Ruminations of a Red Dirt Hussy

June 26, 2016

Picking up hookers–just your average Tuesday at Quik Trip

Filed under: General — Vadasmaker @ 4:17 pm

I always worried that if Jim died first there would be no one to take care of me. I mean, who would find my keys when I accidentally put them in the refrigerator? Who would I call when I hit a curb and have a blowout? Stupid curb. Who would remind me to turn off the alarm before I go out on the porch to scream at the dog across the street? Who would agree with me about the stupidity of man-buns, flip-flops, and reality shows and the necessity of cats, wine, and occasional silence?What I never worried about was what would happen to him if I died first. I figured that given all his experience taking care of me, he would be super good at taking care of himself. 

And then he accidentally picked up a hooker.

Damn it. I have told him about that shit. “Don’t be picking up strange women. I don’t care what they tell you.” And then he comes home and tells me this:

Him: So I was sitting in the Quik Trip parking lot at 11th and Utica eating cookies. This woman came up to the truck and asked me if I could give her a ride to Pine and Peoria.

Me: But you didn’t, right?

Him: She said she’d give me gas money.

Me: But you didn’t, right?

Him: Well, I didn’t take her money. I told her I was going that way anyhow.

Me: But you didn’t let her in the truck, right?

Him: I had to. I was giving her a ride.

Me: That shit will get you killed.

Him: I looked. She didn’t have anything in her hands.

Me: You don’t think she could’ve had a knife in her purse? A gun in her waistband?

Him: (Blank stare.)

Me: Then what?

Him: While we were on the way to Pine and Peoria, she said she was looking for a date. Have you ever heard that? Heard that phrase? Looking for a date?

Me: Yes. Heard it. Not used it.

Him: Well, I had never heard it. So when she said that, I asked did she know anybody up there, you know, around Pine and Peoria. Because I didn’t see how she was going to get a date if she didn’t know anybody.

Me: You didn’t know how she was going to get a date.

Him: Yeah. That’s what I told her. And she said, well, really she just wanted to give somebody head for money.

Me: Head. For money. And did you know what that meant? 

Him: (Looking slightly offended.) Of course I knew what that meant. And I said, no, ma’am! I don’t do that. I am definitely not interested in anything like that. Nope. Not me. Not a bit.

Me: What’s going to happen to you when I die? Answer me that, will you?

And of course he couldn’t. Suddenly, I’m very uncomfortable with dying. That man is 63 years old. He’s not going to get any smarter.

Nothing I can do now but outlive him.

Advertisements

1 Comment »

  1. It is amazing to me that these men grew up in the Age of Enlightenment, The Age of Aquarius, The Summer of Love and still can be so clueless. I know so many of them. Maybe their minds are blank from extensive heroin abuse in their youth. Or they have found Nirvana or Black Sabbath. Maybe it is Viagra. Grow a weanie, lose a marble.
    Very funny article again, Carol. Love and hugs.

    Like

    Comment by pony-tale girl. — June 27, 2016 @ 8:20 am | Reply


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Female Serial Killers

A psychologist explores the minds of women who murder

%d bloggers like this: