Concept: two girls in a fifties diner, with the kinda accents you only get if you’ve lived in Brooklyn all your life and take no nonsense from anybody.
One of them blows bubblegum obnoxiously in the other one’s face, the pink bubble bursting just short of her nose.
“Now you stop that, this here’s a respectable establishment.” The other girl protests, drawing a grin from bubblegum girl.
“Then heaven only knows what they’re doin’ lettin’ trouble like you in.” She smiles, swallowing the gum.
“Could say the same for you, baby doll.” Not bubblegum girl parries back, but there’s a smirk on her face. She takes a sip of the giant chocolate milkshake set between them. “You ever wonder what they think of us?” She asks, glancing around the room.
“Not for one second, I got you, and I ain’t bothered about the rest of ’em.”
“You gotta be a little bothered.”
“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.” Bubblegum girl says, and tangles her fingers inbetween the other girl’s. “Ain’t that what I say? If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. And I ain’t never lyin’ to you.”
“I worry, is all.”
Bubblegum girl squeezes her fingers tighter.
“Never got to worry. These losers, we’ll take ’em all, we’ll run this town one of these days. Or we’ll take off an’ never look back. Baby, we’re made from the stars and made for the stars. Why, I’d snub the moon if it meant lookin’ at your face one more night.”
“You’re a really sweetheart sometimes.”
“Don’t let my momma hear you say that, she’ll think I’ve gone soft.”
“But I know the truth.”