I walked out a taqueria ahead of my friend and walked straight to his shiny silver car, and placed my paper plate of tacos on the trunk. I stood there and chased the first bite of taco with a swig from my can of Orange Crush soda. My friend joined me at the rear of his car and unwrapped his burrito. I saw a woman walking toward us, with intention. Strangers only approach me and my friend if theyre begging. We give off a prison tier vibe when we hang together. 38 years of incarceration combined. So I was surprised that she kept coming. She was approximately 40 years old. Mexican. Nice make-up. Conservative earrings. Hair in a bun. Long sleeve blouse buttoned up to the neck. Long skirt with smart flats. The possible well-dressed lady beggar smiled at us and said something in Spanish. I could not hear the words because of my bum hearing. My friend smiled and replied in Spanish. He must have also been surprised that she was a beggar. Bro, he said to me, wrapping up his burrito, she wants to know if she can get in her car. You got us eating on the wrong car trunk, you dopey bastard. I chuckled, gathered my plate and soda, and heard Pee-Wee Hermans voice in my head say, I know what I am. But what are you?
Posted on: Sat, 05 Apr 2014 22:44:12 +0000
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