Wednesday, April 02, 2008

The Dumpster Gods Must Be Crazy, Part 7 of 8

I caught up to the blond at the locked footpath gate. She yanked and yanked at the lock gate, kicked it. She turned and started flailing her arms again, yelling "Whu? What? What? What are..?"

I pushed her flailing arms out of my way, bent into her and lifted her up onto my shoulder, tossing her up in the air a few inches over my shoulder like a hundred pound bag of dog food to get a good balance. I spun around and walked back towards the dumpster.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed as she kicked her legs and flailed her fists against my lower back.

I didn't answer because I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that I was angry. I was mad. I could hear Credence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" in my mind's ear. I could hear it clearly.

I vaguely had a picture in my mind of her flying back into the dumpster, ass in first this time. I pumped my legs to the beat of "Bad Moon Rising." The music helped lighten my load.

As I got to the dumpster and started shifting the load to throw her in, I was definately going to throw her back in, somewhere in the back of my mind I had made that decision, somewhere in the back of my mind, where the music was loud and fast, I had decided that this was one L.A. bitch who wasn't going to step all over me and berate me at the same time.

If this mean, drunk, pukey bitch thought she was the first mean, drunk, pukey bitch that I had ever run across in this town, she was dead wrong. I drove L.A. call girls for five years. I've met every kind of mean, self-centered, conniving, cruel, lying, manipulating, thieving, lowlife cunt there is and I . . .

She said, "No. Wait."

I shifted the load again, stepping one leg back for support and bending slightly to get a good toss . . .

"No, wait. WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE! Wait. Wait wait wait."

I started rocking back and forth with my load, mentally counting.

One . . . two . . .



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