Saturday, July 11, 2009 @9:34 AM
Here I am, blogging with that mess of a girl sprawled on the McDonald's table next to me. What the heck she's gone to do, goodness knows. I don't want to even guess. She stank of cigarette smoke and her hands were black from the messed makeup on her face. God, she looked like she could use bleach on her face and still not clean it off!
All I did was to be at the wrong place at the right time. Some friends of mine decided to go to Zouk after dinner and I hitched a ride with them, needing some time outdoors. But right at the entrance, I felt repulsed by it. The throngs of people, looking the same, stinking of cigarette smoke, the girls with faces so painted I am certain they will die of skin cancer... I needed time out in the night to destress, not to socialize with this painted and lacquered crowd.
As I was heading off on my own, I saw that silly cat-petting neighbor of mine. She was dressed just like one of those skin cancer potentials, but she was crying and stumbling along. A man was pulling her down the street. Must be the boyfriend, I thought. Well, so much for a hot night out eh? It must have sucked to end the night in tears and have him drag you out...
As I was turning to leave, I saw her suddenly reach in my direction. She was crying and seemed to try to say something. The man pulled her away, not looking where she was going but seeming more intent on heading for his car. They hadn't gone very far when she tripped on her heels and fell on her face. There she laid, snivelling and bawling, while the man gave an exasperated sigh and turned to pick her up. She waved him away but he grabbed her by the shoulders and made her sit up.
Dear neighbour, you do look like hell, I thought. Just to make sure, though, I walked over to the man and introduced myself. He did not look too happy. I asked if he was sending her home, and he gruffly said yes. I asked if he knew where she lived, and he said yes again. Feeling relieved, and somewhat thick-skinned, I asked him if he could give me a ride, since we live in the same block.
At this point, she puked on him. I shall not go into the details of what came out of her, but I can assure you that no man likes shiny leather shoes to be mucked. He cussed and shove her to me, then took off without a word. Guess he wasn't her boyfriend after all, I muttered. Gripping the mess by her elbow, we walked to the roadside where she sat bawling, on shoe missing, while I flagged down a cab, and directed it to the 24hr McDonald's near our block.
Yes, that's the bloody story. Here I sit with my MsSpicy and fries, and she took my Coke and drank it before I could say "HEY!". Then down went her head and now she's asleep on the table. What a mess she's gotten into and became. And now I am responsible. Blah....