He was sitting on the bench by the Eastbound bus stop on Kavanaugh. Young kid. Maybe 22. He had numerous piercings in his head and the sleeveless t-shirt he was rocking showed off all of his ink. He was wearing baggy cargo shorts and tennis shoes. He was smoking and talking at the same time as I approached him.
WP: Duuuuuude! There's a reason I sound good! Gonna score with two fiiiiiiiiine bitches tonight!
Pause to take a deep drag on cigarette. Nodding head. After collecting what passes for his thoughts our hero spoke again.
WP: Met a girl on the bus. Sweet little thing named Chantellllllllllllllle. Goes to Pulaski Tech. She gave me her number. Says she has time for me tonight. Well, duuuuuuude I sho'nuf got me some time for her. Sweeeet!
Chantelle, I doubt that you are reading this tonight. But you never know. I once got an e-mail from an exotic dancer who performed at on of our local strip joints. She said she liked the blog. She invited me to come out to see her some night. Told me she would let me talk to her without buying her a drink. I didn't take her up on it as I don't trust a stripper who doesn't drink.
Looking back I should have accepted the invitation if for no other reason than journalistic curiosity. Alas, she left the performing arts to take a job with the Department of Social Services in a State somewhere out West.
We do not make these things up.
And so Chantelle, if on the outside chance you are reading this tonight, you can do better than this idiot.
Check caller ID tonight. Really. Stick to the books.
You are not the only one.