The door shuddered.—Got a delivery . . .
—Like who’s stopping you . . .
It sagged in—look I been here before I’m trying to deliver a truckload of where are you anyways . . .
—Where does it look like . . . she batted the rise of suds from a shoulder,—I mean what are you staring at, deliver your delivery . . .
—Thousand gross plastic flowers down there look, how you expect me to get a thousand gross plastic flowers in here you . . .
—Man like who said I expect you to do anything? Like I mean that’s your problem, I mean you’re supposed to be this big delivering man do it how they told you in delivering man school, okay . . .? The shirt wad came up wet abruptly jostling pebbled pinks from the suds—I mean look man at least can you quit standing there pulling your pork and like answer the telephone? No I mean look it’s like right up there behind you . . .