Yesterday my boy Willie B. hooked me up with a blind date. I met her in a gas station McDonald’s for an early supper. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at in front of me: this divine angel with the form fitting blue jeans and the tight fitting black NASCAR T-shirt, her cleavage bare for the world to see every time she leaned over and swirled her greasy fries in her paper cup ketchup. Titties about to pop out at any second. My eyes were dancing, my mind wandering about the mysteries behind her black bra every time she spoke, which was whenever she wasn’t eating.

It had been awhile since yo boy got with anything that didn’t charge, so I was excited as she talked on and on about her life, her titties bouncing as she swayed her head from side to side. My little man stood at attention, and I excused myself, shuffling my way back to the bathroom.

I pulled a pen out my pants pocket and drew a dick on the clean wall, revealing the ugly truth about the women’s restroom.I walked in that nasty motherfucker, the smell of piss choking me as some man with old leather shoes farted behind a locked toilet stall. I looked on the walls, frantically searching for a condom machine. Shit fire, they didn’t have no condom machines in the damn McDonald’s.

I walked out, past my blind date, who asked me, “So, where you going Jimmy James?”

I stopped and stared at her, at those cock sucking lips, painted hot glitter pink, drawn into an incredible smile like a Mento’s commercial. “Baby,” I said, staring at those pale mounds of joy, “I’m going to get some smokes at the gas station. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a bite out of her double cheeseburger.

I strutted through the glass doors that led into the gas station, past the clerk who stared at me like I was a villain or some shit, and broke into a run for the men’s room. I tried to open the door, but the damn thing was locked.

“Open this damn door!” I shouted, my hands pounding on the wood. “This is an emergency!”

“I’m in here,” came a muffled voice.

“Man, I’m gonna shit my pants!” I screamed, kicking at the door.

“Fuck off,” he said.

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“Fine, have that on your conscious then, cocksucker,” I replied, rushing to the women’s room.

I reached for the door, and the gas station attendant started cussing at me.

“No, no!” he shouted. “No, you cannot go into ladies room.”

“Stop me then,” I said, opening the door and slamming it behind me. I locked the doorknob and stared around this strange paradise that smelled of peaches and pine forest. It was painted a lovely blue, and there was no boogers on the wall or piss on the floor. I’d never been in anything quite like this. I could hear a Hall and Oates song clearly playing from the speakers. It was magical. Until I approached the condom machine over the toilet and looked into the bowl.

The water was bloody and a green tampon wrapper floated lifeless in the sea of red. I almost threw up but inspiration overtook me. I could feel the sudden artistry bubbling inside, so I pulled a pen out my pants pocket and drew a dick on the clean wall, revealing the ugly truth about the women’s restroom.

I reached back inside my pockets for some change and came up empty. Motherfucker, I thought, staring at the 75 cents sign above the quarter slots.

I heard banging on the door, and I got nervous as hell.

“You get out! You get out now!” came the sales clerk’s voice.

I could feel sweat trickling down the crack of my ass as I unlocked the door and turned the knob.

“You go now!” he shouted. “You go right n—” he stopped, his eyes widening in surprise.

“You drew dick on my clean wall!” he roared. “I call the police!”

“I didn’t draw no dick on your wall,” I said.

Man, he was furious. “You drew dick on my wall. Bastard! Get out!”

I stepped out the bathroom, watching him closely, making sure he wasn’t going to pounce on me, and got some distance between us. Then I asked him if he had change for a dollar.

“Devil!” he screamed. “I call the police!”

I ran into McDonald’s, saw my blind date, and she gave me the sexiest smile I’d ever seen.

I grabbed her hand, lifting her from her swivel chair. “Come on, baby,” I said. “Let’s leave this dump.”

She giggled and let me wrap an arm around her frail little shoulders. I led her out of the gas station and walked her across the street to the ABC Trailer Park.

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“You want to come inside?” I asked, all nervous like. It had been a year since I’d been with a woman who didn’t charge. “You maybe want to come in for an instant Nestea or something?”

“Sure,” she said, pressing up against me. I could feel her soft breasts smashed into my chest, and I’m sure she could feel my dick pressed up against her stomach.

I led her inside, sat her down on my couch and walked to the kitchen, pouring some ice cold Nestea from the frigerator.

I brought the glasses out and sat them down on the coffee table. She was laid up on that couch, her shoes off, and she had some sexy fucking feet. Toenails painted lime green. I took a seat beside her, and she snuggled up to me.

The dream suddenly died. I could smell her beside me, and she had a stank booty.

“So, what you wanna do?” she asked, her fingers dancing up my pants leg.

“I…uh, I’m kind of tired,” I said, trying not to breath. Trying not to smell her. She smelled like doo doo and cats. Like the house of a recluse who lives with ten or eleven cats she refers to as her family members.

I reached for my Nestea, trying hard not to gag.

Her hands cupped her breasts. She licked her lips.

“Well, I got to go to bed, sugar,” I said, stretching. “I got a long day at the office tomorrow.”

“I thought you said you were a writer,” she said.

“No, I mean my real job. I got to go to the fast food joint and fry up some burgers, baby.”

Want me to go to bed with you?” she asked, breathing in my ear.

I could smell her ass. It smelled like the showers in prison. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Get the fuck out!” I choked, standing up and pulling her off the couch.

I opened the door and led her outside.

“Bye,” she said.

“Bye,” I said, watching her as she walked away. Watching that immaculate ass swishing until it was a fading memory in the setting sun.

Maybe I’d call her tomorrow. After she washed that ass off.

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