You’re out of the car, I’m afraid you’ve been declined
You shake my hand while you’re pissing on my leg
“Are you playing that stupid Social Distortion song again?” Chloe calls from outside the bathroom, for what seems like the thousandth time.
From behind the bathroom door, Roge ignores her again, for what seems like the thousandth time.
“Why are you doing this?” she says, her voice fluttering somewhere between bored and irritated.
Roge can hear that edge in her voice, especially through the hollow-core bathroom door, which he has found to be a rather effective conductor of anger. He takes a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just getting ready for work.”
“You play this fucking song every morning is what you’re doing.”