‘Hand over the lime.’
‘I don’t have hands.’
‘Then hook over the lime.’
‘It’s not a lime, it’s just a lemon I painted green.’
‘Then who has the lime?!’
Panic sloshed across their faces like green paint on a lemon and the Prime Minister and the Chief of Police dropped to the floor. The party continued to rage around them, strobe lights and grinding bodies. Somebody dropped the bass, but nobody picked it up again.
‘What are we going to do?’ said the Prime Minister.
‘Why did you paint a lemon green?’ said the Chief of Police.
‘Nobody was paying attention to me. I thought if I had the lime people would think I was cool.’
‘What’s cool about a deadly lime?’
‘What’s cool about smoking and leather jackets? Cool doesn’t make sense.’
‘Then maybe you’re cool after all.’
‘Thanks, that means a lot.’
‘It wasn’t a compliment.’
‘Well it sounded like one.’
‘I think we should stand up again.’
‘Because half a dozen people are dancing on my spine. It’s very painful.’
They stood up again.
‘Where does the lime come from, anyway?’ said the Prime Minister.
‘The Cold War. They loved making crazy stuff like that during the Cold War.’
‘Do you think if I dance like this people will think I’m cool?’
‘I think if you find the lime people will think you’re cool.’
‘Okay, but I’m going to dance like this at the same time.’ Dancing like this, the Prime Minister scanned the party. ‘What is a deadly Cold War lime doing at a party anyway?’
‘Limes love parties,’ said the Chief of Police.
‘I don’t think my lemon likes parties.’
‘Lemons prefer a relaxed environment, close friends sitting in bean bags listening to chilled beats.’
Suddenly, they saw the lime. In the hands of beautiful woman.
‘Hand over the lime!’ demanded the Chief of Police.
The woman froze.
‘Dude, what are you doing?’ said the lime.
‘We can’t let you kill everyone!’ said the Prime Minister.
‘Why would I kill anyone? I’m about to get laid,’ said the lime.
They looked to the beautiful woman. Her eyes said, ‘That’s broadly accurate.’ So did her words.
‘What about afterwards?’ said the Chief of Police.
‘I’ll get her number, but then I won’t call her,’ said the lime.
‘You’re not going to kill everyone?’
‘Wasn’t planning to.’
‘Well, alright then.’
The beautiful woman carried the lime upstairs.
‘Isn’t it weird how by using gender neutral nouns everyone just assumed we were men?’ said the Prime Minister.
The Chief of Police adjusted her breasts.