Memory 312


It had been a long day trying to make enough money to get the fuck out of that hell of a town. Beer is cheap down in California, two bucks for three tall boys. A good deal if you think about it. I was dirty I hadn’t bathed in four days. I was still traumatized after finding that box of dead kittens in the parking lot at Denny’s. I needed the sweet harshness of alcohol to wash down the memory of those cold defenseless corpses. I never knew dead kittens had such cute ears. We sat on the curb waiting we waited it was hot I was hungry I thought we were going to die in that town full of Swedish Mennonites. I had just finished my last beer when a bright purple Bentley pulled up to the gas station. The driver’s door opened and out waltzed the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. He was strutting with all those chains and had a pimping suit on,  I wondered what he did for a living. I watched him walk inside and I told my boyfriend I’d be right back. I walked in and stood behind the successful business man as he bought a pack of Marlboro Menthol’s and complimented him on his orange shoes. He turned around smiled and I asked him for money. He threw his head back and laughed. He then pulled out his wallet and pulled out three hundred dollars. He told me to keep it real that he’s never had someone with the balls let alone a vagina ask him for money. He patted me on my almost dread locked hair and walked out still chuckling. I bought a pack of Lucky Strikes and another beer stuffed 285 bucks in my bra and walked outside.

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