My nipples are hurting.
Oh stop with that face. I'm not a woman
but they can still hurt.
They itch
and it's all because of Savannah, that bitch.
She makes us
wear only Benetton
during "working hours."
I try to explain,
"Savannah, I'm eating, not working."
She thinks
she can intimidate me with her fat
dread locks.
After I finish my burrito,
I'm going to walk up to Fifth Avenue,
I'm going to kick those glass doors
wide open
and I'm going to say,
Savannah,
I don't care
how African-American you think
you are.
I am not impressed.
I will not scratch myself to death
for you.
I am an artist.
And someday
Benetton
will come
for me
to dance in their commercials.



Penya Sandor

What it Means to Be Quirky