Diet Coke
Chapter 1: "I Need a Cow!"
Maureen sat at her cluttered desk, thinking, for a change. She was trying to write the perfect protest to perform at the Eleventh Street lot on Christmas Eve. Something interesting. Something thought provoking. Something that would get the city's attention, but not so bad that she'd get arrested. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'maybe I should ride in on a motorcycle. No, an electric scooter. No! A tandem bicycle. Yes! A tandem bicycle, with Joanne!' She scribbled it down. Maureen, feeling bored, looked out the window at the rising moon. 'Boy,' she thought, 'the moon sure looks an awful lot like my ass.' So, she included the moon in her list of ideas. After all, if something looked like her ass, it had to be a good thing. Then she turned on the TV and found herself watching Sesame Street. Big Bird and Elmo were singing that fucked-up nursery rhyme about the cow jumping over the moon. "Thank you, Big Bird! I always used to think that you and your screwed up friends were on crack, but I guess I was wrong!" She leaped off of her couch and dialed Joanne's number as fast as she could. "Joanne!" she exclaimed breathlessly, "I need a cow!"
Joanne was silent for several seconds. "Where am I going to get a cow in New York City?"
"Ask Mark. Mark has everything."
"Mark is not going to have a cow."
"He can get one, can't he?"
"Maureen, I don't know about this…"
"Just like a lawyer. Always being logical."
"Seriously, Maureen…"
"You know what? I'll get the cow myself," said Maureen, and she hung up. She dug into the fridge and began eating popsicles. By her tenth, she had a stomachache. So she went to the craft store and bought some sticks. "Why didn't I think of this earlier?" she asked as she paid. The nerdy cashier shrugged and winked. He left his phone number on the bottom of her receipt.
"Call me," he mouthed at her as she left.
Maureen flipped him off.