Derrick says we need backpacks, satchels, duffle bags and bindles. He says that we could use anything that carries, so long as it’s a lot. I take his dictation, but stop to pass the gasper across the front seat. Feeling good, I interrupt. “I heard another one this morning,” I say. Derrick says that what I’m doing is I’m making him lose his locomotive of thought. I ask, “What was the last thing that went through those girls’ heads?”
“Don’t tell me,” Derrick says. It’s already later than he wants, and he says we need to up our focus. He quotes me item one off the list of remembers we found on the field that day. Item one on the list of remembers is, remember the body is a machine.
When what went through those girls’ heads went through their heads, Derrick and I were under the football field bleachers, sharing a gasper and cutting Spanish so we could perform some reconnaissance on the gym-class girls and their shorts, which to us were a crime in favor of mankind. We liked the little wiggles the girls made before shooting their hips around to knock golf balls a… Read more »