Flash Friday or why I should be paid not to write flashes in Flash Friday

“Some say love it is a taco
With steak bites and cilantro,
Some say love it is a twinkie
Or perhaps, um, a fat ho-ho,
I say love’s a baseball diamond
With you the squat short stop
Love it is a short stack
At your favorite Ihop …
So great or what?”

“Yeah, no. You can’t do that.”

“What, it’s a fucking great song.”

“Yeah, no. You can’t do that.”

“What, it’s fucking great.”

“What part of yeah, no don’t you understand?”

“The no part, it’s a great fucking song.”

“Yeah, it was when the squinchy faced short chick did it a hundred years ago. Partly because she wrote it and mostly because it didn’t do things like “… perhaps, um, a fat ho-ho” or any other hostess product references.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“I won’t.”

“You must, how come I never heard of it, and, shit, you’re a lawyer, if I ain’t never heard it of it ain’t that plausible something or other?”

“I’m not a lawyer, I’m a brother in law probably because my sister was dropped on her head as a kid, you asked me to be a manager and I said no.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“Same thing as what?”

“Same thing all the other lawyers said, hence, through deductive and clear reasoning of the logic kind; you’re a lawyer. Do something about the squinchy chick.”

“I will. I will buy a cd of hers for you, hell, you’re family, I’ll only charge you cost.”

“Great that gives me copyrights yeah? Hell she should thank me for cleaning it up for her. You think hostess will gimme props for plugging them?”

“I think both events are equally possible.”

“Cool, so write it up, ok?”