Detta swung her foomfy pillows over the side and got up to face another day. Robert Crumb watched approvingly, setting the needle down on his morning Elmore
James selection (original, not remastered) before padding back to
bed. “The
Sky Is Crying” was all he had now, that and Detta’s thighs.
“Rad barrels, bro,” says Caleb, shaking droplets from his hair and holding aloft his longboard at Maverick's.
“Later,” says cousin Om, "Can’t hear you.” Eyes glomming onto the wenches ranged across the
sand.
“You always were a thigh bloke,” says Caleb. “When will you wake up to good old fashioned T and A?”
“Them’s my
father’s trip,” says Om. “I prefer the pillows.”