What did you say?

On the way into the grocery store (you know the one
behind the cali fusion temple to tacos), what do I hear?

Didja get some last night, or didja go home ‘n make millions of shower babies?

Inside the store, subject to millions of images of gross ‘n grunty middle-aged paunchy grocery
store manager getting some—compliments of one overactive imagination—
I forget the sour cream.

In the local cafe (you know the one where the first owner went missing ‘n everyone’s got a tale
about what she’s up to now), what did one barista just say to another?

You couldn’t find it because you’re a guy and guys can’t find shit!

Would you like to hear her scowl—sour-faced and venomous—and link gender (any gender) to
lack as you sup your morning brew?

—Amber Hudson Fend

If you've got an itch to say something, say it!