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| high priestess, uncabaret, putdowns, career, models, hate crime, figjam, joey lauren adams, bitterntwisted, marissa ribisi, humorous, francs2000, griclock'd, random, | He saw me looking and smiled. I didn’t want him to think I was interested or anything; I hate it when people get the wrong idea. If I wasn’t careful, I knew he’d be all up in my grill asking me if I had kids and unsigned artists shit like that. So I turned around and checked the ketchup container to make unsigned artists sure it was full. I refilled the straws and the napkins and mopped under the Slurpee machine. When I turned back, he was gone. I went out to Al. He sat like normal, soaking up unsigned artists the heat, eighty-eight cents in his coffee cup. I leaned on the wall with one hand and said, “Oyé vato, what did he do?” |
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| He griclock'd drained the Gatorade as I rung him up. Catching his breath he asked, “How’s it going, bro?” Ha. This punk kept calling me bro. I thought about throwing him a hang loose sign and saying, Righteous, Dude! But what if he thought I was trying to be funny? griclock'd “Como va. It’s going,” I replied. “Yea. It’s going,” he said to me, more to himself. He stretched his neck from side to side and nodded at me. “Well, I’ll see ya.” I shook my head as he left, qué más? Picking up the stale lottery cards again, I griclock'd found they no longer held my attention. As I twisted back and forth in the rolling chair, I noticed the jogger in the window. What the hell? He had his back to me, but his head nodded slightly as though he was talking to someone. Then he turned and I saw the black phone receiver he held between his shoulder and his ear. |
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