a strange man with long hair, uncouth beard, and willie mustache. unrecognizable. it's Boehner. he wears his polkadot bandana under his jeans shorts as a belt. he has Paul Ryan with him. they commiserate over an untapped keg of beer on its side.
Boehner: well young buck, you thought it would be easy to eliminate welfare. your college dream has been shattered. how do you feel?
P Ryan: relieved. i can finally get that haircut to fix my crow's nest. make my hair presentable when i visit my wife and kids.
Boehner: don't relieve yourself on me. little hard when you hold that Gavel like a croquet mallet, huh? this isn't exactly the cheap farm beer you envisioned with Wisconsin cheese, but it's better. take a swig.
P Ryan instantly gets high. he is too stoned to cough.
Boehner: i never knew there was green in green. I LOVE POT. you see this bong here that Paul used? it's simply my usual whiskey bottle, rejiggered. i call it the Boehner bong.
Fed: the loveliest shade of green is matcha.
Molly Qerim in yellow: the worst part about Michigan not winning it all is we had to come home early, i had no excuse to stay over here in the wild west. our Final Four was halved. i had to return to the dregs of my job with that knucklehead.
Jalen Rose: i must have done something right in my life to land you. i guess i had an extra foul in my backpocket after all.
a small school from Baltimore wins the tournament. but no one cares. it gets swamped in the ratings not with the Masters but with the Country Music Awards, for the first time in history.
Molly: *addressing the narrator* no messages, just fun. more a past life. yes, but The Boys From Balty got a win at night.
Kenan Thompson: i am the patriarch of the Ball family. never lost.
Breanna Stewart in her evening makeup: yeah actually I never lost.
Kenan: woah! you are a tall drink of water. that's never said of a woman. you are my amazon queen. with a gummy mouth, my perfect woman! lay it on me, Bre, tell me how wrong i am.
Canelo takes a bite from a McDonald's hamburger of Siberian deermeat. Putin looks on with glee in his teeth. Canelo's red hair starts to fall out.
Grayson Allen clings to the cord of his room phone. his eyes are dreary and loose after the loss. the walls seem to be thin everywhere cos he swears he can hear his coach's ghost from beyond the grave.
Grayson: i'm gonna do it.
Coach K: now Grayson, we talked about this. all year. i'm speaking mannerly. you are a very sick person. you have the sickest shot i've ever seen. you missed the bunny which would have advanced us. Duke Nation is forgiving, it took Laettner decades to achieve the hate Patrick Reed engenders now. you go through these mood swings. ups and downs. that's called life. the life of the bipolars of the Earth's crust. don't be rash and erratic.
Grayson: i'm gonna do it. i'm gonna run away and never come back. in fact i just did it. you'll never locate my location. you'll never find me.
Coach K: now Grayson, i'm speaking to you as your Army buddy. you had that tip-in. if you just tipped the ball in the basket things would have been different. for all of us. just the tip, remember what i always teach you boys? i now do one-and-dones but you are not done, you are my one. forever family. now i'm coming in, okay? i'm in the room next door.
Bump positions Budden like an erect ragdoll with his hands to the center of his harsh orange room. he makes her stand on the spot meekly while he turns around, he gathers himself for his permanent performance. he turns cruelly back around and with bloodshot eyes and foaming mouth and a shade side he delivers the blow of death:
Bump: YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU'RRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE FIIIIIIIIIIRRRREEEDDD!!!!
his hair gets out of place for the first time ever. his finger wags at her face so hard she bites it. she holds the glass jar with butterflies in it above her head as a shounen girl would do.
Budden: i'm not that kind of girl. i should be paying you for that. can i go now?
Bump: yes, like i said. thank you. i was hot but now i'm cool. it's just it's been a long time since i've actually said those words out loud in an open setting. feels good. the acoustics in here are malapropriately magnificent.
at the far-off last room on the floor sit Gladyce and Doryce holding hands together on the bed jumping on the bed with their butts.
Doryce: you know Kathy Griffin could always get a job doing that spokeswoman for that pill or whatever. you know that redhead i see on tv in the full pink bodysuit like she's the inside of the body? does a funny dance and cock-blocks the woman who's trying to have anniversary relations with her husband? thinks she's funny.
Gladyce: i thought that was Kathy Grifin. i remember when the inside of a body was a man. or am i thinking of that blue fairy who does the toilet paper? why did they change the blue lady? i am blue over this.
Doryce: and where is that kaiju kuseum museum that was promised us that's supposed to be around here? that video-game museum with no doors. do they have early-bird tours? Bama must be there!
the lights come back on. they are restored and recovered. but not before all of these stories are told.
Chrissie: wow. there's so much activity on this level! stories on this storey. all of these mini-dramas seem to be focused on this floor. i wonder why.
Li Na knocks on Chrissie's forehead. she giggles like a schoolgirl but doesn't cover her mouth. she speaks English forcefully. she has Nishikori under the gray puffy covers of her bed in the open-doored room across the way opposite. she giggles again. she has a flower in her mouth.
Li: oh yes. everyone's here. have you tried the new rooms? but i bet you're missing one very important guest at the moment. he's staying in R111. check your mentions.
Li tries to bow her mini-bellhop hat on top of her square head but it's fastened on by the chinstrap like a McDonald's birthday hat.
Li: i kissed Nishikori in the mouth one time and it was so magic it corrected all of his crooked teeth, heehee.
R111 is the one door that's closed at the moment. Chrissie checks her email. under the spam heading reads Tokyo tryst? Rome rendezvous?
Chrissie clicks.
the caption your cute is over a picture which slowly downloads like slatted blinds. of Nadal. in his den. sitting on a chair. naked. eating a banana.
THE LATE PHOENIX: I WANTED TO BE FAMOUS. INSTEAD, I HAVE THIS BLOG.
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