Black Mamba: Yeah, sure.
(This Pasasdena homemaker’s name is Jeanne Bell. Her husband is Dr. Lawrence Bell. But back when we were acquainted, four years ago, her name is Vernita GREen. Her code name was Copperhead. Mine, Black Mamba.)
Black Mamba: Do you have a towel?
Vernita: Yeah.
Black Mamba: Thanks.
Vernita: So you still take cream and sugar, right?
Black Mamba: Yeah.
Vernita: So I suppose it’s a little late for an apology.
Black Mamba: You suppose correctly.
Vernita: Look, bitch, I need to know if you’re gonna start more shit around my baby girl.
Black Mamba: You can relax for now. I’m not gonna murder you in front of your child, okay?
Vernita: That’s being more rational than Bill led me to believe you were capable of.
Black Mamba: It’s mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality.
Vernita: Look, I know I fucked you over. I fucked you over bad. I wish to God I hadn’t, but I did. You have every right to want to get even.
Black Mamba: No, no, no, no, no. No. To get even, even Stephen. I would have to kill you, go up to Nikki’s room, kill her, then wait for your husband, good Dr. Bell to come home and kill him. That would be even, Vernita. That’d be about square.
Vernita: Look, if I could go back in a machine, I would. But I can’t. All I can tell you is that I’m a different person now.
Black Mamba: Oh, GREat... I don’t care.
