Tiny Kimberly had always been inquisitive.

Ever since she was little, the goings on of the

most trivial things had fascinated her. Where did the leaves travel to in the fall? What happened

inside fallen logs on the forest floor? What happened when Mrs. Robinson took her weave out at

night? Who first decided that chicken should be eaten with waffles? Everything was a new

discovery to Tiny Kimberly. Nothing was too ordinary to explore.

Thats why when Tiny Kim went to record her latest rap song, it started with a question:

how many licks? How many licks does it take to get to the center ofa Tootsie Pop? But that

was too tame. Society says no. Society says that shits vanilla.

Society, her record producer and manager, sat down next to Tiny Kim in the recording

studio and gave her one of his famous lectures.

Yo, Tiny. You gotta think of who yous singin to. They dont wanna hear about Tootsie

Pops. They wanna hear about yo v-thang.

As Society spoke, Tiny Kim had visions. It never failed. Whenever Society went off on a

lecture, Kimberlys minds eye awoke and saw all sorts of amazing things. This time was fairly

low key: Sunlight through a window. Old cars parked along the street of her neighborhood. Her

momma. Always nagging her. You ask too many questions, she would say. Thats enough of

that now, ya hear?

Society didnt like the questions either. Why you gotta question everything? hed ask

her. Tiny Kim swore she had a good reason, but she couldnt name it. It felt as if the answer, her

reason, had been snatched away and she was still, after all these years, looking for it. But she

knew deep down that it was important and no matter how much pressure, she should never

abandon her questions.

 Girl, you need to quit paralogizin and start soliloquizin.

That was Dion Lamour, Kimberlys best friend from the Bronx. Dion had a vocabulary

that could rival Shakespeare. She wasnt afraid to use her big words either, and Kimberly always

found that inspiring.

You need to be loquacious, not salacious, added Dion. The two were sitting at their

favorite diner in Brooklyn. Eighties pop hits played in the background as Kimberly sipped her

strawberry milkshake.

Pink Babe is salacious, said Kimberly.

Pink Babes a ho! said Dion, a little too loudly. Sorry. But you know what I mean, girl.

Its not actually about bein a ho, its about sellin out! You cant sell out to Society, Kim. Youre

better than that, and you know it.

Kimberly stared out the window onto the cold damp street. Shed always dreamed of

getting out of the city. Her inquisitiveness had led her to discover that all kinds of strange new

worlds lay outside New York. There was a place in the Indian Ocean called le de la Runion.

Kimberly had seen photos of pristine tropical beaches, deep emerald green valleys, and had read

that the island smelled of vanilla from the vanilla beans that grew there. Kimberly swore that she

would make it there someday and breathe in that vanilla aroma.

Life in the city could be tough though, and it never helped that Pink Babe, her biggest

rival, was always on TV, putting out her so-called art, which consisted almost entirely of her
ass. Voluptuous. Wet. Dirty. Pulsating. Thumping. Like some kind of alien lifeform that breathed

a different kind of atmosphere. It thrived on attention. And as long as Pink Babe called it art, it

would be taken as such.

Pink Babe loved to drive by Tiny Kims recording studio in her pink Cadillac Escalade,

just to show off. It seemed even her Escalade had a big ass. Sometimes, Tiny Kim would throw

organic free-range brown eggs at Pink Babes Cadillac, upon which Pink Babe would screech to

a halt, get out of the car, and start a fist fight with Tiny Kim. Kimberly always won though,

mainly because she had studied aikido for ten years after wondering how one could deflect an

oncoming attacker with minimal effort. Pink Babe didnt ask any questions, hence her lack of

martial arts skill.

Meanwhile, Society would just stand on the curb and cheer. When the fight was over and

Pink Babe had driven away, vowing vengeance, Tiny Kim would glare at Society.

Why you just standin there clapping? She asked.

Its perfect publicity, said Society.

Youre disgusting, said Tiny Kim.

Back inside the recording studio, Society continued to pressure Kimberly to find out how

many licks it would take to get to the center of her pelvic anatomy. He was like a gross high

school boyfriend pleading for sex. Come on. Dont you love me?

Kimberly crossed her arms. No. Id like to know how many licks it would take to get to

the center of a Himalayan salt lamp.

 Society shook his head and launched into a lecture. Like magic, a vision appeared before

Kimberlys eyes. She saw massive success, millions of records sold, millions of dollars, fame

and popularity. People were worshipping her peesh. In fact, that's all they saw of her, just one big

peesh. She saw all of this wealth, these beautiful objects, but she felt no joy whatsoever. She

herself was just one of the many beautiful objects. The absence of joy was alarming to Kimberly.

Where was the happiness she was wanting? Her success was a nightmare.

Kim, are you listening to me? asked Society. As I was sayin, I got this slammin track

that Pink Babe turned down. She said it wasnt explicit enough, but I think itll suit you just fine.

Its all about objectifying your body

As Society continued talking, a new vision appeared before Kimberly, and it was a

doozie: She saw le de la Runion. A green gem in the middle of a deep blue and turquoise

ocean. Crystalline waters. Shimmering waterfalls splashing down jagged verdant cliffs. The

beauty was staggering and it took her breath away. She saw herself walking on the white sand of

Grande Anse beneath coconut palms. She saw the fiery hot lava of Piton de la Fournaise pouring

into the sea. And in the midst of all that there wasnt a trace of any kind of fame or excess of

attention, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

You listening to me, Kim? asked Society. Kimberly stared at Society.

No, Society. Im not listening, because Ive realized that you arent listening to me.

Youve never listened to me. You want the same shit from me over and over about genitalia and

makin it rain. You have no vision, Society. Youre crude and immature. You dont want to think,

so you let some girls giant ass distract you. You dont want to ask real questions, so you wonder

how many licks it would take to get to the center of my cervix. Contrary to what youve told me
this whole time, I dont need you, Society. You need me. But Im outta here, dawg. Im going

where I need to be, and I can assure you, its very vanilla.

And with that, Tiny Kimberly was gone. She would always continue to ask questions, but

from that point on, she would never allow Society to answer them for her.