Still it didn’t work. It couldn’t have worked
out between them. Even after Patrick presented her with the rose which he
foisted from a random garden down the street (or was it the garden in front of
Tim’s house?) Even after Patrick quoted her the old Confucius adage about how
it is good to meet girl in park but even better to park meat in girl. After all
of this, still, nothing. It couldn’t have worked. Something inside Kitty Petite still loved Dave. Something inside of Patrick still loved the girl he had
just written a song for simply titled “Don’t Go.” At the time Patrick composed
the lyrics to his composition he did not realize how splintering a truth of
that song would become—it would stay inside his heart callused like a grade
school boys palm and monkey bars.
Kitty’s
initiation into the group of friends Hale has so euphemistically entitled “LUMS BUMS” came via an invitation from Strickler’s
Drea. Kristina was in dire need of a date for prom and even composed a poem
about her prom dress exigency, comparing prom to a Book report. Drea knew that
D. was single and salted out like the thick German meat he was. They met the
night of the WIZ at LUMS. Dave was still
dressed up in his stage-make-up and WIZ costume, performing an encore rendition
of "And now it's time for this here Wiz to Wiz on himself" with a
southern lilt.
Both nights of the production Book
Bag Bob, Lip savvy Jack-o, Hale and Patrick showed up, sat in the front row and
mimed David’s every dramatic gesticulation.
Patrick hollering out, “Go Elvis” like he were his mom at a Paul
McCartny concert.
After the
show the foursome skulked around backstage, chiding David on his bungled
baritone. Patrick asking whether or not Beth isn’t single once again and
inadvertently walking into the changing room quickly espying a pantyhosed and
bra’d Olivia Danvers changing out of her Winky costume and back into her
corduroy jean garb.
“Was Andrea
in the audience with a blonde headed girl?” The Now it’s time for this here WIZ
to Wiz on himself inquires.
“Yes she
was.” Patrick replying to David in his trademark jean jacketed Top Gun
affirmative thumb up nod.
“Was she a
hot?” i.e., did Patrick happen to by chance garner unbidden glances at her ass
and possible make out auspicious panty-lines through her flowery diaphanous
silk skirt while she was too busy enthralled with the emerald Follies of the
Now It’s Time for This here WIZ to WIZ on himself on stage.
“Yes she
was.” Patrick is the only human being I know of on planet earth who talks by
nodding his head instead of moving his lips.
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