My Relapse, Part III

I tried not to let the fact that we were riding in a stolen floral delivery van bother me. Instead, I decided to enjoy the freedom away from the rehab center while I could. Plus it was hard not to be excited about getting to see some world class kickboxing.

But after a while I noticed that the route Bobby Brown was taking was leading us away from where the arena was. Being polite, I asked him if he was taking a shortcut.

"No, man, I don't know any shortcut," he said.

"But the arena is in the other direction," I said.

"What arena?"

"The arena where the kickboxing bout is."

"Kickboxing?"

"Yes."

"Are you a homo?"

"No," I said.

"Ad-Rock," Pat O'Brien said, slapping me on my knee. "Gotta fess up to you, homes: we're not going to the kickboxing bout."

"We're not?" I asked.

"No, bro. Sorry."

"Kickboxing!" Whitney Houston cackled from the back row. "My Bobby is the best kickboxing man ever!" Her mouth was full of pita chips.

"I loves you, baby!" Bobby Brown yelled to her.

"I loves you, baby!" Whitney Houston yelled back.

"Where are we going, then?" I asked.

"The zoo," Pat O'Brien said.

"The zoo?"

"Yeah," Bobby Brown said. "I got a cousin who works the night shift there. It's good shit."

"Oh," I said.

"I wanna see the crocodiles!" Whitney Houston screamed.

"All right, baby, Bobby's gonna take you to see the crocs!" Bobby yelled back to her.

"Crocs are wack!" Pat O'Brien shouted.

"Crocs are wack!" Whitney Houston shouted.

"Crocs are wack!" They shouted in unison.