Lady Balls and Balls woke up the next morning slightly tired. They had stayed up late trying to figure out one good deed that tWBS could do that would not hurt anyone and were coming up blank.  Their brains were so taxed with the effort that they didn’t even bother to get frisky.  At some point, they just passed out.

After a quick shower (in which they DID get frisky), they decided to get Sunday Brunch.

“Any place in particular you want to go?”, Lady Balls asked.

“Well, if we want to talk to the baboso again, I’m thinking we should head out somewhere on the Westside.  He always loved that part of town.”

“Ugh.  I hate fucking hipsters!”

“I know.  Me too.  But it’s for the dumbass.”

“You know I hate spending $20 on a plate of ham and eggs, right?”

“Tell me about it! This dumbass is costing us money left and right.  We need to figure out a solution real quick.  Otherwise, Europe is going to turn into Hawaii.”

“Oh no, we’re still going to Europe.  Fuck him.”

Balls was scanning his phone looking for a brunch place in the Venice area.  “Yes, baby.  Hey, what about this place?”  He showed her his phone.

“Okay, but I reserve the right to knock the trilby off of somebody’s ass.”

The drive west was surprisingly smooth with only minimal traffic around Crenshaw.  Once they passed Robertson, it was smooth sailing all the way to the beach.  They turned south on Lincoln and then west on Venice.  Parking was a bitch, as was to be expected, and they hiked the quarter mile to the restaurant.

The girl manning the counter was as flat as a board.  She had two nose rings, a neck tattoo that said “Bicth” and both her earlobes had expanders.  This was not a good sign.

“How many?”

Lady Balls looked behind her and, seeing no one besides Balls, replied in an annoyed voice, “Two.”

“It will be about forty-five minutes. If you give me your cell phone number, we can text you when the table is ready.”

“Seriously?  I see three empty tables right there.”

“I’m sorry.  That section is closed.  We are short-staffed today. One of our waitresses called out today.”

Balls and Lady Balls exchanged looks.

Lady Balls sighed and gave the girl her number. The two then walked away from the counter.

“What do you think the odds of that waitress having big tits is?”

“Even money.  Wait, today is Sunday.  Do you think maybe there’s a rule about him not being able to appear on Sundays?”

“Quien sabe.  Let’s go walk around.  The patchouli smell is killing me.”

The couple walked east with Balls’ hand on Lady Balls’ ass and her arm around his shoulder. They passed a tattoo parlor, then a coffee shop, and then a pot shop.  A couple of seconds after they passed the pot shop, Balls pulled on Lady Balls’ ass and spun her around so she faced him.

“Hi!  What’s up?”

Their faces were inches apart.  Balls kissed her.

“I just thought of something.”

Lady Balls looked around, “Okay, I like where you are going with this.  Maybe over there behind the trash cans?”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking.  The dumbass hooked up with a pot clerk when he was out here.  Maybe he is inside her and she is inside this pot shop?”

“Do you know how many pot shops exist in Venice alone?”

“Yeah, but the thought just popped into my head.  That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Fuck it, let’s try it.  It’s not like I’m getting any behind trash cans.”

“Hey!  My baby deserves better than trash cans!  Maybe we’ll find a cargo container later.”

The couple walked into the shop and the smell hit them as soon as they walked in.  Neither smoked nor partook, so the smell wasn’t particularly pleasant but for a seasoned smoker, this would have been a sign that this was a quality shop.  The prices reflected that.  A buxom black girl stood behind the counter.  Her eyes were bloodshot.  She was in the middle of putting some Visine in them when they approached the counter.

“I’ll be right with you.  I’m sorry, I just got here and I’m still trying to get myself ready.”

She reached down to the counter, grabbed a name tag, and put it on top of her left breast. It said, “Asia”.

“No fucking way!”

Lady Balls looked at Balls quizzically.

Balls whispered to her, “The girl that tWBS hooked up with was named Asia!”

Lady Balls whispered back, “You think it’s the same girl?”

“How many black chicks do you think are named ‘Asia’?”

“True.  Ask her if she’s had any out of body experiences lately.”

