No Sense At All

by Husker Du played out of a ghetto blaster that had a slice of duct tape holding the cassette door closed. It sat on the stonework that lead from the brownstone apartment stairs, down to the street. Various shady characters lounged on the steps in wife-beaters.

Friday sauntered by, in a white linen suit, followed by the Weekdays. It was one of those warm kinda' evenings - made for sauntering.

Monday said, "I've always loved the words "ghetto blaster."
Tuesday said, "Owning something is really only proximity to an object in space."
Wednesday said, "Elvis is King."
Thursday said, "My bank account always looks bad in April."
Friday finished, "It seems like weeks since I've heard an original line."

"We could all grow moustaches!" Says Wednesday hopefully.
"Or...we could have a bicept building competition!" Helps Monday, flexing his arm.
"Disguise-off?" Adds Tuesday.
"Why not just see who can bake the best pie..." Thursday adds snidely.

Friday turned around and barged through the Weekdays, and back down the street. At the stoop of the brownstone (the ghetto blaster was now playing Cellophane by Knapsack.) Friday spoke in a rich baritone to the shady stoop-dwellers.
"If I might ask, what are you doing tonight?"

One stood up, and fished out a switchblade from his pocket. He flicked the blade out, and held it near Friday's cheek.
"What's it to you man!" He said as defensively as a man with a threatening switchblade might possibly say it.
"I was just wondering." Said Friday. The weekdays, having turned and followed, stood aghast, afraid any action might actually endanger the life of the King of All Weekdays.
"Who told you - you could fucking wonder about us!"
"Nobody." Said Friday with calm and humility. "I'm just tired of hearing the same old thing, and wanted something new. I thought you might possibly have something along those lines."

The ghetto blaster began playing Lali Puna, and the shady guy with the switchblade relaxed a little.

"It's Cinco De Mayo, we're going to make margaritas, and drink 'em out of Atlas Mason jars." The shady guy realized he'd slipped into Friday's charm for a moment, and exclaimed, "So what's it to ya!?"

Friday responded evenly.
"If I got a mess of tequila, could we join you? Sounds like fun."

The shady character dropped the knife a bit, and made small quotation marks with his hands when he said,
"How much is a "mess?"
"How much do you want it to be." Said Friday, "A case? Four cases? A truck?"

The shady character looked back to his companions on the stoop. They shot unfathomable looks back at him.

"Yeah, okay...a truck's cool."

"All right then. Let's make that happen. Allow me to introduce myself...I'm Friday."

Happy Friday