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Thursday, July 23, 2009

Strawberry Sidewalk



Poor Cabbage Patch Head. She's out there on the Motel Marquis sidewalk now, middle of the night, singing to herself, trying unsuccessfully to bum a cigarette or 35 cents or whatever from the only guy stupid enough to walk around out there at this time of night: me.

"Gimme a cigarette!" she calls at me.

"Ain't got none," I say, a full pack visible in the pocket of my tee shirt.

"Yes you does," she says, pointing at my pack.

"I'm on a tight budget," I answer.

"You got 35 cents? I need to call my peoples, let 'em know I'z okay," she asks as she hears the change in my pocket jingle while I walk past her to the Arco station for a liter of Mountain Dew.

I walk away. I return with the Mountain Dew.

"You got that 35 cents?"

"You never gave me nothin'." I say.

"You never asked for nothin'," she says in a lilting voice, trying to give me the come on.

"Stop peeing in my courtyard. How about that?"

"I ain't peed in there in a long time," she protests.

"Causing the flies to hang around in the morning," I ignore her, "Wiltin' my petunias."

Cabbage starts chuckling. "Somethin' in you loves ta fuck with me. You always fuckin' with me."

"Stop peeing in my courtyard, I'll stop fucking with . . ."

"Where'm I gonna pee then?"

"Pee out here by Kevin's car. He won't mind."

"Oh, he's a pervert. He likes to come out here and look at my ass."

"Kevin? He a 'PREvert'? Not Kevin."

"Oh, yas. He a prevert."

"He's moving out of here you know. In two days. Told me because he was tired of you peeing in his doorway."

"He a prevert I tell you. And it's tomorrow he movin'. Gimme a cigarette," she demanded.

"Ain't got none."

A rough looking character rides up to me on his bicycle. Mid thirties. Greasy clothing. Dirty brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. "You remember me? Kevin's friend?" he asks me.

"No."

"No? Uh, well, Kevin, he says you got a computer."

"Yeah?"

We're standing out here in the dark in the middle of the night. What's this guy doing? Interviewing a prospective burglary victim to see if robbing my room will be worth the effort?

"And you wouldn't have the internet, too, would you?" he asks.

"Sure."

"Oh, great," he says, looking relieved. "My daughter has a birthday and I'm late sending her something. If I come by tomorrow and write something, could you send it to her?"

"You got her internet address?"

"I could get it."

"Sure, no problem. Be glad to. Come on by."

I don't mind helping this guy. I'm pretty sure he never peed in my courtyard.

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