Nailed it

“Hey, Dewie. Now that you haven’t bitten your nails in a while you should totally let me give you a manicure.”

Dewie scrunches her face up in an expression that’s half way between disgust and annoyance. “I don’t want pretty nails.”

Sighing, I reach for her hand and inspect her newly grown nails. “It’s not about having pretty nails, it’s about good hygiene, like brushing your teeth.  Look at them. They look all raggedy.”

“Fine. Manicure me.”

“Also I will make them sparkly.”

“No Sparkles.”

“Ok, but a little glitter might do you some good. You know, help you out with your sour puss problem.”

“I do not have a sour puss problem …and absolutely NO GLITTER!”

“Ok, well I do a really good chrome. It’s a black base with a silver topcoat, looks totally badass. Or I also 

do this really neat thing with a bright orange basecoat and a gold topcoat. It looks like fire. You want fire nails?”

“I can’t pull off badass. Maybe just a clear coat.”

“Ok, so a clear coat over the chrome. Good thinking. You want to protect it.”

“NO CHROME!!”

“Geez, alright. You could just humor me, you know. It does come off, for crying in the sink. Your thumb nail is wicked ridgy.”

“Yeah, I know. They seem to be getting worse in the last couple of years. Can’t you do that thing you do with the sander thing?”

“Buff it out? I don’t know. These are really deep ridges. I’m afraid you would be left with a cellophane nail by the time I got them all off. I mean seriously, your nail is like a damn ruffles potato chip. I've seen ridges this deep on really old men, but never on a girl.”

“And just how many girls’ nails have you actually inspected?”

I feel a grin tug at the corner of my mouth.  “Well, there’s that group of strippers on Saturdays. It takes a while because they want all that fancy stuff on their nails, the jewels and whatnot. It’s awesome because they pay me in lap dances.  That booty dust does tend to linger, though. It gets all pushed into your jeans. Then, if I feel like it and have some time left over, I head over to Hooters. Those girls are a little easier; mostly French tips. They pay me in chicken wings though, so not as much fun. Here lately they've been bringing in a whole group of their slutty friends, so I’m not sure if I’m going to keep doing it. It’s starting to become a production…”

“ALRIGHT! If I let you do the chrome will you stop?!”

“Yep.”

“Fine.”

“Yay!!! You sure you don’t want to hear about hooker Wednesdays?”

“Just stop.”