Tammy Woo tapped in the last few dots to Rodo’s new tattoo. He was stoked. He stamped the floor with his big flat feet, jangled the joints of his gangling limbs.
‘Does it look cool?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ she said, tidying the needle back into the sewing box.
‘Real cool? Like Robert De Niro cool? You know, like, in Taxi Driver?’
‘What?’ Tammy Woo caught her bubble gum in her molars, she’d've choked if she hadn’t.
‘No, I know.’ Rodo sprayed spit on to his own chin. ‘Is it cool like Nicholson cool? You know, like, “Heeeeere’s Johnneee”. That kinda cool?’
‘What the fuck, Rodo?’
‘No, no.’ Rodo bounced, stressing the bolts in the little Ikea desk chair. ‘Is it Harrison Ford cool? You know, like Han Solo? Or Indiana?’
Tammy Woo stared. ‘What colour is the sky where you live, Rodo?’
His face faded a few shades lighter. ‘Like, Dr Walker in Frantic cool?’
‘Fuck you, Rodo.’ Tammy Woo threw the broken biro into the basket. ‘It’s like, like … I dunno…’ She shrugged. ‘Like Lurch cool, I guess. Look.’
Tammy Woo showed him the little make-up mirror. Rodo looked, angled it to the letters on his forehead. He saw: odor.
‘What the fuck?’ cried Rodo. ‘That’s not my fucking name.’
Tammy Woo sighed, decided she was going to start asking for the money upfront.
Story inspired by the 3WW words: frantic, lurch and odor.