Divergent Parody: Avirgent by Maurice Hill, Michelle Hunt Page B

right?”
    Christine folded her arms. “Right.”
    “Yeah well, it's bullshit. Who's gonna give a fuck if people remember their name or not once their dead? Huh? Once it all goes black that's it! No memories, no conscious, no nothing. Just black!”
    “Yeah, but-”
    “Wait, let me finish. Cutting me off? Come on Chriss-y ba-by! Sweety, don't cut me off.”
    Christine mouthed, “Chriss-y?” at me and Al continued on. “Then there's this whole 'being proud of what you make,' deal you got. You want to know what I'm proud of?”
    “What? Your hair-grease?”
     
     
    Al chuckled. “Heh, good one. Good one. But no, I'm most proud of how much money I make a year. Now I can't get into actual figures but let's just say that thanks to Joey Two-Tone, I'm like that Trump guy from years back. Heh.”
     Christine narrowed her brows. “Don't get me wrong Al, you're cool, but that's a very vain way to look at things. Money isn't everything. I'll take quality and competence over that any-day.”
    Al chuckled and smacked his hands together, “Then I guess we know who's ending up a working class citizen! Hey Christine, how about you do me and everyone a favor and a uh...get off the horse's dick here.”
    “What?!” yelled Christine.
    I saw TB4 march out of a booth, panting, gripping his shirt tight in his hands. His face was dripping  with sweat, and so was his hands. Hailey hid behind a counter. “What the Hell's going on?!”
     Christine and Al looked at TB4, and Christine shrugged. “Nothing sir. Nothing.”
    TB4 looked around at us and said, “So you guys are finished?”
    “Yeah,” said Al, his voice grave, whatever a grave voice is.
    TB4 looked between them again and said, “I'll be finished in a couple of minutes.”
    “I thought you didn't believe in tattoos?” said Al sarcastically.
     TB4 didn't respond and went back behind his curtain. I didn't notice any tattoo marks on him. I wonder what he was doing.
     “Heh,” Al wagged his thumb at TB4's booth and whispered to us, “I see places like this always hand out happy endings.”
    That got a chuckle out of Christine, and Al patted her on the back. It was as if their argument never happened. “Am I right, or am I right?”
    She laughed loud, but I didn't get the joke. “What happened? What do you mean?”
    Al and Christine stared at me like I was some alien from a foreign planet.
    Al said, “Come on Mika, how old are you?”
    “16.”
    He took his hand off of Christine's back and patted me on the shoulder.
     “16 years on this planet, four of them a teen...and you don't know what the term 'happy ending,' means?”
    I shook my head. “It's not anything like a book having a happy ending right?”
    “Hell no. This is something much different. And if you don't know, I envy you. I wish I still had some innocence left, but the world made me grow up so fast.”
    “So what is a happy ending?”
     He waved his hand, and stood up straight. “Don't worry 'bout it.”
    He looked at Christine. “Hey listen Chrissy, you got your thing, and I got mine. I'm not apologizing for what I believe in, ya know?”
    She sighed. “Yeah, same here. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree, but I want to hear Mika's thoughts.”
    “What?”
    She opened her eyes wide. “Remember? Production or Consumption? Should society start producing their own memory to leave behind, or revel in the ones people leave for them? You know, just using their money to exist and entertain themselves, rather than live.”
    Al sucked his teeth. “You can still live with just money.”
    “I'm not talking whores, drugs, amusement parks, and partying. I'm talking about leaving a legacy behind. So Mika, what do you think?”
     They both looked at me this time as if I were some old monk that knew the answers to the universe, and they were my congregation. I didn't know or care. I just wanted to know what a happy ending was, but I had an idea, and if what I thought was true, then I must make