(I wrote this like, last summer and never published it. So...yeah.)
"Can I see the map?" I ask Muffy as we're walking to my car.
"Don't worry about it, I know how to get there."
"I don't give a shit, I'm going to get lost if you're giving me directions."
"Dude. You're not listening to me. I know how to get there."
"And you're not listening to me: I WILL GET LOST. Seriously. Can I please see the map?"
"Just trust me, okay?"
"I do trust you. I just trust my frustration more. Please give me the goddamn map."
"Dude, it's not hard to get there. I've been there before. I like, go there all the fucking time."
"I don't give a shit if you go there, you could paint the route on the fucking streets with fucking ice cream and I will still get lost if I don't know where we're going."
"But I know where we're going."
"Jesus Christ, give me the map."
"Okay, all we do is take 88 to fucking 39-"
"Please. Give. Me. The map."
"I'm fucking telling you how to get there!"
"YOU FUCKING TELLING ME IS WHAT GETS ME LOST. I can't follow directions."
"How can we get fucking lost--"
"All I need is to look at the map. "
"--if I'm in the car sitting right fucking next to you."
"You know, I will find a way out of spite," I mutter as I hand her my car keys.
Muffy reaches into her pocket and hands me a folded scrap of paper in return. "Here. I wrote them down."
Wave it away. "I cannot follow written or verbal directions, it fucks with my bearings."
Muffy scoffs at me and unlocks her door. "I should just fucking drive."
"Shut up, I'm driving," I pull my door handle, thunking it a couple of times. "I don't want to listen to your shitty punk music."
"Harsh, dude. Harsh." She tosses my keys back to me over the top of my car before climbing into the passenger seat.
"Seriously," I unlock my door and trip a little as I sit down, "Shit. I just look at the map, see where we are and where we need to fucking go and I will fucking get us there, I don't need street names or nothing. Fucking beginning and end. Boom. Done." Slam the door.
"Dude, I will be telling you directions like step by step."
"Seriously, if you're just sitting there telling me what to do I'm gonna get pissed off and like subconsciously fuck it all up, and then I'm going to blame you in the back of my head."
"Maybe I don't want to give you the map."
"Then we're just going to be miserable all fucking weekend, because we'll be all hating each other."
"Ha ha! Dude, you are so psychologically fucked."
"Please give me the fucking map before I fucking cut it out of your fucking hands."
"Okay. Jesus," she pulls a second piece of folded paper out of her pocket and throws it on the dashboard. "Fucking baby much?"
I start the car, snatching the map. "I fucking hate you so hard."
Muffy and I say "fuck" a lot.