Sunday, August 05, 2007

RED PUMPS

No need to undress. I am not going to pay you for something you won't do.

Then why am I here love?

To talk to me of course!

Right.

Haven't you heard of men who just want to talk?

Yea... they talk real dirty.

Oh... well you should watch more movies. Filled with men talking.

You know I am not a bartender, but as long as you... hey wait you better not be some ex-convict with no cash!

So you have been watching the box office.

I will take a chance on you.

For what?

For being a bartender and not your bitch.

Ok, I will take a shower now.

I thought you wanted to talk.

I shower before I sleep.

But... Ok whatever.

She sits on the couch and flips through the channels. Al Pacino is lying in bed with a girl in black suede, holding on to her like a two year old boy.

Hey... you were right. This movie has a guy... Did you watch this?

She curls up on the couch and watches Michelle Pfeiffer intently.

Hey... do you know which movie this is? You should watch it.

She wonders how waitresses with wrinkles make enough money to not be whores.

Ok, this movie is dead boring.

She goes over to the bed and grabs his deep blue jacket. She finds his wallet in the right pocket and quickly stuffs two, hundred dollar bills in her red bag.

Its definitely your first time love. Next time, go to a bartender and buy booze, not women.

She leaves the hotel room and runs down the fire exit. She hails a cab and quickly gets in. She wonders if he really just wanted to... nah he was taking a shower. The old fag would have definitely asked for anal. She gets off a little distance from a brown apartment block. Her red pumps shine brightly under the yellow street light. She smiles at the glamour of cherry red.

Eight-fifty miss.

She takes out a hundred dollar bill and notices red scribblings.

I didn't want to die alone. Thanks.