Day CCXVIII

The Pick Up

     Jorge had a brand new, red Eldorado, parked not a few feet from the the bar. He schlepped over a few feet, and opened the door,

     “Ya coming or not?” He smiled.

     He didn’t have to tell her twice, she ran into it, smiled…

     “Dude! Wada ya do fo a living, man?”

     “Weally, ya don’t wanna na sweets!” He responded and left it at that.

     “Ya ain’t ina mob is ya?”

     He smiled, and just shook his head from side to side,

     “Oh no sweety, not me, I’m legit!”

     It was a quiet ride, and he could see her ogling his car. She kept taking deep breaths,

     “Man, I just love da smell of a noo cah, ya na.

     “Yea, ain’t nothing like it,” he responded as he silently watched her stroke the dash board, arm rest, the seat, and the door.

     He didn’t try to put the make on her, and was quite the gentleman when he dropped her off in front of her home. He opened the door for her, walked her right to her front door, didn’t try to buss her, said good night, and left. Then didn’t visit the bar again for a week.

     The next day he called me,

    “Yo dude, y’all neva, eva guess who I took home last night!”

     I had a hell of a hangover, and didn’t feel like playing games, so I responded,

    “Lay it on me, man, I got a hangover an don’t wanna play no games, man!”

    “Morgana!”

    “Det hoe from da Campana?”

    “Yup, da one an ony, dudio!”

    “Det barracuda, ya betta be coiful, man, det bitch is a gold diggah!”

    “Oi na, man, Oi na, Igots haw numbah, man.” Then he proceeded to enlighten me on his previous night’s encounter.