Chapter One:

Fiona: Sometimes we think that the constant ups and downs and the loops and hoops are exclusive to ourselves alone.

I think we are all on the same rollercoaster and the only difference is the cart you’re in and everyone is tall enough to ride…

Chaz: Where did you learn to be so wise?

Fiona: If I were so wise, the person in the driver's seat presently wouldn’t be a tranny…

Fiona: …

Fiona: Wisdom is trying to not be foolish rather than trying to be clever, and being aware enough to observe that everyone tries...or some junk

Chaz: I want to know everything you know…Can you teach me how to play guitar like you?

Fiona: You’re already better at it than I am.

Chaz: No way! You’ve spent your whole life doing it. things, like… things like chasing your dreams and I’m… I wish I had done that but. I’m not jealous or anything… but I wish I…

Fiona: It's not too late to start. I have an aunt who just got her first period, god rest her soul. Everyone imagines having done different things, I’d suppose. Get the fuck out of my lane… fucking Lyft drivers! I Guarantee that guy imagines this alot. Prick! Do you remember which ones the middle finger?

Chuck: Third from your thumb. Third from your pinky.

Fiona: Great. Now the thumbs a finger.

Fiona: Regardless…

Fiona: I would have done basically the opposite of what I have achieved in whatever this shit around all our faces is.

Chaz: Like what?

Fiona: I’d rather have been like her.

Chaz: Like who. 

Fiona: The lady pushing the stroller we just passed. Don’t hurt your neck, sweetie. She was a mother with a baby - is the point.

Fiona: If you had kids would you want a boy or a girl?

Chaz:. Look! We will never be together. I have to draw a line somewhere.

Fiona: You’ve drawn that line in the sand several times; so many, that it’s beginning to resemble a pit. I told you that I’m okay with being friends only. It sort of hurts my feelings that you keep reminding me of this in the sense that you make me think that you see me as guileful or deceptive. Like I’m a depraved pariah just because I am transgender; panhandling on Pico at day and haunting alleyways on Alvarado by night. I don’t expect anything of anyone or of anything. Expectations in this world is like racing butterflies and placing wagers on the winner.

Fiona: Anyway, that’s the one thing I don’t regret in all the dream chasing, having tits and stuff. 

Chaz: Hahaha.

Fiona: The pictures of myself on the husk of my FaceBook that now resembles Chernobyl, only more radioactive. The .gifs of dude me on stage at sold-out clubs, alongside C- celbs and D+ porn stars . The videos of me at book signings. That clip of me winning a poetry award and electing to tell the lore of the Man From Nantucket, instead of the poem that won, when I received the thrifty, fools-gold plated trophy that was in the shape of something I never learned about in geometry . The reel of fake me, playing the P.C-Herien roles in Target ads; blowing a rape-whistle at a white male coworker for asking an obviously Asian female colleague what kind of Asian she is; and all the other blah blah who gives a Mormons-gooch-about-shit I’ve did. If you knew the moments that strung these “achievements” all together, you’d probably have less dejection about not following those staggered footprints, as they were each placed within a frozen blizzard over sheets of well-trodden ice.

Chaz: Tell me.

Fiona: I suppose that most of the discourse of my life stems from a single line I drew in the sand on a beach that I can no longer recall. I also don’t recall exactly if I was even the one who drew it.

Chapter Two

Shannon: How come you never wanna to do any boy’s stuff, Finny?

Finn: I dunno. 

Shannon: Let’s pway WWC! I’ll be the Ondertakaw and you be Mankine, cuz he’s funny like you Funny Finny.

Maddy: You two get out of the mud! I swear, Shannon! I just bought you that dress. 

Finn: I’m...I’m sorry Missus K. I didn’t mean t-

Maddy: Shh...Shh. Finny. Don’t cry angel. If I know my daughter at all, I know that she started it. Oh sweetie. There, there. Let’s get you two back and get you into dry clothes. 

Shannon: One small step for Finny, one giant leaf for Shannon-kind!

Finn: Missus K? These clothes are really big.

Mady: That’s because Todd is in second grade and he's grown for twice as long as you’ve been alive. Go run along and ask Todd for a turn on the Sega sweetie, I have to give your troublemaker friend a bath and a spanking. 

Finn: Okay Missus K.

