My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "It's been quite some time since I heard music like that!" "Huh?" "The song you're listening to! I can hear it from your earbuds across the room. It's what the kids call a banger these days, no?" "Granny, please stop trying to be cool." "Oh, Branson - I don't have to try! Now, who's the band?" "Uh...they're not really that well known." "Please, honey. I've been to my fair share of underground punk and metal concerts!" "Granny." "It's true! I was always in the mosh pit." "Why am I not surprised...uh, they're called Switchblade. They're a local band." "Oh, my! Switchblade. Not a bad name, if I do say so myself." "Uh-huh." "You know any of the band members?" "Nah. My friends do, though." "Oh, how charming. I was very familiar with members of bands I listened to back in the day." ...

by Belinda Roddie "It's not a phase, Granny!" "Oh, it's not?" "No. Gawd." "Are you sure?" "You are so lame." "I'm just saying...you might have to spend a looooot of money on good eyeliner." "Ugh." "Or do you call it guyliner? I can't keep up sometimes." " Uuuuuugggghhhh." "And the spikes, dear! They look a teensy weensy bit sharp, don't they?" "They're edgy! Like me!" "Oh, Branny, darling...dressing up as a goth isn't edgy. Now being Gothic...that's an entirely different story." "Oh, no. Don't tell me." "Yes, sweetie. I liked to dress up as a classic Victorian vampire!" "...Of course you did. How am I not surprised?" "Our vampire galas were absolutely divine, Branson. I had a good friend named Doris whose husband had made an absolute fortune out of canned tuna. So we got invited to their mansion al...

by Belinda Roddie "It's only stealing when it's family, dear." "What?" "I said, it's only stealing when it's family!" "...I don't get it." "Oh, Branson, darling. Have you gotten enough sleep?" "Um. Chya. I slept from midnight to five PM." "Oh, good amount of snooze time, then. Well. I suppose I ought to explain?" "...Is this you getting back at me for stealing the last piece of pecan pie?" "Oh, heavens, no, Branson. That was up for grabs." "Okay, then what about the jar of change on your counter?" "Oh, you must have realized it was all arcade tokens, right?" "...Yeah, I did. That made me sad." "No, dear. I got that adage from my father-in-law! Your great-grandfather, Mortimer." "...I thought that was a made-up name." "Everything's made up, dear! But on to the story. Daddy Morty was a staunc...

by Belinda Roddie "Why does it smell like curry in here?" "What's that, dear?" " Ugh. I said why does it smell like curry in here, Granny! Gawd!" "Oh, sorry, Branson, sweetie. My hearing's not what it used to be." "Course it isn't. Jesus." "I don't smell anything. Are you sure you've had enough sleep?" "Uh. Yes. I slept for twelve fucking hours today." "Well. I haven't smelled curry since the day I smuggled it into the country, forty-five years ago." "...You smuggled curry?" "Oh, not just curry, dear! That was the ruse. There was cocaine hidden in the curry!" "...What." "Rock cocaine, specifically. In little baggies. Course, airport security's sure gotten tighter since, but we still wanted to be sneaky. So we had an Indian friend make a whoooole batch of curry, and we hid the baggies right in there!" "How the ...

by Arden Roddie & Belinda Roddie "Who the hell is Sheryl Bradley?" "What's that, Branson?" "Who. The hell. Is Sheryl Bradley?" "Oh, goodness me! Whatever made you think of that name?" "I was searching through your albums, bitch. 'Cause it's boring as shit staying here." "Oh, come now, dearie - did you see her picture?" "Uh...yeah? Sheryl Bradley is some bimbo with brown hair." " Was some bimbo with brown hair, Branson. You'd do well to remember that." "What?" "Let me see this album, please. Go fetch it from my room?" "Ugh. Fine." "...Ooh. Ooh, my. My, my, my." "What?" "Oh, Branson...the memories are flooding back." "What do you mean?" "Scary Sherry, dear! Now, those were the good days. I do miss her terribly." "...Yeah, uh, question still stands." "What quest...

by Belinda Roddie "Screw you, Granny! I'm gonna join a biker gang!" "Pardon, dearie?" "A biker gang! Gawd! I'm gonna join a biker gang and rip shit up, dude. So screw you." "Oh! Well, good for you, dear! I remember my days in a biker gang." "Er...what?" "Yes, indeed! Back in 1955, up to 1976. We ripped up the east coast like nobody's business. It was an all-woman's biker gang, too. We were called the Clits. Certainly difficult for the men to find us." "Um..." "Course, I suppose that's why Denise chose the name. I remember Denise. Tall and supple. Had the biggest, most beautiful breasts. Why, you could practically climb them like mountains. You might have even needed a sherpa. Not like Ella's ta-tas. Those were more molehills than Mount Everest. Shame, really - she did have quite a lovely face." "Uh, Granny?" "Boy, those were the days! Course, you co...