“Hey Mellow?”
“Hi Joe. How long?”
“Not so much tonight. Gotta go home; she suspects something’s up.”
“To the motel? Or just behind the dumpster?”
“Jeez … not behind a fucking dumpster for chrissakes. I wouldn’t do that to you. What do you take me for?”
“A john.”
“C’mon, Mellow. We’ve been doing this a long time. We can get some Chinese first, then I have until about eight.”
“I don’t have anything lined up later, so I’ll have to come back outside.”
“He’d make you go out again? It’s fucking cold out here.”
“You know how he is.”
“I never go through him. Don’t like that fucker.”
“Yes, but I tell him about you. I sure don’t want him thinking I’m holding out.”
“He ever hit you?”
“Nah, I’m smarter than that. I just make sure I don’t cross him.”
“I heard what he did to a couple of other chicks …uh, gir- uh, … women.”
“They thought they could get over on Sammy. Fucking idiots.”
“Not what I heard.”
“Sammy’s okay if-”
“If you toe the line. Why not get out? Get a real job.”
“What’s so different about other jobs?”
“Not many office workers get beaten with a coat hanger.”
“Yeah, but women always need to compromise to get by. Either they’re fucking the same guy in the same bed every night, or kissing ass in some two-bit job. Or, they’re out here.”
“Not everybody sells themselves.”
“Do you go to work?”
“Sure, everybody has to make a living.”
“Bingo. We’re all part of the work force.”
“Yes, Mellow, but people do fall in love.”
© 2013 Daddy X. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Daddy X always wanted to be a dirty old man. He’s survived the 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and George W. Bush. He maintained good humor throughout Catholic school, a paper route, muskrat trapping, a steel mill, Bucks County, Haight Ashbury, North Beach, Castro Street, the Mendocino Coast, the SF bar business, drug addiction, alcoholism, a stroke, Hep C, cancer, a liver transplant, a year of interferon, a stickup at his ancient art gallery while tied to a desk (not as cool as it sounds), a triple bypass, and George W. Bush. Now he’s old, and it’s time to get dirty. He’s been with Momma X (greatest editor on earth) for fifty years, but she thinks his stuff is too skievy to deal with. They live in northern California with an epileptic 90 lb lop-eared hound (17″ wingspan) and two cats. They raise little green girls to medicinal maturity each and every year.