BREAKFAST It's Sunday morning. We all try to be together at breakfast on Sundays. Maria is there. Together, we are putting out cereal bowls, spoons, fruit, boxes of Frosted Flakes and Lucky Charms. Maria has ground up some Jamaican Blue and the coffee is almost ready. Beside my bowl and Karen's is our little pink happy pill. Howard and Karen amble in, the sleep still on them--Howard in shorts and a white t-shirt, Karen in a short maroon terrycloth robe. "Wake and bake?" says Howard, producing a bowl from somewhere and lighting it. It works its way around the table. "Wow," says Karen, who is carefully eating her Lucky Charms, working her spoon around so to leave all the marshmallows until the end, when they'll be eaten in one huge, gooey slurp. "This is the best Lucky Charms *ever*. Hey--Bow Wow Wow--" Bow Wow Wow was on VH-1. "I know a boy who's tough but sweet, He's so sweet he can't be beat. Got everything that I desire. Sets the summer sun on fire. I want candy..." "Haven't heard *that* in so long," says Howard. Karen says, "I used to want to *be* her." She was talking about Annabella, Bow Wow Wow's 14(?)-year-old lead singer. Malcolm Mclaren, the Sex Pistol's guru had found Annabella working in a laundry in Burma, brought her back to England, gave her a cool haircut, and created every adolescent's teen cream dream. "...I like candy when it's wrapped in a sweater..." "But," says Maria. "You couldn't have been more than nine or ten when this song came out." "I know, but my older sister Cathy was really into all that New Wave stuff. I remember I liked that Bow Wow Wow girl because she had a really cute, little butt." "...so sweecha make my mouth water..." "I also thought that girl who sang, oh, you know--" "Goodbye to You?" says Howard, tuning in to his lover's wavelength. "Patty Smyth?" says Maria. "Scandal?" "Yeah, she had a really cute butt too." Indeed she did. Howard refills the bowl and took a hit off of that expensive black Afghan pot. It was something else. From moment to moment you would feel deep resonances within yourself, almost as one does when one unexpectedly encounters a familiar odor from long ago. Maria suddenly gets up and bolts into the stereo room. She returns with my brother's old Gibson acoustic, jumps on the floor in front of the tv and starts picking out the bouncy riff to "I Want Candy" on it. She's watching the guitarist's hands on the tv. "Let's see," she says, looks like a G...up here...with an added.." and before too long she has it. "Hey Rich," says Karen, as a commercial comes on, "What do you have to major in to become a "Master Reincartionist?" "Well, it's not so much what you major in *now*..." "Ah," says Karen. "If I was reincarnated, I'd wanna be Chrissy Hynde." "Chrissy Hynde?" "Yeah. She seems pretty cool. Taught Johnny Rotten to play guitar. Had Ray Davies' kid. But no way could you get me to live in Akron." "I'm glad she didn't teach *me* to play," says Maria, strumming the guitar ludicrously fast and growling, "God save the queen, I did it my way, she ain't a human being, I am an AntiChrist-ah, I am an anarchist-ah, don't know what I get--" "Not Akron?" says Howard. "Dayton? Sydney? Cleveland? Cincinnati?" "London. I'd want to be a punk. But not like here. Here it was just about fashion. Over there it was real. Political. Shit. But I wouldn't want to be poor--" "A rich punk rocker, eh?" "Yeah. Silver spoon and a paper plate." Maria says, "Cut that out." "With my *nails*?" adds Karen "Stop it," says Maria. "Before I get sick." She was picking out the notes of some odd-looking jazz chord. "My hands are too small. I wish I had big hands." "Well, says Howard. "You know you're the one." "That's it." She covered her hands with her ears and started singing. "Remember when you were young? You shone like the sun. Shine on, you crazy diamond Now there's a look in your eyes Like black holes in the sky Shine on, you crazy diamond--" Karen grabbs Maria's wrists and pulls her hands away from her ears and says, "Read my lips, sweetness: No. Pink. Floyd." "Oooh, catfight," says Howard. "Knew it was just a matter of time." "Now, now. Show some compassion, little brother, they're still misaligned." "Misaligned?" "Yup." Karen says, "It's a pussy thing, Howard. You wouldn't-" "Sheesh," says Maria. "You're like a fucking truck driver." "Yeah," I say to Howard. "Hormones. Progesterone, estrogen. But the ones that're causing all the problems are called prostaglandins, I think." "Now I see, misaligned." "But in a