CRAZY HOT

by Bella Belsova

Crossing the street, I hear "Ching, chow, ding-ching chan," and my head swivels, shocked. I couldn't believe someone was so loudly and cartoonishly mocking spoken Chinese. But then I see that it was actually a couple of Asian businessmen arguing. Or maybe they weren't arguing but they themselves were mocking some other Asian ethnicity; like making fun of the Japanese. Or maybe they were talking about some white person that mocked them and were imitating his cartoonish and belittling Chinese accent as part of the story. They caught me staring and I just nodded and pretended I understood what they were saying.

Nod nod "white people suck, don't they?" nod smile nod.

My cell phone rings. It's my sister.

"What's this about Karl Rove," she says.

"What?"

"Mom says you told Karl Rove to go fuck himself?"

"Oh yeah. I told her that I saw Karl Rove talking to Mario Cuomo on the street the other day and I just walked up to them and I said 'Excuse me Governor, fuck you Karl Rove!' Mom loved it. She laughed and laughed."

"Wow, so what did he say?"

"I just walked away."

"He didn't say anything?"

"Well, it didn't really happen, OK? I just told Mom that because it made her happy. Dad's cancer's got her down...and she fucking hates Karl Rove"

"What?"

"I'll call you later OK? Don't tell Mom," and I hang up.

Then on 48th street there was this FedEx guy talking on the phone. And one of the packages is just lying in the gutter, right near this dirty puddle, and he's just talking and talking. And then he starts giving the person he's talking to his phone number but in a TOTALLY weird way.

"It's five forty-one, fifty, twenty-seven."

Who does this guy think he is anyway? What is that some James Bond shit? All 'niner' instead of 'nine?' I didn't like it. I'm calling him later and I'm just gonna start yelling "FUCK YOU KARL ROVE, FUCK YOU KARL ROVE!!!!" until he hangs up.