Lyttle Women

They are listening to music on the porch.

“How do I get this song off my damn playlist.”

Now I’m not a die-hard Kevin Lyttle fan either (that’s not even the joke; that’s what she was listening to), but then I wouldn’t put it on the playlist I was playing if I didn’t like it. The only songs on the iPod are probably the pre-loaded ones; I don’t know if they know they can put more on (they certainly don’t know how to take them off).

Another thing is how unnecessary the “damn” was. She said it as calmly as the rest of the sentence with no extra intonation whatsoever. She must be programmed to include some sort of vulgarity in each sentence like a drunk Shakespeare. Maybe I’m overthinking things: maybe that’s actually the title of the playlist. Her other playlists are "Fist-Cock," "Coke Ballads," "Gangbang Nostalgia," "Eternal PMS," "America," "Horse-Fucker," and "Beating My Kids Jams."