Day CCXVII

Da Pick up

     George was a mischievous soul with a penchant for practical jokes. When I first went to his place with some pals, for a few drinks, he sent me down those stairs to the bathroom.

    “Yea dudio,” he said with a smirk, “Just go out dat doah, and down da stairs on ya left, da toilets ona left ata bottom, man.”

     I really wasn’t paying attention, but once out in the hallway, I thought it kind of strange that his small apartment should suddenly be so freaking huge. Then the stairs just blew me away. That mofo had just kind of conveniently, forgot to tell me anything about the parlor, on the other side of the door. Good thing I was sober, knew what he did for a living, and so I kind of figured it out. All the while the guys anxiously waited for me to

scream or something, but I disappointed them.

      A week later Jorge was coming out of the dance hall, and ran into Morgana out on the sidewalk. The bar had just closed, and she was looking for a cab.

     “Hey…Morg…is it?” He asked, as he pointed his index finger at her.

     “It’s Morgana, dude! I na ya from some wa, man?”

     “I’ve caught yar ack a few times.”

     She smiled, “Oh, yea, Oi’ve seen ya poivet self in da checking my ass out!”

     “Well girl, da way ya shakes it…come on, who can miss it, uh?”

     “Taxi…taxi taxi!” She hissed.

     They kept flying by, nobody stopped, and slick Jorge saw his opportunity.

     “Ya wanna lift some wa?”

     “Dude, I jest wanna go home, man..not looking tagit ina anything, ya dig?”

     “No problem, sweets, I gotta woik ina moining, so ya wanna lift or not?”