Once they were in the oven, we went out to the icy porch to smoke.In the early evening dark, lit awkwardly by a streetlamp and the moon, we sat side-b...-side on the porch swing. Our breath mingled in clouds in front of us as we huddled to pass the joint, laughing about whatever we laughed about.Finally, Shelly took a long sigh and saying how lonely she was without a boyfriend, how cold her bed was going to be tonight. She meant it in an “oh don't you hate it when” sort of way, but I popped out. The soprano, she thinks that the meat, it will hurt her, how you say, ah the vocal-a chords. She thinks it will keep her from-a getting the big-a breath. Sopranos! They all are-a crazy! The meat is-a good, it-a sustains the body for the big-a arias!"We all laughed, and Lou's giggle was like a bell above our male guffaws. Il Tenore leaned in close to Lou. "Tell-a me, bella: are you a soprano? I hope-a not, because it would-a mean you are-a crazy, too!"Lou laughed, again. "No, no, Signor. More

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