Angels and demons.
Saturday February 7, 2009
“Ugh,” said the angel, peeling sweat-soaked lace from her ass.
“You didn’t have to wear the liquid latex,” said the demon. She’d started peeling the stuff off with her fingers, and ragged strips of bright red shiny skin hung from her now-bare breasts, her arms, her thighs.
“You got a smoke?” said the angel.
“In a California restroom?” said the demon. But she passed over a pack of American Spirits.
“I’ve got the Scotch,” said the Catholic schoolgirl. She kicked off her clunky mary janes and padded over stocking-footed to hand the bottle to the angel.
“Fuck,” said the vampire, dabbing at her nipples with a cottonball. “Goddamn spirit gum.”
“Goddamn Comic Con,” said the angel, slumping back against the brick wall.
“Beats the car shows,” said the superheroine, pulling off her domino mask, fingering a crumb of mascara from the corner of her eye.