Predator Press
[LOBO]
There was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me, Sapphire.”
“How do I know that—?“
“Look, just shut up and open the door!”
Sapphire enters.
She’s crying.
“Sapphire, what’s wrong?”
“Oh LOBO,” she sobs. “I really want to go to Twentynine Palms, California, but I don’t know how to get there!”
“Sapphire,” I says calmly. “I’ve got some trucker's 2004 Road Atlas right here under this tuna sandwich!”
“Really?” she says.
“Sure!” I says, handing her the maps. “Now have fun in California.”
God, I’m thinking. What would chicks do without me?
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