Amok Mama: Old friends who never read your blog

"How's Lucy?" she asks about a mutual friend of ours.

"I don't know," I admit, shamefacedly.

"You don't know?" she asks, totally, kind of like, shell-shocked.

"I haven't seen her in a year."

"You haven't seen her in a year?"

"Well, we kind of fell out."

"You guys fell out?"

"She fell out with me, anyway."

"She fell out with you? Why?"

"I kind of wrote a blog about something she'd said. But I changed her name and everything. I never thought she'd notice. And then she fell out with me."

My old friend sniffs, thoughtfully.

"See," she says. "That's why I never read your blog."

I squint at her sceptically. "When you say never," I say, totally suspicious, "do you mean like never, ever, ever NEVER?"

"Never," she says.

"What about when I called all Americans rapists? Or that one about sending Rico to private school? Or that one about Gwyneth Paltrow having her head in a box? You must read it sometimes."

"I never read it, ever," she says.

"Never, ever?"

"Never, ever, ever."

"Oh," I say.

"I've got this friend who reads it though. He really hates you."

"Is he American?" I ask.

"That's not why he hates you," she says.

"Why does he hate me then?" I ask.

She pauses. Then she says, melodramatically: "He thinks you make the quotes up."

I blink at her, like I've just stepped out into the sunlight after the Kino.

"Well, of course I make the quotes up," I say. "I have to think of something to write every week. And people – you know people – they're just not that fucking interesting. I have to make the quotes up a little bit. Hey, can I write my next blog about him thinking that I make quotes up?"

My old friend squeals.

"No!" she says. "You're not allowed to. Okay, Jacinta? Have a bit of fucking respect for once. No wonder Lucy doesn't speak to you anymore. You're a fucking monster."

But after she leaves, I can't help thinking: well, what the fuck. She never reads it anyways; she'll never find out.