Maxima!!

TRACK 01: DREAM GIRL

"Rise and shine, dumbass."

Rosie didn't need the wakeup call. The scrabbling of her landlord atop her body -- and his rhythmic stomps to her face -- made sure she wouldn't get a forty-first wink. Her eyelids fluttered open. Sure enough, he put his whole body in front of her eyeball. All six feet of him, wrapped in a cheap tracksuit with room to spare, and crowned with a bristly ducktail that would have slayed a few decades ago. She didn't make full eye contact, thanks to those aviator shades of his. Part of her wondered if he'd allow it; he scowled at her like an angry chihuahua, but his wobbling knees told a different story.

"Mornin', Dillan," said Rosie, and put on her first smile for the day. "How're ya doin', sweetie?"

"Hey! What did I tell you about that?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Mr. Landlord."

"That's Mr. Landlord to -- oh. You just said -- well, good! Don't go forgetting your place around here!" He kicked the side of Rosie's nose to drive the point home. It took exactly three seconds for him to jump and cradle his aching toes.

Seeing Landlord hop like a pogo stick across her face made Rosie want to give him a soothing hug, and she started to sit up for it. Big mistake; Landlord tumbled off her head and rolled down until gravity grabbed him like a lasso. Thankfully, none of it lasted for long -- the lethal drop onto the beach below, or his girlish squealing. Rather than splatter his skull on the sands, Landlord made a safe landing atop her chest; both members of her dynamic duo dwarfed a California king, with ten times the cushioning for good measure.

Rosie giggled as Landlord started sinking deeper in. "Was gonna ask if ya needed a hug, but this'll work." She ignored his thrashing and struggling so she could pluck him free; he scowled all the while, but she still played crane and set him down safely on the beach -- with an extra pat on the head that sent him onto all fours. "Offer's always there if ya ever wanna take it."

"What am I, six? I'm a man!"

"Even men need hugs."

Landlord fumed at the gesture, but Rosie didn't mind. She kept that smile on her face -- soft and light, but packed with whimsy and cheer. He had it right; Landlord was a man, both older than her and decently imposing thanks to his lanky frame. The latter didn't make a difference to Rosie, seeing as how to her, he could have passed for a toy soldier. Life as a fifty-foot woman had given her one heck of a skewed perspective.

While her landlord slapped his chest to calm his heart, Rosie started her morning stretches. Yards of lemonade locks, thrown together in a mix of feathery fluffs and waves, splashed down her shoulders as she raised her arms high. She let out a tiny hum as she brought those arms back down; her time in the Santa Infierno sun had left them with the slightest golden sheen, even if those rays had glazed limbs longer than pickup trucks. While she twisted left and right, she kept her legs folded into a soft diamond. Very soft, she hoped, like fresh marshmallows. Sheer length aside, their contours put her on what she called -- and prayed others saw her as -- "the right side of plus-sized". Even as she turned her torso, a blind man would have seen the hourglass outline of her body. An overwidth hourglass, granted; a week ago she'd had a run-in with a trucker whose cargo bore the same banner. The key difference? It didn't have hips that could fill a street lane. Her hum turned into a melody as she held her arms in a W shape; the slight arch she formed with her back made the amazing colossal bust threaten to detonate her shirt -- a shirt missing a sleeve and shoulder, but stretched over her at the expense of the boxy robots woven across her chest.

"Done yet?" Landlord barked. "We've got business to take care of."

"Sure do." Rosie let her arms fall at last; they hit the beach like bombs and kicked up bursts of sand. "Today's the day."