"Daddy... are you at work....I miss you...when you...when you.... Another voice comes on the answering machine, "Hi baby, as you can hear Kali's having a bad day. give us a call when you get home, I love you". "Damn", he says out loud to himself as he feels a multi-pronged spore of guilt crawl up his body from the finger that touched the machine. Why did he give her that name? At the time he was simply grooving on the edgy music that name evoked with its hip hop reference to her birth state as well as the Indian Goddess of destruction. "You could also interpret her power as one of transformation", he rationalized to Rachelle in those self-satisfied days of imminent lifespring. But like his sampleslaya Epps likes to riff in times of moral opposition, "A dogs got to be a motherfuckin' dog". Yeah, thats right no matter that we're all growing a bit snug in our ultra-wides and some flecks of grey are wreaking serious signal to noise ratio to our closely trimmed goatees, the game ain't over and there is not much body fat on the lady who sings for me.
"Daddy are you at work?" " Fuck you, that shit is not the least bit humorous". He swings the bedroom door all the way open and see's that fuckin thong again. Damn, damn, damn, how a boy can worship an object to the point where the very gaze can excite and also dispel any semblance of rationale. You know I can't stand that fuckin smoke".