“I would do anything to have hair like that,” Darina said, crunching her Monster Munch.
“Mnnn,” Maeve toyed with the remote control, ready to flick just because that’s what her finger had been doing for the last 30 minutes. “Just push the button.”
Siouxsie continued her stilted shuffle on TV.
“Is she emo dancing?” Darina explored the corners of the crisp packet for final crumbs of Monster Munch goodness.
“Uh no, gobshite, this is the 80s. Emo wasn’t even alive then.”
“You weren’t even alive then.”
“She wasn’t even alive then,” Maeve nodded her head at the TV but Siouxsie didn’t seem to mind. Her impossibly pale, matte face stared back at them as though there were a hollow world made of garishly-dressed, re-caffeinated skeletons inside the TV, and in this world it was Halloween all the time. She continued droning out her pleas for sex and falling stars.
“How does she do her hair?”
“Why don’t you call her and ask her?”
“No need to be snarky.”
“Go Google it.”
“That’s all anyone ever says nowadays whenever anyone asks anything. It’s stupid. Soon nobody will ever explain anything anymore.”
“So….so maybe we should like, I dunno, like talk to each other or something or like make our eyes look at each other’s eyes when we talk so that we…I dunno….stop staring at screens. You know?”
The Monster Munch were definitely gone. Darina pouted at Siouxsie, but Siouxsie just repeated ri…ght no…w over and over, as the TV flickered on their faces, and the 9pm watershed drifted by.
I’m sure you can probably guess which song it was, this week…
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