Yesterday started like most days: I woke up on the floor in the corner of my room holding a mostly empty bottle of tequila and wiped away the salt residue from last night’s tears. But it didn’t take long before the day took a very strange turn.
You know how pedestrians in Santa Cruz always think they have the right of way? Even when you’re half way through the damn intersection, they just step right in front of you. I think every fucking person in this town missed the day in Kindergarten when turn taking was discussed. They were probably on strike that day.
Anyways, I was dropping someone off downtown, which involved navigating the excruciatingly frustrating one-way dead-end sonofabitch that is Pacific Ave. I sat at a stop sign as a bus load of normal folks crossed in front of me. Just when the last of the crowd stepped out of my way and I’m about to start moving again, a seemingly homeless, rag adorned gentleman stepped off the curb causing me to stop once again.
Forgetting my window was cracked open, I asked aloud, to no-one in particular, “Are you fucking kidding me?”.
Clearly hearing me, my new homeless friend turned toward my car, made eye contact with me and yelled, “I AM FUCKING KIDDING YOU!” It was at this point that he unzipped his pants, protracted his apparatus, and slapped his long floppy black cock against the hood of my car.
Before I had time to ask myself what the hell had just happened, he had re-holstered his salami and finished crossing the street. I sat there in a confused stupor for a few more moments until the car behind me began honking.
I then proceeded to buy myself another bottle of tequila. Thank you, Santa Cruz.
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