Bite Me

big gay cop, and I’m all soft-spoken little-girl voice, “I thought we were on the same side because—well—because we know about the nosferatu, and all that money you got from his art collection. We’re not? I’m crushed.” Totally hand to forehead, fake-heartbreak fainting. I was going to cry a little, but my mascara was lined up like the spikes on the gates of hell, and I didn’t want it to go raccoon on me so early in the day, so only a sniffle. I wiped my nose on the big gay cop’s sleeve.
    And the Momster is all, “What? What? Nosferatu? What? Money? What?”
    And Rivera is all, “Excuse us a moment, Mrs. Green, we need to have a word with Allison.”
    So the Mombot starts to go into the bedroom and I’m all, “Oh I don’t think so. You can wait outside,” or something like that, because it turns out I didn’t want her to see the inner sanctum of our love nest, because she’s a nurse and seeing the dog collars, test tubes, centrifuge, and whatnot might give her the wrong idea. (Foo and I like to get our mad scientist freak on in the privacy of the boudoir.)
    So Mom steps outside.
    And Foo is all, “Owned, bitches!” And he did a pathetic imitation of my own superb booty dance of ownage, and I was, at once, touched by his support, yet embarrassed by his tragic lack of rhythm and booticuity.
    And Rivera is all, “Allison, how did you know about the money and the old vampyre and the yacht and you have no proof and blah, blah, I so can’t decide whether I’m the good cop or the bad cop, or if I’m going to still pretend to be badass or totally crap my pants from the verbal death grip you just put on my man sac, blah, blah.”
    And I’m all, “I know it all, cop,” popping the p in cop because it makes both of them flinch a little. “You need to exit and take the Mombot home or I will be forced to expose your evil shit to your masters, and not in the fun way.”
    And the Hispano cop was all chill, nodding and smiling, which harshed my confidence somewhat. And he’s all, “That so, Allison? Well, Mr. Wong here is twenty-one, and you are still a minor, so among other things, we can takehim in for contributing to the delinquency of a minor, kidnapping, and statutory rape.” And he folds his arms all, “Take that, bee-atch.” Hip-hop superior.
    So I’m like, “You’re right, he is totally taking advantage of my innocence. Foo, you ginormous perve!” Then I slapped him, but for the drama, not because he might think I was a slut. “I should have known when you had me shave my va-jay-jay into the shape of a beaver!”
    And Foo’s all, “I did not!”
    “Pervy and redundant, don’t you think?” I asked the big gay cop, who wouldn’t know a va-jay-jay if it bounced up to him and sang the “Star-Spangled Banner.” (You ever notice that hardly anything besides the “Star-Spangled Banner” is spangled? There’s no, like, the Raisin-Spangled Scone, or the Flea-Spangled Beagle. I’m just saying.) So, I, like, start to pull up my skirt to further freak him out, like I’m going to flash the beav, which was a bluff, because I am totally trimmed bat-shape and dyed lavender and I was wearing my hot-pink fishnets, which are full-on tights and put the PG-13 on my no-no place.
    But instead of hiding his head and screaming like a little bitch, which is what I was going for, the big gay cop is across the room and has Foo in handcuffs in like seconds, cranking them down tight.
    So Foo is all, “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
    And I’m heartsick at his suffering, so I’m like, “Unhand him, you fascist-ass bear.”
    And Rivera is all, “Allison, we need to come to an understanding, or your boyfriend is going to jail, and even if the charges don’t stick, he can kiss his master’s degree good-bye.”
    Powned! I was forced to lower my skirt in defeat. Foo’s eyes were all anime-huge and started to get tear-spangled, and my noble love ninja looked all pleading to me like, “Please, do not abandon me, despite my obvious emo tendencies.”
    So I’m like, “We’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars to leave our love lair like nothing happened.”
    And Rivera is like, “We’re not interested in your money.”
    And gay bear cop is like, “Wait, where did you get that kind of money, anyway?”
    And Rivera is like, “Never mind, Nick, it’s not about money.”
    And I’m like, “OMG Rivera, your bad cop skills suck ass. It’s always about the money. Don’t you have a TV?”
    And he’s like,