few months, if they don't kill each other first, their cycles of ovulation should be perfectly matched--" "That'll make deciding what videos to rent a hell of a lot easier. No more of these "Sorrow and the Pity"/"Desert Hearts"/"Backdoor Blondes #12" triple bills." "Heh. Exactly. Ideally, they would begin ovulation with the coming of each new moon, every 28 days, then would come the minor depression of the waxing crescent, the shopping binges of the half- moon, the anger of the gibbous, the secret, black rituals of the full moon, another angry gibbous, and of course the frightening, no-holds-barred lasciviousness as the waning crescent brings us back, 28 days later, to another new moon. Howard continued, hamming it up. "The smell of the rain-washed florin! The lure of the lira! The glitter and the glory of the guinea The romance of the ruble! The cold antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc! And the sunburnt splendor of the Australian dollar!" Maria stands up like she's about to get something from the kitchen, looks at me, and says, "Where do you *get* this stuff?" "Right here," I say, tapping a finger to my chest. "Under my left nipple." "Maria?" She sat back down on the floor and leaned forward so the blood would return to her face. Karen says, "You skipped PMS." "Yeah, I know." "Typical, just typical. Okay," says Karen. "Bad pick-up lines." Howard says, "I'll start. Yes, that is a Beretta 93R in my pocket and I *am* happy to see you." I say, "You know, honey, my kittens don't have four limbs among the eight of them, but they're soooo friendly." "Ick." Howard says, "Shave it and call me Daddy." "Pithy. Effective?" "Not." Karen says, "Hey big boy, tell me, is that a birthmark or Caposi's Sarcoma?" "Ouch." "Can we please not do any AIDS ones? Please?" "All right. Celebrity math. Olivia Newton-John minus Crocodile Dundee?" "That's an easy one," says Maria. "Debbie Gibson. All right. James Dean minus Al Pacino?" "Johnny Depp." "I like that one. Luciano Pavarotti minus Enrico Caruso." "Dom Deluise." "Paul Prudhomme." "Stop. You're both right." "Laurence Olivier minus Laurence Olivier?" "William Shatner." "Double ouch. He was funny on Saturday Night Live." "Yeah, and he was good in 'The Andersonville Trial'. But he's still Captain Kirk." "All right. Joan of Arc plus the Mr. Clean guy." "Jane Wiedlin?" "Sinead O'Connor." "Shit, I was thinking of that "Bill & Ted" movie." Karen says, "I heard the dumbest thing the other day." "Dumb thing?" says Maria. "Yeah. Dumb things. Remember when the power went out yesterday?" "Yup." "Well, I was with Howard in the video store. And the guy says--" "I nearly shit," says Howard. "This guy says, 'Dag, I wish the tv would come back on so we could get the news and know how much longer the power's gonna be out. Dag." The he looks around and says, hey, what's so funny?" "The whole store was dying. But he never knew." "All right," I say. "Dumb thing. We're at this steakhouse. All we hear from the guy at the table behind us is, '*Well* done. Doctor's orders. No red meat." "No way." "It's true," says Howard. "I remember." Maria says to Karen. "You notice it's only guys that say the dumb things." "Yup." "No surprise." "If I were reincarnated, I'd definitely want to come back as a girl." "Oh really now," says Maria, nudging my calf with a bare foot. "Oh yeah. Seems like it'd be much more fun." "Fun?" "Yeah. Like shopping. When a man goes shopping, it's pretty much a straightforward thing, but women, wow, way more choices. Like lingerie; there's really no male equivalent: teddies, baby dolls, crotchless panties, lace, dresses, skirts, snappy pantsuits- -." "Don't forget the--" "Cheese?" says Howard, and is kicked. "Shoes," says Maria. "Oh shit yeah. Flats, pumps, heels, boots, sneakers, espadrilles, those dragon sandal things. Plus, you can always shop in the men's section too." "For sweaters," says Karen. "I only buy sweaters from men's." "You see, that whole shopping experience, that's all closed off to us, we don't get any of that." "Oh, you do too," says Maria. "In sporting goods." "Oh yeah," says Howard. "Herman's." "It's not the same." "You only want what's fun." "Yup. Fun. And big tits. Did I mention big tits?" "Oh yeah." "That reminds me, Karen. Leave the Victoria's Secret catalog in the bathroom, wouldja?" "But I was gonna order something. It'll just get ruined." "So order it and get on their mailing list. The one you've got's addressed to *me*." "Fine." "Fine." And so the day begins...