“That is so absolutely not attractive,” I say.
“Wait, wait,” Bez says. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Only if they’re too hot,” she says. “You don’t want to get a burn on the inside.”
My phone rings and I answer it without looking, which is unlike me, given my general dislike of the telephone. “Hello?”
“Hello.” It’s Nikola. “What are you doing right now?”
“Watching Bez stick french fries up her nose.”
“Of course you are.”
“She’s up to twelve of them. Six in each nostril. I have no idea where she’s putting them all.”
“She must be very popular with the boys,” he says. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Maybe taking Bez to the emergency room.”
“When you are done with that, let me know. I will pick you up and take you for dinner.”
“As long as we don’t have to eat fries. I don’t think I want to eat fries ever again.”
“Fifteen!” Bez shouts. “One nostril must be bigger than the other. Who knew?”
“Tell her she should try sticking them in her ears as well,” Nikola says. “I used to do that when I was a boy. My mother would hit me when she would find me doing it. Such good memories.”
“Nikola says to put them in your ears,” I say to Bez.
“Your boyfriend is a genius.” She takes the sixteenth fry, the one she was trying to shove in her nose, and pops it into her mouth.
“God, did you just eat that?” I ask. “That is the most disgusting thing ever. I’m never kissing you again.”
“Sure you will,” she says. “My milkshake brings all the girls to the yard. Plus you get fries with that.”
“Nikola,” I say into the phone.
“If I am dead from grossness before you come over here, I just want you to know: you’re the only Serbian I’ve ever loved.”
“The gypsies will sing songs to your name,” he says.
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