After a life-threatening grease fire, which she like makes worse by throwing fucking water on, we lose all hope for eggs this morning.
"Are you sure you know how to make eggs?" Angela asks as she runs her fingers through her nasty-ass perm. She’s wearing like this oversized fraternity t-shirt (not her boyfriend’s). She’s majoring in Fine Arts or something, but everyone knows she's going to ditch college like a bitch to marry her rich boyfriend Victor. She gets up, looks at the small flame, then at Nina, flares her nostrils and casually walks to the cupboard to grab her hand lotion. Fucking bitch.
"Cunt," Nina scolds. "How were those pizza rolls you made last night, bitch?”
Angela is offended because she got drunk last night and totally burned a shit load of pizza rolls, “Bitch.”
Nina clenches her fist, “Slut.”
After like two fucking minutes of a bitch-stare-down, Angela, aiming for Nina, throws some lotion on the kitchen floor. Nina turns around and makes a jacking-off hand gesture to us. Angela, completely oblivious to the gestures, is now concentrating on rubbing lotion on her ashy-ass slut legs. Nina begins to cook her eggs again.
"Is anybody else… you know… hungry?" I finally ask; it ends up sounding loud and cynical and I feel bad about how it comes out. I’m in my panties.
"Uh huh," sighs the chorus of girls in their panties.
"Calm the hell down!" Nina screeches out of character, “Bitches!” We’ve obviously hit like a sensitive nerve or something. She flips out and starts throwing handfuls of margarine at us, some landing directly on Angela’s hand as she rubs lotion on her legs.
A wave of giggles breaks the silence and Angela storms out of the kitchen, popping her chewing gum in her panties. She was so pissed.
Nina regains some of her composure enough to continue cooking, "They're like almost ready. Is everyone having their period," struggling to find a word, ". . .simultaneously . . . or something? I mean, shit." She's still a little aggitated.
While sitting down to eat, we all stare at the eggs in disgust. We’re all in our panties. Each girl, it seems, systematically flares their nostrils, sniffs the food, and looks away in protest. "Are eggs supposed to be . . . brown like that?" one of them asks, probably Denise.
"Ya'll can suck my dick!" howls Nina as she throws her utensils down and runs out of the kitchen in tears.
After like 5 minutes of staring at each other’s plates, we all leave the table in our panties to call our boyfriends.