaned up on her toes and against the tall man's chest and they kissed.  One of his hands kept aiming the keys at the trunk of the car.  Her hand guided the key into the lock.  "My peripheral vision is better too.". They kept kissing.  "Because of carrot juish?"

  "And working out."

  "Working out and working out?"  He reached both hands around to the small of her back and pulled her closer.  The trunk popped open.  "Get you gym bag and we'll get you going on getting in shape again."

  "Okay, okay." More kissing and hugging.  Then they dropped holding eachother sway and the man turned to dig out his gym bag.  He sort of rubbed his forehead instead of smoking a cigarette.  "What is all this shit?"

  "Hmmmmm?" She backed away a step or two.

  The man held up a discount store grocery bag like it was lounge-er-ay or a dead fish.

  "It wasn't just me."

  "Did you people shop before or after you jumped off the bridge?" 

  "Well you guys said to replace what got lost in the storm."

  "Yah, that's true.  But," He pulled the cigarettes from a shirt pocket and lit one.  "But?" "But not kick up a storm of more debt.  You women don't get credit cards and how that works." She put a hand inside the back of his belt.  "Hold up holler-head.  Before you start in.  We did it with cash."

  He looked down at the trunk of bags then turned to her, but her hand was stuck so she went around him as he turned.  "You did?"

  "Aha.  Cash."

  "Get over here so I can smooch ya more," but he kept turning so she couldn't unless she got unstuck.  Somehow they ended up "carrying each other."

  Before long Gentle Boy came along with a guy in a leprachaun hat looking for The Unicorn.  "Been practicing for that battle of the band thing?" "Nope just bong hits." 

  "I grew up on this side of the mountain honey," he covered his mouth for sounding like an older woman everybody knew, then continued, " Ain't nothing I ain't seen."

  No response.

  "Nothin'"

  "What's your point dork?"

  "I'm old enough to come.  To the Thing.  Shindig thing."

  "Oh that.  Might be off anyway."

  "Off?!"

  The workout clothes were tucked almost up under his armpit, hands in pockets.  They went inside but came out right away.  "What'd you see in there?"

  The unicorn came out and ducked behind a trash can.  Poked head up and put the ssssshhh finger in front of her mouth.

  "Just a lot of people in bras."

  "Way too much testosterone for us."

  "Did I say you could speak for me?"

  "For me too," the unicorn came over closer.

  "I get to speak for you?"

  "Way too much weight-lifting." 

  "Did you see those stomach muscles?"

  "I talk a lot.  Might as well speak for others too."

  "Like representing?"

  "Reps and rips in there." 

  "Is there some other option?"

  "We won't have to fight if it's off." 

  "Off?!"

  "Where'd you hear that?  There's way too much alcohol to call it off." 

  Everyone fell quiet.  People started exiting the work out place in pairs and threes.

  "No, because I'm Jewish; we can pick up the kids on the way to the pizza place; what's next on the list?  Laundry...." The conversations blended into one.