Finger prick

The last place someone like me (a rage-filled, man-hating shrew) needed to be was the town piss-scented police station, but there I was, getting my fingerprints taken for the third time this year because the powers that be at the Department of Defense judged me unworthy of current security status, and I have a new job and have to go through the rigamarole again, don't you know.

I was minding my own business, paying my fee, as some crackhead detoxed down the hall ("I need a bologna sandwich, fuck, that's all!") and a woman sobbed in the chair next to me.

He: you should have known better. What were you thinking? If I hadn't gotten there...

She: I'm so sorry, I know, I love you, I..I....(her words trailed off into snot-muffled sobs so I couldn't tell exactly what else she was saying, plus I was trying very hard not to eavesdrop. As if).

He: well, I guess you didn't try hard enough, and I can't even touch you because I'll contaminate the evidence and what were you thinking?

The man continued to nag and berate his too-young-looking girlfriend until the receptionist finally butted in, "Shut the hell up and stop discussing the case. Can't you just show a little compassion? Jeez."

Joy to the World.

1 comment:

Pookie Babcock Esq. said...

Even though you're a man-hating shrew, and I'm an everyoneandeverything-hating pig of a man, I need to tell you something. Take it for what it's worth.

Your entry today is the first thing in a long time where you used your talent. Most of your entries are fine and fluffy, but nothing more. This was different. This was real writing. Evocative. Moving. You wowed me, man-hating skank whore bitch.

Take that hatred for my ilk and focus it on your writing. You'll be doing all us pigfuckingbastards a favor.