Last Millennium Hooker

“Hey … hey … !!! I need a ride!”

I was pulling out of the U-Haul location having just returned a trailer. Exiting the business I saw a figure coming up the sidewalk on my left.

A woman was walking along the street. She had on a black skirt that was up to her belly button. (It wasn’t … but believe me, it very well could have been.) She walked confidently in coffee-colored faux suede boots complimented by an overly revealing top, dirty-blond, ratty hair tied in a ponytail, a gaudy necklace with some sort of pendant hanging from it and a frayed handbag tossed over her shoulder.

But it was her make-up that made me do the double take however. At first anyway.

Ever seen The Drew Carey Show? Remember Drew’s nemesis Mimi? That was the sort of makeup she was wearing: Clown-like, loud and garish. Yikes.

Yeah. Mimi. Tons thinner. And as a hooker.

Oh … I almost forgot the best part: She was in her mid-70s if she was a day. (Now, truth be told I have no idea how old the woman was in reality. But she had to have been in her 70s. Easily. The jowls, aged skin and bony legs were dead giveaways. Talk about scary.)

I pulled to a halt after exiting the driveway. By the time I got to the stop sign, she was already at my right with her thumb sticking out trying to hitch a ride from any passerby who would slow down for her.

That’s when she came up to me.

With a spring in her step she leapt off the sidewalk, came up to my passenger door and slapped at it noisily a couple times to get my attention.

“Hey … hey … !!! I need a ride!” I wasn’t certain what she had said at first so I rolled down my window a bit to hear more clearly. As I did, she winked at me. I know for a fact there had to have been surprise in my eyes from her wink at me. Still, I had to stifle a laugh. The obvious paint-by-numbers make-up staring at me was simultaneously horrifying and laugh inducing. I buried a guffaw deep down inside as she addressed me again.

“I need a ride. You want to gimme a ride?” she asked. She didn’t wink. This time but smiled at me.

I was confused.

“A ride? Really?” I asked of her. “Are you okay?”

She leaned against the vehicle in an effort to better look at me. I couldn’t help but notice her scanning all around inside my vehicle as she talked. Right then I felt I was being “sized up.”

“Yeah … I really need a ride …” she responded. The plea came forced and way too suggestively. “You look like you could give me a ride …”

I smiled back at her and told her “I just stopped to make certain you were all right. I wasn’t sure … I mean, the way you were hitting my door I thought something might be the matter. But now that I know you’re okay … I’m sorry, I don’t pick up hitchhikers.”

Without another word she did an about face and went back to the corner near the stop sign. She stuck her thumb out at the oncoming traffic once again.

I pulled away. The guffaw I had stifled came gushing out, furiously …



Yeah …

Duck Towel Holes

I put a towel lightly sprinkled with water into a tortilla warmer. And then I put the warmer into a microwave. And turned it on.

Just for a minute. To help keep tortillas that much warmer, you understand.

I mean … what could possibly go wrong… ???


“Excuse me …”

I didn’t hear the man I had parked behind at the gas station call out. I was concentrating on putting gasoline in the containers in front of me. I didn’t see he was trying to get my attention.

“Excuse me …”

One container filled, I moved onto the next.

Excuse me … sir?”

I looked up, not only hearing him but realizing he had been attempting to attract my attention.

“Yes?” I responded.

“There’s a triple ‘A’ right over there …”

I looked to where the man was pointing over his shoulder, bobbing his finger in the direction he to look.

“There is at that,” I confirmed.

“They can help you out, I’m sure” he offered.

I was puzzled why he was offering this information but I played along. “They’ve helped many people before. In need, they could help me, too.”

“Looks like that need is evident right now,” he told me.

I just stared at him, wondering what in the world he was talking about. There had to have been a quizzical look on my face as the conversation progressed because he began smirking.

He pointed to his chest … and then he pointed at mine.

I’d forgotten: I was wearing my “Lost” T-shirt …