Contact, p. 2

©2003, by Jeff Glovsky


<< Dude brings it, and I leave the bar. >>


Now smoking in a doorway cross the street, I watch Cristina leave:  She stumbles out the door and down the stoop, sways sideways like a crab...Grows sober as she peers around, pretends not even to be looking:  calm, she lights a cigarette, and plays she's taking in the night.

...She looks so damn ridiculous, I can't announce myself!  And so she finally goes back in and I unwind into a cab uptown.  "The cunt!" I laugh, as we blow lights off.  "What a fucking nose on her..."

The taxi cab driver, a little Chinese chick, is pissed because I know the way I take home.  She's an asshole, all surly, with sermons on driving.  "Whatever," I say.  "That's great, left, 57th...".  She turns, and proceeds to run over a biker.

"Wha'...!?  The fuck are you doing, man?  Didn't you see her!?  That's good right here," I yell.  "Stop the damn cab!"

The biker is bleeding and dancing around...as China Girl, beside herself, screams suddenly, "No cursing!"  She throws open her  driver's door and steps into traffic...A small crowd has formed where she's knocked down the biker.  I drop a five dollar bill onto the front seat...

"You pay me!  You motherfucking!" China hollers.

"...I paid you!"

"You give me!"

"I gave you!  The front seat..."

"You pay, motherfucking!  No curse in my cab!"

"There's a five dollar bill on your fucking front seat, bitch!"  She's slapped back and forth cross my bleeding-now mouth.  "You are evil.  You bad man.  You bad, evil man!

"Yeah, wha'efer!" She's pushing me, up in my face...

Turn my back on her, buck-like, sprint into a bar.

Inside I see Fag...Rather, he checks me out as I bolt in the door...Like an airplane, he veers on two wheels to stop me; like, all of a sudden, Fag's crossing my path!  Giant dick swinging loose in his indolent shorts...Fag has done this before.  In the past, he has probably even got some; like a dog that's been trained, poor cat just keeps on sniffing...

I knee him in his groin until he howls.  Winces, smiles at me..."You're still sweet," mewls the Faggot.

"I love you," say I.

"Yeah, what kind of light beer have you got?" to the bartender...Raises his eyebrows, looks up toward my sound.

This guy wedged in front of me's holding his ear.  Making loud, clucking sucks of disapproval (Get the fuck out of my way, you oaf!)...I shout again, "...kind of light beer have you got?

The guy with the earache ducks down, turns to face me.  "You wanna get in here?" he asks, shuffling sideways.

"No, no.  That's alright...You have Miller?" I holler toward the bartender.  "No glass...Yeah, MILLER!"

The guy with the earache knees me in the groin.

At the end of the bar playing drums in the air sits the Child Actor Richling Huff...He's not sitting.

Oh.

...So this is his place now:  a cane on a shelf where his vodkas are stocked; on display, with a cap, and a "Huffy's Place" t-shirt...Richling plays murderous drums in the air.  'Til both fists beat down hard on the bar like two rack toms, and everyone's drink skips a beat to the right.  "Fucking moron," I  think to myself, and pinch wetly, the ass of the cunt deep in smoke near a window.

"You've!  Got a stinking cigar in your mouth...Do you care?"

"And perhaps I'm just happy to see you...?"

"I doubt it.  You look really ugly, y'know?  Like a guy.  Like a dyke.  And you're here by yourself...What a drag!"

"You're an asshole!"

"Two lemondrop shots, please."  The bartender snaps to; I slap them both back.  "You want something...?"

"How do you know I'm alone!?"

"'Cause I smell you.  Perceive what you're going through, always.  Two more, please.  Here!  Have one...You gotta get out more!"

I hold up my hand to high-five her.  She grasps it.

First contact is made, like a walk on the moon.  "Aesthetically, you're really nowhere," I tell her.  "You're nice, though.  You smell nice.  I'll bet you crave fuck."

She excuses herself...to make a phone call??

Whatever!

I leave...

And the China Girl's waiting...Beats on my chest like an ape as I walk!  Now it's late out...The streets scream surrender like I do.  "Get OFF me!" I whirl, run back into the bar.


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To Natalie, who inspired the title and Patti, who inspired me ... and everyone else who appears in these stories and in me, in some way, to this very day ...


Underwear Woman Digs the Sea

(These Are Some Travel Stories!)

©1999-2013 by Jeff Glovsky.  All Rights Reserved.

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