Coach

6.4.2k8

One meeelion years ago I was in a darkened room, lit only by a dozen CRT monitors. Only sounds were the clickity-clack of the keyboards, the tick-ticks of the mice, the cruel jokes about Greg's mom and the Dean-o drifting out of the yonder Tiki Suite. Then the phone rang. It was Tha Coach.

"I'm dropped off the thing at the place. Now I'm heading back but stopping at the joint. I'm bringing back yum-yums. Ask who wants one," she said.

"Coach is stopping by and picking up yum-yums for us. Who wants one?"

Two or three Freshys said yes.

"Three Freshys and me," I said to Coach.

"Copy that," she said, "four-plus-one yum-yums to go. How are we on Duck Sauce?"

"Duck sauce?" I said.

"That awesome hotsauce with the duck on it," she said.

"Anna," I said, "It's a rooster."

"Who cares," she said, "how much we got?"

"Plenty."

"Awesome. Inbound in twenty."

"Out."

We were on the phone. Fun to talk on phone like it's a walkie. Go!

Tonight - Homestead.



bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!