At the Dive, Sunday
After Mass, they'd stayed to clean up all the wrappers everyone left behind. The priest was quite drunk, and Carl asked they not return. Debbie couldn't help but agree. She'd felt obligated though, especially since Michael and Ben had been safely out of town all weekend.
The Dive wasn't in too dreadful of shape. The window she'd shot out was boarded over. She handed Carl the Screaming Fuschia spray paint and he went to work making it look like the rest of the shop's facade. He used the gold to paint "Deb's Diva Dive" over the fuschia She swept out the broken glass, cleaned up what little damage there was, and scoured gooey zombie handprints off her remaining window and the door.
Feeling utterly fouled, she insisted on the hottest shower she could stand before opening.
"Still beats the hell out of Pittsburgh," she said, straightening her trademark vest over her fuschia shirt that matched the decor.
She kissed Carl and went to work.
The Dive wasn't in too dreadful of shape. The window she'd shot out was boarded over. She handed Carl the Screaming Fuschia spray paint and he went to work making it look like the rest of the shop's facade. He used the gold to paint "Deb's Diva Dive" over the fuschia She swept out the broken glass, cleaned up what little damage there was, and scoured gooey zombie handprints off her remaining window and the door.
Feeling utterly fouled, she insisted on the hottest shower she could stand before opening.
"Still beats the hell out of Pittsburgh," she said, straightening her trademark vest over her fuschia shirt that matched the decor.
She kissed Carl and went to work.