Thursday, September 27, 2007

Needed: One Kevlar vest

Or at least some duct tape for my mouth.

So, it's about 4 pm and I'm down on West Howett. You locals know where I am. For youse that don't, let's just say it's not a nice part of town and leave it at that, ok?

I find the right house and the person I'm supposed to meet. She's sittin out on her front porch and made no move to invite me inside.

Ok, so we'll talk right here. On the front porch. On West Howett. At 4 pm. And everybody else is out on their front porch, too. Or on the sidewalk. Or in the middle of the street. And...well...they all belong there. And I don't.

Gettin the picture?

Just across the street, there are three or four teeny little kids playin in the yard...maybe 3-5 years old. And when I pull up, they start hollerin at me...

"Heeeeeey, biiiitch....yo biiitch!"


Through the whole interview, I'm hearin this, but ignorin it.

I get done and head out to the car. I throw my bag in...and can't stand it anymore.

I know. I'm in a bad place. I'm all by myself. But I can't help it.

I'm standin at my open car door, (better to make a fast getaway, doncha know?) look straight at the petite gang, (who all happen to be cute as hell) put my hand on my hip, grin (which mighta saved my fat ass) and say...

"Who you callin a biiitch?"

They all exploded in giggles.

I look back at the gal I'd come to see and she's laughin her ass off. (Thank gawd)


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