Every Thursday morning I usually have to scurry over to the bank to cash a few checks and get to the dry cleaners so that I can have everything ready by the weekend. I really shouldn’t be telling the whole world my routine---because that’s a stalker’s dream. The next thing you know, I’ll see Mikey driving behind me on my way to the bank with his oversized wood paneled station wagon waiting to pounce on his prey. (That’s if his car makes it all the way to New York…) Don’t let Kathi fool you either. She’ll be the one driving in a huge Ford pick up truck with a bunch of lawn mowers in the back waiting in the parking lot for me to come out of the drive-thru, so she can make her move. (I hope I can at least convince her to mow my lawn for the love of God…) It’ll be well worth being the stalked victim.
As I pull up to the bank’s drive-thru, I notice a young boy greets me at the window. He was probably around twenty-two years old, tall, lanky with dark hair. He looked like one of those, ‘I’ve been playing video games all my life-wanna be a banker so I can hack into their system’ type of kid. He looked painfully smart, and painfully desperate for a date.
“Good morning!” He pipes through the loud speaker—which sounds much like the one at McDonald’s. Yeah go ahead—now you know I’ve indulged in a little Micky D’s.
"Morning..." I replied, as I slipped my checks into the canister.
For some reason, I always turn down my stereo—even if it’s low. Have you ever waited online at a bank inside, and you can literally hear everything that goes on in the car being served at the drive-thru? It’s almost embarrassing, because these people don’t even realize they’re talking loudly, or blaring their thug music all over God’s creation. The entire bank is bouncing to Snoop Dog.
Needless to say, I remain quiet and still; for the fear of someone noticing my horrible selection of music. I wait for the geeky kid to come back with his oversized dress shirt that looks like he just ripped off from his daddy. New jobs are tough—you have to dress the part. I don’t think anything would fit perfectly on his pencil thin frame, but I betchya’ he’s a nice boy. I think I recall him delivering my pizza once or twice…
“There ya go! Hey, it’s beautiful out today, huh?” He says, in his nasally voice through a can-like tube microphone.
“Ah, yeah—definitely try to get out if you can!” I said, trying to end the conversation gracefully.
“I get off at four. But I usually work out at the gym after work right around the corner.”
“Oh, I’m a member there too. It’s funny, I do the same thing—it’ll be the most gorgeous day, but I prefer the gym rather than exercise outside…”
“Well maybe I can meet up with you at four then?”
I so didn’t want this conversation to go there. I have to be at least ten years older than this kid, (maybe 15--shuddap!!!) and besides that—I was having a horrible hair day with no make up. If you really think about it though, if I were single and wanted to date a child, he’d totally know what I would look like if he woke up next to me. Then again, I didn't want to be on the list of sex offenders in my neighborhood.
*SHAKES HEAD FRANTICALLY!*
No. I didn’t think about it. Don’t even go there. I was actually flattered beyond belief that a young kid wanted to meet me at the gym.
Questions that I have to ask myself:
1. Does he think I need to get my big ass to the gym?
2. Does he need someone to spot his skinny ass while he lifts those five pound barbells?
3. Does this kid even own…ummm….a cornea?
“Thank you so much for offering! I would, but I don’t get off work till 7pm. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime!” What an outright lie! Thou shall not lie. Oh I am breaking all the rules here folks. What a bad girl I turned out to be.
“No problem---hopefully we’ll see each other again!” He says.
“I’m here every Thursday…” I said, laughing my way out of that drive-thru.
This guy’s got nothing on the cobbler. He didn’t even invite me to his…umm….his dad’s house to use the hot tub. I could have played tons of video games and ate pizza with a bunch of banker wannabes.
I need to go deflate my head now.
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