The Bunny and the Brit

"Blacking in and out in a strange flat in East London..."

I sat on the couch next to Coco. "Girly, are you singing what I think you're singing?"

She shotgunned a beer and threw the can over the coffee table onto a pile of crushed aluminum. "I'm getting ready for the Frank Turner concert tonight at 9:30 Club, get off my back."

I began gathering the cans into a trash bag, "No Coco, Renata and I are going to the show tonight, you have to stay here." 

She spit in my general direction, but missed. "Screw that. I'm going. He speaks to me! I've written the lyrics to Recovery in my notebook over and over again in preparation."

I sat on the couch. "Coco, that song isn't just about being a booze bunny like you. Haven't you listened to the whole album?"

She eyed me up. "Yeah, I've listened...to that sexaaay British accent! Ow ow!!"

"Cokes, you are hammered. Again. I think you should take the night off. I'll play you Frank Turner songs tonight before we leave."

She mumbled under her breath. "I'm going...back stage. And if you try to stop me I will beat...you...down."