You Suck: A Love Story

something.”
    And then the cat guy was all, “Let her through.”
    So they let me through.
    So I blew by the EMT to the huge cat guy, and I was all, “Are you okay?”
    And he was like, “Well, my head hurts like hell, and I think my leg is broke.”
    And I was all, “Is there anything I can do?” Because I was under orders of the Countess to gain information and offer assistance.
    And he was like, “If you could take care of Chet. He’s in the stairwell. He’ll be hungry.”
    And I was all, “You got it.”
    So then he like pulled the oxygen mask off and had me bend over so he could whisper, and I was all, “Yes, Dad,” for the EMTs who were watching.
    And he whispered like, “Before they take me away, could I see your tits.”
    So I kicked him in the ribs. And the EMTs went all by-zerk and shit, and told me to get away, but they were totally overreacting, because I had on my red Converse All Stars, which will hardly even bruise you.
    So they loaded him into the ambulance, and just as they were shutting the doors, he reached out his hand, like he was a drowning man reaching for the last spark of his mortality before the inky waves of death swept him away-so I flashed my boobs for him, just a quick lift of my bra and top at the same time, because I don’t think we do enough to help the homeless, and I wanted him to die a happy man.
    And besides, they’re small and I don’t get that many requests.
    So I got Chet out of the stairway of the old loft and was carrying him kid-style when I saw the two cops from before-the ones the Countess said helped blow up Elijah-so I went up to the Hispano-cop and I was all, “So, what’s up, cop?”
    And he was all, “You need to get home, and you have no business out at this hour, and we should take you to the station and call your parents and blah, blah, blah, threat, threat, disapproval, and fascist dogma all up in your darkly delicious grille.” (I’m paraphrasing. Although I do have a delicious grille as I had to wear braces for three years when I was a kid, and now my teeth are like my most acceptable feature. I hope my fangs come in straight.) And the big gay cop was all, “What are you doing here?”
    And I was all, “I live here, bone-smoker, what are you doing here? Aren’t you guys homicide cops?”
    And he was all, “Let’s see some ID blah, blah, bluster, bluster, Oh My God I am so full of shit.”
    And I was like, “I guess you wouldn’t have to deal with this shit if you had properly blowed up that old vampyre when you stole his art collection.”
    So all of a sudden the Hispano-cop and his big gay partner were all, “Whaaa-?”
    And I’m like, “Just so we know where we stand. How long you bitches going to be here?”
    And they were like, “Just a half hour or so longer, miss. We need to interview some witnesses and go clean out our boxers where we have just completely shit ourselves. Do you need a ride somewhere?” (Again paraphrasing.) So I walked off, while they were still stunned, let Chet into the new loft down the street like it was mine, then ran around the block and reported to the Countess and Flood. Jared was just staring at them like he was hypnotized or something. I was like, “Hey, Boo,” to remind him what a tard he was being and Jared snapped out. (Lily and Jared and I watched the To Kill a Mockingbird DVD like six times together and our favorite part is when Scout sees Boo Radley behind the door and goes, “Hey, Boo.” It’s like thanking the universe for sending you a benevolent retard to help you out, which is how I often feel about Jared.) So I was like, “Buy me a coffee.” And the Countess and Flood look at each other and shake their heads. No money.
    So I was like, “You guys are so fucking lame. You have piles of cash and you roll with no money. You are no longer the Dark Lord and Lady of me.” Which I totally didn’t mean, but I was stressed and starting to get a low-on-caffeine headache. But Jared goes, “Hey, Boo” at me, and he’s holding a ten-dollar bill. And I pretended to find a snag in my fishnets so everyone would quit looking at me.
    The Countess said she knew of a Chinese diner off Freemont Street that was open all night on Christmas and we could hang out there until the cops left. Jared and I had cups of coffee and an order of fries, which FYI, taste a little like shrimp in a Chinese diner. And Flood and the Countess are watching us, looking all sad. So I’m like, “What? What?