Karen comes into the party like a desperado, bandoleers and mustachios and all. “I’m here and I’m not leaving until I make out with six people,” she bawls, chewing on an empty cigarette holder.
Someone laughs nervously and one guy in the back steps forward. “I’ll take that bet,” he says. Karen smiles and her eyes glint hungrily. They make out like two leopards, wary and fierce. Everyone at the party cheers when they’re done, like it’s a play.
“Who’s next?” says Karen as the guy works his way back toward his friends, his lips a little purple with bruising.
“Me,” says a voice, and Karen has to look way down to see this girl, she can’t be more than four and a half feet tall, but she’s smiling and decked out in a cow-print dress and spangly earrings..
“You look like a hipster,” says Karen, dismissively.
“Honey, I’ll rock your world,” says the girl, and spits out her toothpick. Karen has to bend over to reach her but the girl grabs her hair and keeps her down there. When they’re done Karen’s a little out of breath and one of her mustachios is stuck to the girl’s lip.
“Next?” she says.