“You want what?”

            “Your firstborn, Bette. I came to get your daughter.”

            “Jenny. You’re fucking crazy.”

            “Well, I am crazy. And I am fucking Tina. So that makes me like the girl’s other mother.”

            “It makes you nothing of the sort.” Bette tried to close the door, but Adele dove into the doorframe making this impossible.

            Adele gave a little ‘oof’ as Jenny stepped upon her and entered the house. “So, where’s my kid.”

            “She’s not your anything, Jenny. Now please, just go.”

            “But I want her.” Jenny stamped her foot. “I want a child.”

            “We’re not discussing this, Jenny.”

            “But we are, Bette. Right now, we’re having a discussion.”

            “Jenny, leave.”

            “Can’t you see that I ‘m the right person to take care of little Amanda?”

            “No.”

            “But I do so well with dogs and other small things. Only one of my dogs died, and it was going to die, anyway.”

            “Actually, Jenny,” Adele interrupted.

            “What?”

            “Sounder ran away three weeks ago.”

            Jenny was confused. “Who?”

            “Your dog.” At the blank look, Adele continued. “Sounder. Ran away. No more.”

            “Oh.” Jenny shrugged. “I guess I really do need a kid, then. So, Bette, where’s little Angelinajolie?”

            “I’m going to call the police, Jenny.”

            “Tina will be so surprised.”

            “I’m going to have Tina committed.”

            “You can’t do that, Bette.” Jenny started to pout. “If I didn’t have Tina, who would I play ‘Bev and Nina’ with?”

            Adele started to raise her hand, but then, off Bette’s glare, hid it behind her back, instead.

            Bette raised an eyebrow. “What?”

            “’Bev and Nina.’ You know, the beautiful, talented but set for destruction couple that I created in my original masterwork, Lez Girls.”

            “I’m going to ask for a double psychiatric hold.” Then Bette looked at Adele. “Maybe a triple.”

            “Bette, I am an artiste. You of all people should understand that.”

            “You are not an artiste, Jenny.”

            “But I am.” Jenny stomped her foot for emphasis, followed by Adele also stomping her foot for no good reason whatsoever.

            “And Bette?”

            “What?”

            “You like fucking artistes, don’t you.”

            Bette gripped her story. “I think I’m going to be ill.”

            “But I’m fucking Tina, which is sort of like fucking you, once removed. Maybe we should just remove the middle woman.”

            “Oh, I’ll suggest something that should be removed, Jenny.”

            “I’m sure whatever suggestion you might have won’t compare to the suggestions that Tina makes as we discover the ways of the manatee at the carnival.”

            “Out, Jenny,” Bette ordered, pointing towards the door. “And take your little, ‘whatever’, too,” including Adele in the pronouncement.

            Jenny gave another pout. “Maybe I should just get one of those African kids. They’re all the rage these days.” And she headed out, Adele trailing after and nodding agreement.

            Bette sat down, relieved. She didn’t want to explain that no one had seen Angelica in weeks. Between her partying and Tina’s sleeping around, they’d sort of lost track of the kid somewhere.

            She was sure they’d find her daughter eventually. After all, this happened from time to time.

            Anyway, thinking about where Angelica might be was a lot better than thinking about Tina fucking Jenny. Although that thought did give Bette an idea.

And so, my kind, gentle readers, I leave you again to imagine thoughts of Bette, thoughts of Jenny fucking Tina, and thoughts of Angelica working her way across country as a ninja or maybe a pirate to find her way to her maternal grandparents, the wolves wot raised Tina.