Hooka called round my house this morning.
She asked if she could come in. I wouldn't have invited her otherwise. We went into the kitchen and I offered her a cup of coffee. She asked for tea.
We sat and I let her speak first.
"I'm sorry I didn't come and meet you yesterday," she said.
I shrugged.
"Listen Tuesday Kid I like you but I'm with Fat Rab and I don't want to leave him."
"But he's a satanist," I said, wondering what the fuck she's doing with him.
"And you're a crack addict. You think it makes you cool? Like you're Pete Doherty or something?"
"No I don't and what do you think Fat Rab's like? Marylin Manson with a bear gut and a fucked up face?"
"Marylin Manson has a fucked up face," she said. "Just be my friend, please?"
I just shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't be fair on Gobbolino and Battle Cat."
She smiled, but it wasn't the smile I was looking for.
