Под покровом ночи. Talk Like a Playa
‘Jeez,’ Charlie said, turning and looking out the back window.
Minty Fresh seemed to turn his full attention to driving safely now. ‘What the hell are those things?’
‘I call them sewer harpies. They’re the things that call to us from the storm sewers. They’re a lot stronger now than they used to be.’
‘They’re scary is what they are,’ said Minty.
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie said. ‘Have you gotten a good look at them? I mean, they got the badonkadonk out back and some fine ba-joopbadangs up front, know what I’m sayin’, dog? Buss a rock wid a playa?’ He offered his fist for Minty to buss him a rock, but alas, the mint one left him hangin’.
‘Stop that,’ Fresh said.
‘Sorry,’ Charlie said.
‘Talk Like a Playa in Ten Days or Less — Stone Thug Edition?’ Minty asked.
Charlie nodded. ‘We got the CD into the store a couple of months ago. I practice in the van. How am I doing?’
‘Your Negro-osity is uncanny. I had to keep checking to make sure you’re still white.’