Chicago and Chipmunks
“So, you’re going to sit there like that the whole night?”
“You don’t want to go out?”
“I have to sit here and look at your sorry face the whole night?”
No. You can leave.
“No, I can’t leave. I want to see you cry.”
I’m not going to cry.
“If I stay here long enough, you’ll cry.”
Why do you want to see me cry?
“Two reasons, really. Uno, you make a really funny sound when you cry. Kind of like a chipmunk dying. Dos, it will be good for you.”
How do you know what a chipmunk sounds like when it dies? I don’t feel like crying.
“Sure you do. Just let it out. Here, listen to this.”
You’re playing a Chicago CD. Why?
“Just close your eyes and listen to the words. He’s talking about love. See that? You don’t have that anymore. Feel like crying?”
Tell me again why I hang out with you? Turn that off Miguel. That’s seriously really bad music.
“Just cry El. Just cry. Trust me hombre. It will make you feel better.”
Eres un grande idiota.
He is right though. It does make you feel better. And for the record, I don’t sound like a chipmunk dying. Not really.