Mady: Who is it?

Mady: Finny. You are supposed to wait for someone to let you in after you knock or there would be no point in knocking.

Finn: But I'm hungry ma’am.

Mady: Todd, can you grab a GoGurt and string-cheese for Finny, sweetie?

Todd: Last die mom.

Mady: Todd!

Todd: Awe! Mommmmm! That was my last life! Fine. 

Mady: Run along Finny. Go get a sna… what’s the matter sweetie?

Finny: Did Shannon get an owie playing WWB?

Mady: No, angel. She just got a little muddy and grounded.

Shannon: Not fair. Bahaha. You’re the worst.

Mady: Get back here missy! You’re hair is still wet.

Finny: Where did Shannons p-p go, Missus K?

Mady: Oh, don’t be silly. She’s a girl and you are a boy, young man.

Finny: I know that.

Mady: Then you understand there’s a difference right?

Finny: Yes ma’am. When we go to kindee gardens, I put my bapak in the blue cubby because I’m a boy and the girls put their bapaps in the pink cubby.

Mady: Hehe, that’s true. There are other differences too though, angel.

Finny: Yes. Girls go potty in the rezroom with the stick-guy picter that has a triangel and boys go to the regular stick-guy picter, and that’s it.

Mady: Oh dear. I am not qualified for this sort of discussion. Come, lets get your snack and it’s nap time for you two.

Mady: Don’t you feel better now that you’re in warm clothes and not covered in mud, children?

Finny: Yes.

Shannon: No!

Finny: Missus K.?

Mady: Yes?

Finn: What are summore diffrents for boys and girls?

Mady: Okay Finny. I will tell you one more but you have to promise that you will ask your parents to give you more answers? Promise

Finn: I promise.

Mady: Well. You know how Zoro has a mustache? Well, you’re too little to grow a Zoro mustache but someday you will be able to because you’re a boy.

Finn: But Shannon won’t be able to grow a mussacch?

Mady: No sweetie. Oh my lord, Shannon! I just washed your face! Sharpie, again! I can’t afford to repaint your room, the living room, the kitchen, the closet, the neighbors walls, the parrot.

Shannon: I am zoro! Swish, swish, swish.

Finn: Hehehe. I guess girls can have mustacchz. Hehe.

Mady: You’re Zoro and I’m parent-of-the-year. You two sword fight. Mommies going to go have some apple juice.

Finn: May I have some, please?

Mady: No.

Chapter Three

Chaz: The... “the sand.”

Fiona: Yes, almost there. Don’t get too excited, The sand is painfully gravely at Point Dume as you might expect from something that sounds like where Sauron takes his new Grindr dates. Good place to kill a fifth without the impending doom of the drunk tank though.

Chaz: You said that there was a specific line in the sand that changed your life?

Fiona: Yeah. I suppose it was the moment that I left the little girl I was at the closest fire station, without bothering to ring the bell or knock. I chose a side as life makes us do. I don’t know if either side would have led to resolution on an irresolute planet. I am certain they both would not have, actually.

Chaz: I get what you mean. I don’t know if the road sodas I’ve had but I kind of felt the same thing when I was a kid. Pull over so I can take a leak.

Fiona: That is definitely the road sodas.

Fiona: You look five pounds lighter.

Chaz: Shut up.

Fiona: Ok. You were saying something?

Chaz: Yeeya… When I was a kid, I mean. I stole my sister's panties and wore makeup and stuff. It felt pretty alright. I dunno. I mean. I mean… It was… well I get it.

Fiona: We’re here. Welcome to Malibu where the slogan of the town is “get off my lawn - some rich guy” population: zero poor people.

Fiona: Alright Charles. Let’s play a slightly different variation of frisbee. 

Chaz: I didn’t know frr-frisbee w-was a game.

Fiona: That’s disk golf. It’s not a game but let's make it interesting.

Chaz: Word.

Fiona. If you’d like to; draw a line in the sand right about there and no matter where the frisbee goes, you have to catch it from the side you pick.

Chaz: That’s ridiculous. Why would I do that? 

Fiona: I dunno. I didn’t say I was going to draw it for you. 

Chaz: Okay, so then when it’s your turn…

Fiona: Oh no, sweetie. I’d rather just throw the thing and not worry about arbitrary lines or compete. I know that I have this whole shore to respond to whatever comes my way, and it’s nice.

