A true dialog:
Man, I’m going to get me one of those there literary movements, Quail says.
How, Evening says. She doesn’t seem particularly interested.
I think…
and here Quail paused since I don’t think she was really sure. But after a little bout of computer Battleship, she had the answer or at least A answer.
She says, I think you need some kind of like band from the early nineties.
OMG, Evening says, how about Stone Temple Pilots!
I love STP! I say. You could call yourselves the Sex Type Things…
Or say have you listened to the seventh song off Core? It’s called “Creep”. Oh I think I have their cassingle to this song somewhere, Evening says.
CREEP by Stone Temple Pilots
Forward yesterday
Makes me wanna stay
What they said was real
Makes me wanna steal
Livin’ under house
Guess I’m livin’, I’m a mouse
All’s I gots is time
Got no meaning, just a rhyme
Take time with a wounded hand
‘Cause it likes to heal
Take time with a wounded hand
Guess I like to steal
I’m half the man I used to be
This feeling as the dawn
It turns to gray
I’m half the man I used to be
This feeling as the dawn
It turns to gray
Feelin’ uninspired
Think I’ll start a fire
Everybody run
Bobby’s got a gun
Think you’re kinda neat
Then she tells me I’m a creep
Friends don’t mean a thing
Guess I’ll leave it up to me
(How did she sing this? With the title intact? Will investigate later…)
I don’t care how many royalties I’ll have to pay to Scott Weiland, it’s all worth it, Quail says. This the most she’s said in years. Minutes, even.
Kill your ancestors, Evening says, and then she goes back to her Cryptoquip, ‘neath the roar of our evening fire.
But I still like the Sex Type Things:
I ain’t, I ain’t, I ain’t
A buyin’ into your apathy