“Yeah, it would be like him to inhabit her body.  If anything, to play with her private parts one more time.”

Balls turned towards the pot clerk.  “Excuse me, miss, this is going to seem like a really weird and awkward question, but I’m gonna ask it anyway.  Have you ever met a guy from North Carolina, went by tWBS, spoke in a Southern drawl, kinda charming in a dumbass kinda way?”

The girl’s eyes opened wide. “My Southern Gentleman!  He and I had big plans!  Do you know him?  Do you know what happened to him?  One day, I was getting texts from him and then nothing!”

“Um, okay this is REALLY awkward.  He died.”

The girl’s face fell.  She wiped at her eyes.  “Figures.  Just my luck.  Do you know what happened?”

Balls didn’t really want to go into details.

“Health problems.  It happened suddenly.”

“Oh.”  The girl was far away, deep in her sadness and her thoughts.

Lady Balls poked Balls in the ribs.

“I’m sorry to bother you once more.  I just have one more question.  Have you had any out-of-body experiences lately?”

Asia looked up, composed herself, and pointed at a sample in the counter.  “This one right here will have you seeing God.”

Lady Balls chimed in, “Can it help us bargain with Saint Peter to let an idiot into Heaven?”

Asia looked confused, “What?”

Balls stepped in, “Never mind.  So, no weird experiences?  No time you can’t account for?”

“Sir, I work in a pot shop and I smoke five times a day.”

“Stupid question.  We’ll get out of your hair.  Sorry to bother you.”

Lady Balls and Balls walked out.

Lady Balls laughed, “That really was a stupid question.  She probably won’t remember the conversation we just had in five minutes.”

“Yeah, but what now?”

“Fuck brunch.  Is there a Taco Bell nearby? We still have fifteen minutes until they stop serving breakfast.”

“Yes, baby!”

***

Lady Balls’ cell phone buzzed when they were passing DTLA.  She swiped the notification away.  “Our table is ready!”

Balls took his eyes off the road to look at her, “Do you want to text them back and tell them we changed our minds?”

“They are hipsters.  They deserve none of our politeness. I’m still a little bummed I didn’t get to kick some hipster ass.”

“Baby, you know what happened last time.”

“I didn’t think he was going to cry!  What grown adult fucking cries?!?”

“I have to say, I was pretty proud of you for that one!  At least we got out of there before the cops showed up.”

“What were they going to charge me with?  Taking sand out of a guy’s vagina?”

“I think there’s actually a law that says you can’t move sand out of California beaches.”

“Seriously? This state is so fucked. So fucking over-regulated.  Pretty soon they’re going to dictate how I can and cannot dispose of my used tampons. I can’t wait until you retire and we get the fuck out.”

“People on the internet will pay good money for those.”

“Yeah, but there’s probably a law saying I have to label it organic or some shit.  No hormones added.”

“I bet you we still get a few takers.”

“Probably, there’s desperate people everywhere.”  Lady Balls thought for a bit.  Suddenly, a light bulb figuratively lit up above her head.

“Maybe that’s how we save the baboso!”

“By selling your used tampons?”

“No, but let’s research that to see if it can be done.  I’m thinking we can use the baboso to help someone that is desperate.”

“Ooookay. Care to elaborate?”

“Remember my amiga that is all depressed?”

Balls laughed, “Which one?”

“The one that just broke up with her boyfriend!”

Balls laughed some more, “Again, which one?”

“The one that lives out of her van and just had her shit stolen!”

Balls was laughing out loud now, “Again, which one?!?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“You love it.  Okay, I think I know who or what you are talking about.  How is the baboso going to help her out?”

“So, she told me the other day that she is swearing off men forever.  But she’s really sad and lonely.”

“Okay.  But tWBS is a ghost.  Sort of, I guess?  Either way, I don’t see how he can help her out.”

“What if he inhabits a hot lesbian, hooks up with my amiga, gives her an experience she won’t forget, and gets her spirits up?”

“We are placing all his hopes and dreams of getting into Heaven on his ability to make a woman happy?”

“Shit.  Okay, let me think about it some more…”