i can't quite make it out. it's a woman. she's over there. she's bending over. she has a bag. what's in the bag? she's getting something out of the bag. it's hair. big clumps of hair. why does she have hair in her bag? there's no conceivable reason why she would have hair in her bag. now she's holding a prosthetic buttocks in her hand. she's putting it on. she's sliding the prosthetic buttocks down the back of her sweat pants. it's on. now she's stuffing the hair back into her bag. she's walking. she's coming over here. she's saying something.
"where you at?"
what does she mean where am i at? i'm right here, directly in front of her. why is she asking me where am i at? how can i answer that. i'm going to tell her that i'm right here in front of her face. i'm going to ask her why she has hair in her bag.
"you're supposed to be here an hour ago."
she's not talking to me. she has a phone. she's talking to someone on the phone. they were supposed to be here an hour ago.
"this is some bullshit."
she's hanging up the phone. she's looking at me. why does she have hair in her bag? i don't know why someone would walk around with a bag full of hair.
"excuse me, do you know what time it is?"
it's time for you to tell me what's in the bag. that's what i'm going to say. and why is it in there?
"oh never mind."
she is looking at her phone. she probably has a clock on her phone.
"my partner is supposed to be here."
i already know about her partner. i'm going to change the subject. oh, she's talking again.
"can you tell me where the ping-pong is?"
she's not going to tell me about the hair.
"oh, look, i'll follow them."
there are people and they have bags and they are wearing t-shirts that say ping-pong. she's following them. she yells something. she catches up. she recognizes someone. they are chatting now. she holds her bag up and slaps it. the other one nods.
for christ's sake. why on earth does she have hair in her bag?