Monday, March 31, 2008

The Dumpster Gods Must Be Crazy, Part 6 of 8

My glasses must've flown 15 feet from the blond's punch. Well, it wasn't a punch so much as it was a flail. Her arms were flailing in a sudden flurry that I wouldn't have believed possible a few moments earlier.

A few moments earlier, she was like a puppet with its strings cut. Now she was spinning like the Tasmanian Devil.

When she stopped screaming and flailing, she blinked once at me as if clearing her eyesight of something ridiculously unbelievable and horrific and lurched off towards the footpath leading to the apartment complex fitness room area, spitting vile epithets back at me like hateful incantations to make me disappear.

"Fugging fraggot," she cursed.

"SHIT!" she exclaimed.

"Perv!" she accused.

"LOSER!" she canted.

She hadn't quite gotten her 'sea legs' under her yet, so her hurky jerky stiltwalking sort of resembled the way Frankenstein walked in those old movies. As she was lurching towards the footpath, a business card seemingly fell out of her ass.

Her gray miniskirt was still hiked up halfway up her butt, displaying glimpses of her red thong panties, her hair was still skewed to one side as if she'd stood sideways in a wind tunnel. She was quite a sight, even with my glasses off.

I picked up my glasses and put them back on, redfaced. Very redfaced. I could feel the heat in my face. It was getting hotter. I was . . . angry. I started striding towards her. Without looking back, she sensed my approach and sped up her stiltwalking. I walked faster. She lurched faster. I started pumping my steps. She started pistoning her lurches.

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