Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Generosity Of Spirit
The phone rang.
"Steve here, start talking."
"Hey, it's Ken. I need help. Say yes."
"I'm really fucking horny. I'm bursting here. I can't stand it!"
"And you're calling me... Why are you calling me? Go jack off."
"No, no, see, I need you to give me a ride. I've been looking up escorts on my iPhone. You know, Craigslist, shit like that. There's some pretty good ones on there. There's this one petite blond, goes by Kelli. I emailed her and she'll take me tonight. $300 for an outcall. I need to get to the Extended Stay America in Schaumburg, but my car broke down last week."
"If I heard you correctly, you have a busted car and several hundred dollars. Am I missing something here, or are you?"
"The car's gonna cost a grand, man. It'll keep. I can walk to work. It's a fucking print shop, I can show up sweaty and nasty. I need to get off. Come on."
"What's in it for me, Ken? I don't want to sit in a hotel parking lot for an hour, looking suspicious, while you're inside catching crabs. Take a cab, whoremonger. Obviously you can afford one."
"Not if I have to keep the meter running for an hour! That'll probably cost more than the hooker!"
"Alright, we're here. Now go fuck. And you owe me."
I sat in the car smoking cigarettes, reading a John Irving novel by the dim interior lights. Ken had been inside for forty five minutes when the hotel's fire alarm went off.
I considered the pile of smoldering cigarette butts on the pavement beside my car. I'd been chain smoking, but it looked like I'd been there for hours. I thought about the fire trucks and police soon to be crowding the lot. Potentially blocking me in. I thought about fire marshals, questions, and outstanding warrants for my arrest.
Time to go. Sorry, Ken.
As I drove across the lot, threading my way to the exit, evacuating guests began streaming into the lot. They milled about, confused, swapping information, looking around and up at the windows, trying to find an actual fire. I was almost out of the lot when I heard Ken shout.
There he was, wearing naught but his socks and boxer shorts, dripping with sweat, coated in glitter, sprinting towards my car. I halted and unlocked the passenger side. He hopped in, hyperventilating, eyes wide, his wallet clenched tightly in one fist.
"I thought strippers wore glitter. Hookers too?"
He ignored the question.
"GO GO GO!"
I wasn't about to peel out. Whether I'm guilty or not, I know better than to look like it. Calmly, I continued away, leaving the Extended Stay and a parking lot full of bewildered folks behind. Most were watching, entertained by the nearly naked man running and shouting.
Ken kept craning his head to gaze through the rear window, trying to see if Kelli had made it out yet.
"Why do you keep looking back there? I mean, you paid, right? You have to pay up front. Don't they make you?"
"Well, yes and no. You put the cash on the dresser."
"So what's the 'no' part?"
"Well... When the fire alarm went off, I kept fucking, but she said to stop, so I did. I pulled out and started getting dressed. I was wondering how this was gonna work, cause I only got to come during the blow job, and I paid to come twice, once in her mouth, once in her pussy. I mean the condom. But anyways, when she reached for the dresser, I pushed her away and snagged it, but I was all energized and shit and I pushed too hard. She flew back and fell off the bed, hit her head on the other nightstand, and started screaming shit about her pimp castrating me. Or killing me. Something bad. I don't know. Her face was bleeding. When she went for her purse, I figured she had mace, or a tazer, or something. So I bolted."
"I thought you were a bad person before, Ken. But not a very bad one. You know? Jesus. I want this fucking glitter out of my car; you're sweating it all over the seat. You're paying for an entire wash."
"I'm a bad person? No way man! I didn't even get to finish!"
"You still have the $300 then, right?"
"Wanna get an eightball?" 6:44 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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