I stepped out to grab the mail today and found Coco sitting on the front step. She was wearing her new shades and sipping on some bourbon.
"Go back inside. I'm waiting for my ride."
I sat down next to Coco and told her to give me the scoop. She explained that she met some college bros a few weeks back when she was bootlegging tank tops outside a Dave Matthews concert. She pinned them as easy targets, considering they bought most of her merch, so phone numbers were exchanged.
"And just where do you think you're going with these people?"
She lowered her shades, "If you must know, we're going to a music festival in Baltimore. The guys are hooking me up with a folding chair so I can set it up and charge the stoner glowstick kids $5 each to pet me."
I rubbed her ears. "So let me make sure I'm hearing you correctly. You're going to Maryland to have high people pet you for money?"
She nodded. "Yep. The higher they get, the better. Apparently people on ecstasy love touching things."
A car pulled up. "Listen, I gotta go. I told them I'd pay for the booze with my earnings, but you and I both know that's not happening. Like I always say, 'Morons make my world go 'round.'"