Don't Blink
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Phoebe sets the big bowl of chicken soup on the counter, and Phil lands gracefully right next to it.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I says, shooing away Phil.
“Ethan and I were just going to see Rocky VI, and your place was on the way.”
“Who is 'The Italian Stallion’ fighting this time? His HMO?”
Phoebe shoos away Phil. “LOBO, we need to talk.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“How are you going to explain this whole ‘Sapphire’ thing?"
“What do you mean?” I says, shooing away Phil.
“Well, how can she have a black baby? There aren’t that many black people on this blog.”
I'm puzzled.
“Is it Jimmy Orlando?” she demands.
“First of all, I go to great lengths not to describe people, so the readers can just superimpose themselves over the characters. What are you saying? That I’m not kicking around minorities enough? For anyone knows, you're black." I shoo away Phil, "Jimmy Orlando is Hawaiian, by the way. Thanks for reading."
“I guess I never figured you as a inter-racial kind of guy. Don’t you think this might be kind of sensitive material? It's very important that you handle this properly. The very next thing you write could have dramatic polarizing effects on how mixed races will coexist for generations.”
“As far as I’m concerned, everybody should keep fucking everybody else until we’re all the same color."
”Hey, it’s really hot in here,” says Phoebe. “Do you mind if I take off my clothes?”
“What?” I says, startled.
“I said ‘it’s really cold in here, and you should keep that window closed’.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Do you know it’s rude to blog while someone is talking to you?” she says. "And, hey, the cat is eating your soup!"
"What?"
[LOBO]
Phoebe sets the big bowl of chicken soup on the counter, and Phil lands gracefully right next to it.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I says, shooing away Phil.
“Ethan and I were just going to see Rocky VI, and your place was on the way.”
“Who is 'The Italian Stallion’ fighting this time? His HMO?”
Phoebe shoos away Phil. “LOBO, we need to talk.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“How are you going to explain this whole ‘Sapphire’ thing?"
“What do you mean?” I says, shooing away Phil.
“Well, how can she have a black baby? There aren’t that many black people on this blog.”
I'm puzzled.
“Is it Jimmy Orlando?” she demands.
“First of all, I go to great lengths not to describe people, so the readers can just superimpose themselves over the characters. What are you saying? That I’m not kicking around minorities enough? For anyone knows, you're black." I shoo away Phil, "Jimmy Orlando is Hawaiian, by the way. Thanks for reading."
“I guess I never figured you as a inter-racial kind of guy. Don’t you think this might be kind of sensitive material? It's very important that you handle this properly. The very next thing you write could have dramatic polarizing effects on how mixed races will coexist for generations.”
“As far as I’m concerned, everybody should keep fucking everybody else until we’re all the same color."
”Hey, it’s really hot in here,” says Phoebe. “Do you mind if I take off my clothes?”
“What?” I says, startled.
“I said ‘it’s really cold in here, and you should keep that window closed’.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Do you know it’s rude to blog while someone is talking to you?” she says. "And, hey, the cat is eating your soup!"
"What?"
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