Mama Bear and the Hobbit

"Here, BP, read this book," C shoves the hardbound book, For One More Day, into my hand.
"Oh, ok, thanks. What's it about?"

"It's a good book, read it. It's about this guy and his life and stuff."
"Sounds interesting," I say as I open the book's back cover to a well used Black History Month bookmark. Seeing it, I inquire, "Oh, did you read this book for Black History Month?"

"Yes, I did," C reports while fixing his hair for a house party we're headed to. Turning over the bookmark, I find a picture of the author and let out a snicker.
In a Mean Girl's moment, I straightforwardly ask him, "Um, C... if you read this book for Black History Month, why is the author white?" Not knowing that the author is Caucasian, he looks at me like I just shot the pope, then looks at the picture and laughs.

"Haha, shut up, BP. Just get the book, and let's go get in the car."

We jump into Tasty Cakes and hop on the interstate. At the edge of the world, where the freeway ends and suburbia begins, we arrive at a punk rock party in the middle of Mormon land that's four lots away from the abandoned neighborhood crime house. No, the punks did not do it, and yes, I was dressed in white at the party.

Inside it's a bona fide house of leather and levi's, motor-oiled blue-black hair, and tarted up motorcycle tube tops... and then there was C, Skinny boy, and myself in our not-so-punk get ups. Warmly greeted along the way by nail studded wrist bands and shouts of "Hey, BP! You made it!", I introduce C and Skinnyboy to everyone - including those I don't know. We deftly high five our way to the wine and cheese island. That's where I make the acquaintance of Mama Bear...

Eyeing their unease, I ask my over 21 partners, C and Skinnyboy, "Ok, kids, so what do you want for a refreshing beverage?" Like a salsa dancer being twirled around, a woman next to me swiftly turns toward me, her hair mimicking the flailing of her skirt and faces the three of us.

She shouts out over the blaring music, "Oh my god! I say that too, 'ok, now kids'! What's your name, you're absolutely beautiful!"

Broadly showing my pearly whites, I reply, "Yeah! I'm BP. Isn't it so much fun when you say it, it just makes you feel like you're a big teddy bear or something." She nods in excitement. Going on, I say, "See, here, these are my baby bears," gesturing toward C and Skinnyboy, "so, for tonight, I'll be papa bear, and you can be Mama Bear!" At which point, she puts down her iced margarita, opens her arms, and grabs the three of us like we're rag dolls and squeezes us into her ample breasts. I felt at home.

Just then, Scandalous Sally bounds up the stairs holding the hand of a real life chubby version of Elijah Wood. The gracious hostess follows them, turning heads away, and grabbing a few rubbers from her purse. Minutes pass. Scandalous Sally comes downstairs, hair a mess, grabs me away from Mama Bear, and leads me outside to watch her smoke a cigarette.

"Oh, BP! You're my best friend here. That guy was cute, right? I mean, he was like a chubby Elijah Wood from the hobbit movies, right?"

Gazing at the stars, I bite my lower lip and say, "I'm glad your happy, baby. I need another drink."