A bird hee-hawing outside my bedroom window woke me today around dawn. I washed up and headed out for a work out. The neighbourhood was its usual early morning dead self until I rounded the first corner from my place. On the sidewalk strolled a whore I have seen around lately and her apprentice young friend. The whore wore pink and white fish net stockings. Nice get up. Above her stockings white flesh beckoned like my backyard hee-haw bird.
The two of them were arriving to take care of a small construction crew before the crew's wives of arrangement showed up to help out around the work site.
I drove by real slow. The pink one made sucky-sucky-sucky face at me. She was not quite as hideous as most Steepleton whores. My love lay limp as a willow branch. I stepped on the gas.
Further up the road a speed freak was wearing a hole on the sidewalk in front of a dope house now often visited by Steepleton's finest speed freak chasers. The front yard looked like something out of an American newscast when I drove by two days ago.
The trouble with solving the problem of homelessness is the motherfuckers move next door.
Sonja and I both knew it was only a matter of time before Steepleton became indistinguishable from our old notoriously evil Bally neighbourhood of Sliverville we fled from years ago. But even I did not expect to see people smoking glass pipes in one corner of the neighbourhood ball park while children played ball in its opposite end. That was yesterday.
My town is fucked up.
I am finally starting to fit in.
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