“Sounds exciting,” Tina said, as Angelica began to cry. 

Bette: “God does that thing ever shut up.”

Tina: “What, babe?”

Bette: “Nothing, love.”

Bette had been knocking on Alice‘s door for a while.  She backed away and was about to leave until she heard the lock turn.  Stretching her neck, she noticed one sleepy eye peering through the crack.  “What are you doing?  I’ve been standing out here forever.”

Bette pushed her way into the dark, musty apartment and began to look around.  “Oh Alice, what the hell?”

Pizza boxes now lined the hallway leading into the living room.  Her clothes were scattered about; abandoned and left for dead wherever Alice happened to undress and in the middle of the living room, a life-size cardboard cut out of Dana Fairbankskarate chopped to bits! 

Bette: “Love what you’ve done with the place.  What is it, research; writing an article on “Trash Chic?”

 “Go ahead, Bette Porter, take your best shot.  Everyone else has,” Alice said, stumbling over to the couch before throwing herself into it.

Ripping the curtains open, Bette shrieked.  “Holy shit, and who inspired your look, Howard Hughes?”

There she was, sprawled out on the couch chomping on yesterday’s stale donut recovered from the coffee table.  Her hair looked as though a cow had licked it five times to the side and she donned a pink frilly robe with stains down the fronton her feet; two sad pink – fur bunny slippers with one of the eyes mysteriously missing from the left foot.  She crossed her legs and taking another crunchy bite off the donut, said, “Well, we can’t all wake up perfectly quaffed like you do, Bette.  Some of us look the part, if you know what I’m saying.

Bette: “Okay, get up!  Come onthis is getting ridiculous.  If I knew you were in this bad of shape, I would have intervened earlier.”

Alice threw the donut down onto the table, causing a thud that startled Bette.  “If you KNEWI was in this bad of shape.  I’m sorry, how many times have you seen me in the last seven months?”

Bette shrugged.  “I don’t know.  A lot”

“Go home, Bette,” Alice said, struggling to get up.  “I don’t need any help.  I’ll be just fine on my own”

Bette smirked at the sight of her.  “Oh yeah, you have everything under control I can tell.  Look, this is actually good; I can just start with you.”

Alice stopped.  “What do you mean start with me; and what did you want from me again?”

Bette walked over and ran her arm across the coffee table, sending everything on it crashing to the floor.

“Hey, I don’t come over to your house and make a mess”

Bette, looking around, said, “Oh please,” as she took a seat in the space she cleared.  Alice just shrugged.   “Now, I need you to listen to me, Alice, because this is important.  I need to clean out my karma house and I need your help to do it.”

Alice: “Oh, ha, I see.so you think by helping me you’ll somehow be rewarded for your effort.  That some miracle will happen and all will be right again in the house of Porter.  Well, let me tell you something, friendit doesn’t work that way.  You have to be clean of heart in order for that to happen, you know, pure intentioned.  It has to be genuine.  You can’t force the karma Gods into delivering the goods just because you took me to get my hair cut.   Alright, no what I’m saying here, Bette, it’s going to take a lot more than that.  You have to prepare.  I mean, like REALLY prepare.  It’ll take hours and hours alone just to make.”

Bette reached into her pocket and without breaking eye contact, snapped open her list.  Alice‘s jaw dropped with the trail of paper that now gathered around her pink – fur bunny slippers.

Alice: “Um, yeahthat uhthat pretty much should do the trick.  I’ll take a shower.”