Need to make it realistic....

“I can’t believe he wants us to wear these.”

 

“It’ll be fun. Give you a chance to brush up on your feminine side.”

 

“Feminine side my ass. This is perverted. What must your brother be thinking?”

 

“Maybe he was getting you back for not accepting the fact that, yes indeed; Julia Roberts would make a good Rogue.”

 

Pause. Smirk. Continue.

 

“We held a consensus before your last role-playing outing.”

 

Smirk. Pause. The rattling and trepidation of makeup.

 

“You don’t think it will be much of a problem securing Tracy’s vehicle do you for the mission, do you?”

 

Fondling over a cylinder of Theresa’s lip stick, outlining the oval dimensions of his chapped lips, fluttering lashes into the chipped contours of a shared mirror. A severed Rabbits ear with jiggling piercings are heard and echoes nicely in the linoleum coated room.

 

“The bitch is once again in the cemetery with ass-hole Erin, whose name is spelled like a girl.  No I got her keys easily. Unfortunately I still don’t have my license. I may, how shall I say it….”

 

Eye-lids flutter in a sparkle of eye-liner.

 

“…I may need your assistance in pressing down on the gas.”

 

“I knew there was a reason Patrick took me to Kartsville last week, paying for the admission with his Birthday allowance.”

 

“Killer party by the way.”

 

“I’m just glad we we’re able to rescue Hale.”

 

“Tub of….”

 

“Don’t say it.”

 

“He’s not on this mission now, is he?”

 

 “Tim.”

 

“Well fuck that. He’ll fuck up the whole plan. I wish Boner was back in town, this is totally his cup of tea.”

 

“I think Hale will be alright.”

 

“Yeah.”

           

“Tim.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“You’re not giving him a chance.”

”It’s just that he’s royally fucked up every role playing adventure I’ve ever been so gracious to set him up with.  What’s that character, weakling he devised that he incessantly plays in Von B’s campaign called? Juggernaut?”

 

“Tim.”

 

“What.”

 

“Quit it.”

 

“Make me.”

 

“Easier said than done.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,”

 

“What’s that you’re removing from your purse?”

 

“Say cheese Big Boy.”

 

“Why you little, wait to our next adventure. You’re masticated spam spittle.”

 

Snap. A photo slides through the extended chin of the Polaroid. Tim is seen in make-up and rollers.”

 

“Fag!”

 

“Go ahead. Take it back.  Take it back about Hale.”

 

“Fucker!”

 

“Oh, not only can my brother win any BMX course designated in the West Bluff he also has a photographic memory and I believe he already has memorized the address, digits and B-day of someone, ohhhh, perhaps say Holly Turner.”

 

“Dick.”

 

“What would Miss Turner say?”

 

“Help me with this wig. And these pantyhose. Did you purloin these from Tracy’s room as well?”

 

“From my Mom.  They were unopened.  We’ll at least mine were.   Actually, I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought in these.”

 

“……….”

 

“It’s just like dressing up as Dracula for Halloween. Not bad at all.”

 

“……”

 

“And around the torso. Oh, so loose.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Dick.”

 

“Here, spray some of this perfume on.”

 

“…….”

 

“It’s called tranquility.”

 

“…….”

 

“Need to make it realistic.”