“Abylon hucks a glass over her shoulder, letting it shatter against the wall. You jerks have problems. I ain’t got problems, she argues, anger making her accent even coarser. Sister Suck-A-Lot an’ Baby Can’t-Hold-Her-Drink, a fine pair you two, she taunts, leaning forward, a bead of sweat running down her forehead as she winds up. Yeah, so my mom’s a slut and my sisters are just like her, so what? That ain’t me. I don’t need dat junk! she protests, rubbing her legs together under their leather wrappings. So there were a couple boys here and there, that’s normal! Who says it ain’t? It feels good inside me, but that don’t make me a baby-crazy bimbo like Mom! I can stop any time I want! Scylla nods, sympathetic to the outburst, but Pastie rocks back and forth in agony at the noise and dunks her head in the shot glass, swallowing as fast as she can.”
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