Blue Suede

Janis Joplin OS

“That may be the least funny joke I’ve ever
heard in my entire life,” she said. “I want
my two minutes back. You owe me twenty cents.”

“What say I just give you a piece of my mind?”
I replied. “Or would you like my heart, Janis?”
“Janis?” she asked. “Joplin,” I answered. “That’s who

you remind me of, if Janis looked like a
supermodel with legs longer than my … uh.”
She grinned, slightly, but turned away to hide it.

“You should go,” she said, quietly. “You couldn’t
handle me.” I just chuckled. She snapped her head
around and glared my way. “Go! Get out of here!

This is not where you belong. You’re a weirdo
and you have awful taste in movies,” then she
flicked me of with both middle fingers and spat

on the ground around my feet. Some of it got
on my shoes. I stared at them for a minute.
So did she, then she tilted her head. “Are those…”


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