Friends

“He’s a CD.”

“A CD?”

“A Cute Douche.”

“Oh.”

“What? You look confused?”

“What’s a CD?”

“I already told you. He’s a Cute Douche. He’s cute but he’s a douche bag.”

“No. What’s CD really stand for?”

“It’s… I don’t know.”

“I thought you knew everything, Claire Madam Brainpan!”

“Shut up, Jerry! I do know everything/ I know that they used to use tree fibers for a toothbrush back in—”

“Yeah, yeah, and then some idiots died. No one cares about that stuff.”

“And no one cares about CDs anyway. I mean, whatever, right? I just have the MP3s in my phone that I listen to.”

“I think it stands for Copied Dis. Like, you hand someone a burned CD and say, ‘I copied ‘dis, yo!’”

“You look so ridiculous when you talk like that.”

“Or maybe it’s Crafty Dinosaur. I mean, you said that we don’t even use CDs anymore, right? They’re dinosaurs!”

“That would only make sense if they were always obsolete. But I’ve seen what my parents used to listen to. I don’t even understand how those tapes ever worked!”

“I’ve seen my dad’s old collection of tapes. I thought those things played old movies.”

“The big ones play movies. The little ones played songs.”

“That makes sense. When I download a movie file, its ubernormous! MP3s are tiny.”

“You can just say enormous, Jerry.”

“You can just shut your face, Claire. We were talking about your Cute Douche, Justin Hardywood.”

“It’s ‘Hargood’—”

“Whatever.”

“—and there’s nothing to tell. He looks cute when he’s running the track in those shorts but then he opens his mouth and I just want to slap him in the face with a can of tuna and tell him to stop sounding so stupid.”

“Why tuna?”

“I saw some cat hairs on my coat and James Meowmorrow has been in the back of my mind for a hot minute.”

“Uh, sure, okay. Maybe Hardwood—”

“Hargood.”

“—just talks that way because he wants to impress his friends. Maybe if you try and get to know him, he’d normalize.”

“I don’t know. Hey, what time is it?”

“What’s your phone say?”

“It’s in my purse. Get yours out of your pocket and see.”

“In the time it takes me—”

“In the time it takes you to finish that sentence, you can already have your phone in your hand and telling me the time instead of taking the time to tell me to get my phone out of my purse.”

“Ugh! It’s 4:30. You got somewhere to be, Claire Daines? St. Claire? Claire-voyant infomercial witch that subliminally has me turn on the TV every morning at 2:30 when I can’t sleep for mysterious reasons?”

“You can’t sleep because you eat your dinner so late. And, yeah, Mom is picking me up so we can go shopping.”

“For new shorts, for your CD, Justin Morningwood?”

“Are you twelve?”

“Are you an egg timer?”

“Where’d that come from?”

“Dad boiled some eggs for breakfast and I’ve been craving more ever since school started.”

“Oh, weird.”

“They’re good.”

“Explains why you love Easter so much.”

“That’s only part of the reason. The other part is the free candy I get from the Easter Bunny.”

“Easter Bunny?”

“Yeah. I know it’s really my dad, but he seems to get a kick out of it.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to burst your bubble, Little Jerry.”

“Doesn’t your mom put out an Easter basket for you?”

“Not anymore. I’m too old for that.”

“Huh, weird. I like the candy, but my dad gets a kick out of hiding the basket for me. Sometimes it’s like he’s the kid. But our parents are the same age.”

“Sounds like my mom’s the only one that grew up.”

“Yeah. Sucks to be you. Good luck shopping. 7:20 tomorrow morning?”

“Uh… yeah. But you don’t have to ring the doorbell, you know. Mom and me know it’s you.”

“Mom and I.”

“What?”

“It’s Mom and I, not Mom and me, Lady Brainpan. And you know I’m right.”

“Yeah, whatever. Oh, I found what CD stands for.”

“The power of mobile technology!”

“It’s ‘Compact Disc’.”

“Well, it is shaped like a disc, but why compact?”

“Uh, duh? Because it’s also shaped like the compact in my purse maybe?”

“That sounds about right.”

“Here’s Mom. Later, tater!”

“Take care, E-Claire!”



Word Count: 730