Vermont, near Vermont Pl., E. Hollywood
"Well, ma'am, we're all done drawing blood, so if you'll just sit real tight we'll get you a little bandage. There you go. You might want to leave this on there for an hour or two, just in case it bleeds a little. What's that? Oh! Well, I suppose if there's a rule against bandages at your work you can cover it up with your sleeve. You don't wear sleeves? Okay. Well, what is it that you do? We can have the girls at reception type up a note for your boss. What is it? You'll have to speak a little louder, I couldn't hear you." She's a dental hygienist. A professional mover. A landscape artist. I'm not making fun of sex workers here, you know. I imagine it's a difficult job. I just know that Vermont Place is a street with many-a-hooker (see Hooker Trash below), and I wonder why someone would so hastily rip off his or her blood marked bandage and leave it on the street. "Hey sweet-haht [we're suddenly in Chicago]. Give me some of that-uh-that suga you got. Come a little closer. Oh god no. God no. You've gots a bloody bandage covering that pretty ahm of yours." Customer speeds off. Frustrated worker rips bandage off. Some light arm hairs accompany it to the street, then to the landfill, forever and ever amen. When will this post end? I need a closer. Hmm. Ta da!
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