Going to, acronym to,

just a single guy.

Zing, zing-a-ding-ding,

zing, zing-a-ding.

Zing a ding-ding-ding,

zing a guy, acronym,

just to sing a guy,

zinger, hello, bye, guys.

Zinger Burger Vincent,

where are you?

I have to know,

I can’t.

Vincent, listen—

I won’t judge you

the way everyone else does.

You’re strange and beautiful,

sensitive.

Now let’s have a look at you,

take it slow,

let it breathe.

Can you bring me a few things

from the store?

I haven’t been out

in a while.

Two o’clock—

Mr. Shelbach had a tennis lesson,

he’s gone for the day.

Okay, what do we got here?

Vodka.

Cigarettes.

Fireworks.

You think this is appropriate

for a fifteen-year-old?

You’re a sick woman—

but no,

but yeah,

but no,

but yeah.

But what?

But who?

But no,

but yeah,

but no context.

This reminds me of a time

that needed far more explaining,

halfway through,

seen that anyone could be bothered

to explain,

and the scene just continues

with a star wipe.

Human.

Human coughing in the background,

laughing ensues,

rhythmically.

SO HOT RIGHT NOW BEHOLD!

BLUE HARD-GROOVE STEEL!!

Elliptical tropic techno,

mombahton groove…

elliptical tropic techno,

mombahton groove…