<When we spoke on the phone earlier.> This is Mrs F talking. <That wasnt like you, dear. You were so short with me. Im an old lady without much to do so Ive been dwelling on it all day. And the conclusion I came to was that you havent sounded happy in a long time. In fact, I think its been getting worse. Am I imagining it? Oh, I know its no business of mine. I know I can be a busybody. Believe me, I hear it from Roy all the time. Perhaps Ive doted on you for too long. Youre not a child, of course, you can take care of yourself. If you feel Ive overstepped my boundaries here, feel free to tell me off. Go ahead, give me a piece of your mind. It wouldnt be the first time I hear it and wont be the last, I can promise you that.>

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This lady. This old white lady here. That visits Yellow Street in the dark like it isnt a thing. That talks to Robbie like hes not fat and pimply. Like he doesnt sweat gross. Like hes not a freak the whole town hopes just crawls off and dies. Is something broke with her little round glasses? Has her brain alzheimered? Man, I dont know, but next thing the crazy old nice bitch does is put her knuckly old lady hand around Robbies bicep.

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Whys she got to touch him and make things humiliating? How many times did Robbie use his pullup bar to muscle out some a that flab? It didnt work. Isnt ever gonna work either. Robbies gonna be fat dumb Robbie forever. All a us gonna be all a us forever. No old lady no matter how friendly she is has special powers to change none a those unfortunate facts. Mrs F digs in her claws, though, and she tries. Dang if she doesnt try good.

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<People around here give you a raw deal for what you did to that coach. It wasnt fair then and its not fair now. I am positive, in my heart, that you had your reasons. I dont even need to know what those reasons were. You are not a violent person, Robbie. You just feel things very deeply.>

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Mrs F moves her hand to where Robbies neck lards fatted out over his pimp collar. Mrs F blinks and blinks and her eyes are shining.

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