[it's not even remotely related to what (who) he's thinking about (no high skirts, low payments, or helpful warning roars before dismemberment), and that... helps]
[he eases, chuckling through water on his face]
S'it actually take place in Hollywood, or was it made after the earth got blown tuh shit?
After, but it's like a tacky remake set or somethin'. The whores keep sacrificin' these johns ta Anubis, y'know, the dog-headed fucker? An' I'm pretty sure that shit's Egypt, not, uhhh, America. I think they blew their writer's budgets on corn syrup an' g-strings. Not that I'm complainin'.
[RING]
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[a shuffling and shifting (the usual shambles), before a drawl of]
Yahhh?
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-- Hey. I, ah...
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[in the background, the soft chatter and hum of a TV, genre indiscernible]
[another shift and stretch (the lazy dog, not the quick brown fox), and Badou prompts]
'Sup, Super Monk?
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...Nah, nothin'. Whatcha watchin'?
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Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers. It's goddamn terrible, I think its my new favourite.
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[he eases, chuckling through water on his face]
S'it actually take place in Hollywood, or was it made after the earth got blown tuh shit?
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Where ya at?
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[Badou's quick ramble next to his slow crackle feels right as the faucet twists off]
[it's so clean he doesn't feel it slide in -- yet]
That club on the sixty-second. Hadda couple customers.
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[an (appropriately) high-pitched scream from the television]
How'd it go? Papa bringin' home the bacon, makin' the dough, maybe orderin' a pizza tonight 'coz I'm real broke an' real hungry?
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[it's an annoyed, inattentive grunt with no real threat]
Yuh, pizza's fine, use the red card.
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[it's followed by a fumbling, with a familiar tchk tchk]
Why ya still hangin' around? You got more customers or you scorin'?
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[he was forgetting (but that wasn't really something he welcomed either, was it)]
I was on my way out when I called.
[judging from the bass still in the distance, unmoved, he hasn't waded the sea of bodies to get from the bathroom to the door]
...You any good at dancin'? Naw, that's a dumb question.
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