Freaky John was getting beers in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. “Snake, man, get the fuckin’ door.”
Snake changed the channel and put down the remote in disgust. “You know, this is what’s wrong with society these days. Soon as they ditched the T-tops on ‘Knight Rider,’ the world went to hell in a fuckin’ handbasket.”
“Unbelievable.” Freak came back to the couch and handed Snake a beer. “Convertible was cool, though.”
“That’s not the point. Fuckin’ America’s a disaster right now, and it all comes down to K.I.T.T. and those fucking T-tops.”
The doorbell rang again.
“You can’t say that, though. Cause we had convertibles before we had T-tops,” Freak pointed out rationally. “They only put T-tops on the Firebird because they outlawed convertibles for some stupid-ass reason in the seventies. But you could say the T-tops are what—”
“Dude! Who would win in a fight, General Lee or K.I.T.T.?”
“What the fuck?”
“Who would win?” Snake punched his arm. “K.I.T.T. or the General?”
Freak made a face. “Man, that is the stupidest fuckin’ question you ever asked me.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“It is not fucking stupid!”
“Fuck, yeah! What’s next, tag team with My Mother the Car and Chitty Fuckin’ Bang Bang?”
Snake blinked. “Whoa. That’s got fuckin’ possibilities, dude.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Chitty can fly and shit, right? What does your Mom the Car do?”
“Will you shut the fuck up and watch the goddamn television?”
More knocking, louder than before.
“How can I? It’s fuckin’ Michael Knight, he’s like haunting me or something.” Snake caught sight of himself in the mirror and puffed up his chest. “Although I have to admit, he looks like me.”
Freaky John shook his head incredulously. “You are so full of shit, man. For the last fucking time, you look nothing like David Hasselhoff.”
“Hessendorf,” Snake corrected.
“Whatever!” Freak threw a pillow at the TV. “Hey, you gonna answer the door or what?”
Snake pushed himself up from the sofa and opened the door. “Nobody’s there.”
“Fuck.”
Snake closed the door and came back to the couch. “People are so fuckin’ rude, you know? Which brings me back to my original point: everything went to hell when they ditched the T-tops.”
Freak rolled his head and belched. “Yeah, man, unbelievable.”
“You got any weed?”
Copyright 2005 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved. Reproduction without prior written consent prohibited.