Chaz: Ouch!

Fiona: That wasn’t a diss, it was a…

Chaz: No, I meant that this beach has sand like fucking glass.

Fiona: Tolld you to bring footwear but you just can’t tell a man what to do. Especially if you have tits.

Fiona: I think the main reason I jumped lady-balls deep into being a tough guy for twenty-eight unceremonious years was that there's not only the pressure of society, or rather, the pressure of other men to become a man, but after my little brother was... after he was molested by the babysitter I…

Chaz: Stop. Nope. I can’t talk about shit like that. Fuck! look what you made me do.

Fiona: It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll go get it. 

Chaz: No, it’s lost. I’m gonna grab another from the van. Shit!

Fiona: …Ok man. Maybe just the guitar? I’m pooped with frisbee anyway

Chaz: …

Fiona: And the wine, please!

Chapter Four

Chaz: Hey Fiona

Fiona: Hey Charles

Chaz: Can I show you a song I wrote

Fiona: Of course

Chaz: I wrote it back when I was in middle school. I sort of haven’t written too much since.

Fiona: That was pretty good. I’d suggest a bridge of some sort; something to break up the riffs and to articulate the words better. Sounds like the lyrics were good but even if you have good words if you say them through your teeth, they sound untrue.

Chaz: I’ll try that. I guess I gave up because I’m not really sure about how to go about writing songs anyway. Got any tips?

Fiona: Name that one “Crawdads”

Chaz: Why?

Fiona: The words remind me of something involving crawdads. I don’t know. Probably a lousy reason to name it that, as it is not my song.

Chaz: Crawdads… What if I change the third verse from “never met dad to…” I don’t know…”something crawdad?”

Fiona: Nah. Too on the nose. If you want to plainly spell out the concept of the song, what’s the point of the lyrics and music? Why not just hop in front of a crowd and say “daddy left me at a young age and I can’t remember his face?” The concept should be tacitly buried at least six feet deep within the words

Fiona: I think that far too often, particularly in modern music, the cart is put before the horse.

I feel the best songs that I’ve written at least, the music was developed with the purpose to be an appealing enough vehicle for the lyrics to drive.

A song is like a bullet.

The music is the gun powder and casing that propels the bullet itself - the words and concept, into the hearts of the listener and when you have a hit, you will hear…

“Headshot!” Counter-Strike style.

The artist is the gun.

To take this metaphor one step further, an artist should have a gun safe full of all the different armaments they will need to shoot the correct caliber that is appropriate to the situation; sometimes maybe the weapon that’s appropriate hits the mark without a single word and the title may simply a what key it’s in and that it’s a sonnet or a waltz or I don’t know. Some Beethoven shit.

No matter which gun you use that is your favorite, not one of them is universally appropriate for every situation.

Fiona: Charles?

Chapter Five

Vercin: How come the steak isn’t on a hook?

Finn: Crawdadin’ ain’t like fishin’ 

Vercin: That's a big-ass one! It’s going to eat the whole thing.

Finn: When I say “now,” splash the water from your side and these little fuckers will swim backwards faster than shit. You gotta try and come at them in a way where they will all shoot into this here bucket.

Vercin: Ready.

Finn: Now!

Vercin: Rad! How many did we catch?

Finn: Looks like eight. The big one got away.

Finn: What kind of man do you see yourself being someday?

Vercin: I don’t know. I don’t ever think about that, really.

Finn: Got you bitch! Ha! 

Vercin: The big one?

Finn: I think it’s a different one, but it’s as big.

Vercin: How about you? What kind of man are you gonna be?

Finn: I’m gonna be like the Godfather. Tough, but fair. A gentleman but not too gentle. People are gonna know not to mess with me. Classy, brave, defender of the innocent, destroyer of the bad guys. Kind of like Batman except, I would have killed the Joker a hundred times by now If I were him.

Vercin: Yeah. Pretty much me too. I’ll be Robin though. You can be Batman.

Vercin: Dynamic Duo. The Dark Knight and Boy Wonder.

Finn: Yeah…

Finn: Boy, wonder what time the sun goes down tonight? No moon tonight, that broad with the nice rack on the news said, gonna be a dark night. We got enough Crawdads. Let's go.