It's a real Shitshow

“…”

“WhaT?”

“Why are you people allergic to saying “you all”? If you’re going to be improper, at least do it properly.”

Trina was all too eager to press play on the stereo before taking her front row seat on his living room couch. This was... important. Or at least they’d both said it was. She wanted to see this routine as much as he wanted to show it off and maybe it was the half drank bottle of JD talking but it was very important. Like a comfortable way to level up their already close friendship, or whatever people would call what they had. She’d take a bullet for him, and vice versa she knew without question because they believed in each other, their cause, their work.

But this wasn’t work, this was Trina gathering every dollar bill she had in her purse the way a crack addict dug for the last of their stash. It was necessary feeling, and excitement and liquid courage and some bass heavy pop song playing. 

I’m so fancy, you already know... I’m in the fast lane, from LA to Tokyo...