Eating Bing cherries I bought for a dollar a bag on the Petaluma Hill roadside. They are sweet and firm and perfect for this weather. I’m listening to the music coming from the 4th of July fairgrounds band sets. I have a perfect view of the fireworks tonight outside my upstairs apartment. The band is currently playing “Beat It.” The neighbors downstairs are BBQing and squirting each other with orange plastic squirt guns. One of the ladies seated directly below my window (her outside patio is below me) is singing along to the music from the fair. She just keeps saying “Beat it, Beat it” over and over with no tune or melody, just the words, “beat it, beat it…”
The youngest teen girl keeps shrieking every time the water hits her hair from one of her brother’s guns. I’m tempted to scream, “IT’S JUST WATER, YOU ARE MAKING MY EARS BLEED!” But I don’t want them to hate me. Even though I would be some mysterious voice booming from a window above. That girl has a future in scream work.