Jul 06 2008
Fuck Me Pumps
I was on my way to my weekly appointment with Striker when I decided to pick up some Kleenex at the drug store, seems how I had been fighting to keep the snot in my nose the whole bus ride to Felton. I click clocked up and down each isle in my paten leather heels when a sales woman asked if I needed help finding anything. Before I could answer her question she interrupted herself and asked, What are you all dressed up for?
I’m not dressed up, I’m just not from these parts. I laughed, that sounded kinda stuck-up didn’t it? I’m just going to have some work done on my tattoo.
He must be cute, or you wouldn’t be wearing those Fuck Me pumps. I beg your pardon? I said as I thought to myself, when have I ever begged someone’s pardon?
Are you going to see Striker?
Small town.
He’s so cute! You wouldn’t believe how many cute guys come into this store. I’m like toothpaste, huh? So you brush your teeth I see…That’s Hot!
I think I’ll just go to the bathroom and grab some toilet paper.
Wait, she said digging into her pocket. Take these napkins, I got at the coffee shop.
That’ll work, I said shoving the snot rags into my purse. Well thanks.
Have fun, hope you get Fucked, she hollered.
I walked into the shop and told Striker about his secret admirer at the drug store.
Oh, yeah, I know that chick. She came up to me, lifted her skirt and showed me two little bees she wanted colored in on her ass.
Oh my god, that’s my move! Oh my god, I’m that girl!
Sometimes the universe holds up a big mirror and says look at yourself!
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