The other night I sold a hooker some Jergens, a pack of "Thyn" Lifestyles and some Napkins. I helped her open the package - It wasn't your standard cardboard casing you see, but a translucent blue plastic that revealed the treats or more over, the necessary tools of the trade inside: Condoms that promised to be "so thin you'll forget you're wearing it". Isn't marketing great? I'm sure in the week we've been carrying them we've sold those things like fuckin' hot cakes. Those and "Kyng" size condoms, which are no magnums but still give the shrimp-dick buying them a sense of superiority. Where was I? Oh, yes, I handed the condoms I'd liberated from their casing and handed them gingerly into her hands. I'm not sure how the conversation started, probably with a
"How's your night going?" ah, a common night clerk pleasentry, not necessary an inappropriate opening for
"My ass hurts, how's yours?" she said, with a dry prostitute's wit. you have to have a sense of humor.
"Living the dream, another day another dollar, a penny saved is a penny earned" something along those lines, not really wanting to engage in butt talk with a prostitute.
"This guy's paying me 30 bucks..." as if I'd have any point of reference "...but y'know, I'm getting some soda and a pack of smokes out of it too..." I guess that's cool, I really want a cigarette "...hey, do you think I'm cute?"
Oh god no "Uh... you're not really my type"
"What, whys that?"
"I'm... uh... I'm gay" Gay for her, that is
"Oh, cool"
Its funny how you can enjoy a conversation as much as you want to run screaming away from it, but you and I know there is always a counter and an empty pack of condoms in the way.
Big Mike.
No comments:
Post a Comment