"I like all genres of music except rap. Actually, I think rap music is an oxymoron." She stuck her finger in her mouth and made a gagging sound.
"I can understand how you feel, but Cam 's managed to teach me a little rap appreciation." I kept both hands on the wheel and focused on driving.
Glenda stared at me. "You mean you permit him to listen to that crap with you? Are you crazy?"
"Yes, a little, but at least I'm in therapy. I do it because of my mother. She hated my rock music and always made me turn it down. I swore I'd never be like her. So, yes, Cam and I listen to rap in the car. It's a bonding thing. And we play it as loud as he wants it!" I turned and gave Glenda a brilliant smile.
"You'll be wearing hearing aids before you're out of your forties. Did you see that hideous thing in Catherine's ear at church yesterday?" She squirmed, rubbed her ear, and slumped further in her seat.
I shook my head. "No, I don't think I even saw Catherine. Just listen to this one song by Tupac." I pressed number one for his CD, but the volume was too low. When I reached to turn it up, the whole knob fell off, and I said, "Damn!"
Glenda gave me a smug look. "See, God doesn't even want to hear it.
What about a less direct exchange? I could imagine the second person responding not to rap but to the word "oxymoron."
ReplyDeleteI hate the word "oxymoron." Sounds like somebody slamming me bigtime. You're not just a moron; you're an oxymoron.
The idea is to watch how the first character reacts to the nonsequitur. She can't just steer the conversation directly back. She has to imply her hurt at not being listened to.