I parked on pink which matched the color of my Villefort Alvarado 570 De Luxe Convertible — appropriate. Lizzy’s own even larger and more expensive gold plated wheels to match her body was already there, blocking off the parking lot as, in turn, I just blocked her in. As if she owned the place. And perhaps she does. Let’s listen in…
“So. Are you suppose to be Tin or Lead now, Lizzy? I always forget.” Sarcasm. Bitter. Evelyn hates Lizzy, Tin or not. She hates this bar too. She hates everything but that’s beside the point. Lizzy is the focus of that hate right now. Lizzy and (her?) Lizzie’s. Let’s continue to listen in…
“I’m going to answer that with a riddle, Evelyn. Ready? What’s blue and bitter and a hard pill to swallow whatever?”
“Jeez,” says thoughtful Evelyn, game for a game. “Let me see, Iiii–”
“It’s YOU. You hate everything. I just happen to be the focus of that hate right now.” Just as I thought. And I forgot that Tin is silver-ish not gold now. She’d changed with her last album about alchemy, “Coleman County Corners” or something. Country? (origin). Let’s go with France. 1/2 of the songs are set in such. There’s a really interesting one about the Eiffel Tower and how gold statuettes of the famous monument were mixed up with the ordinary lead ones by 2 thieves attempting to corner a market, but that’s another story involving Lavender. Best to leave Lavender out of it for now. Let’s stick to pink. Back to the action…
Well, they’re slapping each other now in a kind of continuous way. Both are getting a bit red cheeked already. This may not end well, may end with one of them, perhaps both of them dropping to the ground. Should I step in? I decide to step in.
“*Ladies*,” I tried to calm, walking toward them. “Ladies ladies *ladies*.” *Smack* *smack*. I was down on the ground with a double to the face, ears bloodied on both sides. I drain the blood out of at least my left ear to try to continue hearing what’s going on.
“*Right* here. *Right* now,” Lizzy was saying now about a duel, slapping ceased for the moment with my downfall. Oh dear, this was getting worse instead of better. “*10* paces. Live grenades.” Live grenades? I think with my aching head. Surely she jests. “Make it bombs, atomic bombs,” Evelyn upped the ante. “World extermination if you lose, world extermination if I lose.” Where in hell was this going?
(to be continued)

































