I talk to myself quite a bit. Walking out and about ya know, I'll speak out loud pseudo-conversations to entertain myself because when my mind runs it sprints out through the twitch of my fingers, the quirk jig in a step and the gibber from my mouth. Being a loner (or once a loner, anyways) does that to you, aye? Even with the cheers of OJD now, when I walk it as one I chat it up celebration solo.
Or with Nick.
Who I walked with this morning. Out on Mabury, down the sidewalk towards Capitol I humored over the riot assassination scene in Scarface. I thought it funny to re-enact that sequence with friends out randomly in a cheery shop-shop place like Valley Fair or Oakridge where one or two would chant Libertad!!. . . Libertad!!. . . Libertad!! and then I would follow up on approach menacingly from the other side groaning REBENGGGGA!!
The thing is, on this overcast morning walk with Nick I said REBENGGGGA!! out loud in a similar manner that Manolo does (but with a chuckle add-on, naturally oyeep) and to me left in an open garage a plaid girl with arms stretched scrounging the top of her car turned her blonde dyed-hair towards me all quizzical.
"Oop Nick," I continued on tickled telling ButtFace in a say trailing off, "Libertad, Nick. Libertad!! . . ."
Ahhh foolish, hah.
Didn't really get around to Tony Montana's "From a friend you fucked" hit part because I get the fun stupid joy from sayehREBENGGGGA!!
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