(this excerpt from my published novel is censored for the internet)
At the west bank, she popped into the Global Village to see what was cool. The Tear Garden played loudly on the stereo and the place smelled heavily of gooey cherry/strawberry incense. She loved the smell and felt instantly transformed to some exotic Moroccan bazaar, though she wasn’t even sure where Morocco was on the map. She inspected a box of neat sandals from India and then trolled her fingers through a cardboard box of ankle bracelets.
“Can I help you?” a very young woman behind the counter finally asked.
“Nope. Just shoplifting today.” Sandra made an exaggerated gesture of shoving sandals down the front of her top. “I just hope I get a left and a right!”
The clerk smirked. “Like, if your b***s start growing we’ll have to feel you up.”
Sandra held a pair of white dingo boots up to her own chest. “Hmm.”
“You know, you’re supposed to leave your bag at the counter. Didn’t you see the sign at the door?”
“I won’t ever let my bag out of my sight. It’s full of drugs.”
“Serious? Really?”
“Psych.” Sandra handed over her purse. “And stay out of it unless you’re on the rag.”
“Ha ha.” She popped out the cassette tape and changed it to The Cocteau Twins.
Bunny Umber walked into the store. “Fire in the hole!”
“Hi Bunny,” the clerk greeted.
“Bunny Umber.”
“Sure.”
“Bunny, by itself, sounds so cute. Like something a kid pets. I’m punk. I puke on preppies.” Bunny Umber laughed grandly.
“Like, sure.”
Bunny
Umber regarded Sandra and then looked around to notice nobody else was
in the store. “There’s no men in here right now.” She breathed in deep.
“Ah, sisterhood. I just made two frat boy pigs trip over each other on their way to jock class. I just looked at them with my righteousness, spoke to them with divine female authority, and they went flying into each other’s arms. Now they’re gay. I love it when I make things happen.” She laughed again.
Sandra said, “Oh. I just loooove that wild vagina painted on the front of your skirt. I feel that way, today… it having sharp teeth. It’s your real name? Bunny Umber?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, what a cool name. And your jacket is so cool!”
Bunny Umber turned around to model. “Thanks.” On the back of it was a crumbling acrylic painting of a flying monkey waving a burning stars and stripes. “Anybody have a cigarette?”
“Nope.”
Sandra shook her head no, also. Then, as if by providence, the back of one of Bunny Umber’s earrings cracked, fell off her ear and landed at Sandra’s foot. Sandra picked it up, regarding the cool metal bones, as if it had belonged to the ear of a prehistoric magical cannibal queen. She handed it over. Bunny Umber spotted Sandra’s palm and jolted.
“What,” Sandra asked.
Bunny Umber gasped, “Your palm. I saw your palm. The map of your fate!”
“So.”
“I’m psychic! It spoke to me.”
“What’s it say?”
“You are to… to… hmmm.”
“To what?”
“Oh. It was a map of my fate… but on your hand. Hmm. That’s odd. In fact, that’s really f###ed up.”
“How?” Sandra looked at her own palm. “It looks like mine to me.”
Bunny Umber stated, “You are to… be there when I become really famous.”
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