ROSS NATZE, OR, A HORNY NINE-YEAR-OLD
"H-hello?" The woman chirped to match the jays. "Care for a nacho?" She thrust the plate at Kavi. A dauble of neon-orange cheese wobbled and fell.
"Uh…," Kavi peered past the woman's dyed-blonde puff. A massive television dominated the entire wall behind her, its screen flickering with blood and explosions. For a box home in Bakersville's Polish Village, the place seemed furnished well enough.
"Mooooooooom! Where are those nachos?" A thin voice screamed from inside the house.
The woman forced a smile and ushered Kavi in. The plate of nachos tottered dangerously on her arm with every step, chips, cheese and jalapeƱos sloshing from edge to edge. "Right this way."
