www.LittleVillageMag.com CAB CULTURE
Said bodily fluids had been inside of your man but they came out inside the taxicab.” “And that’s a hundred bucks,” we say together like a church refrain. Flopping with a start against the passengerside windows, dude growls like a zombie while figuring out the door handle. Succeeding, he flops in the rear beside the girl whose eyes are burning at me like coal cinders. Dude closes his own eyes and his teeth are chattering. I ask: “You all cleaned out, dude?” Girl says, “You’re a asshole [sic].” “Tell it to the beef whistler, honey—I still need a hundred bucks or we’re not moving.” “I’m not talking to you,” she snaps, still pushing her eyes on me, “I’m talking to you.” She slugs her man in the shoulder and dude says something like, “Awassamahlagh?” “This is a hundred dollars and you have to pay him right now! Did you hear me?” Dude lays his head back, shuts his eyes tight, gurgles. “Fuck it,” she says, shoving him over to extract his wallet, whereupon he lets rip a great fart and causes himself to laugh. She sighs exaggeratedly and climbs into the front seat to hand me his credit card. Next, she’s leaning into the back to slug him some more, railing: “Three hours ago I told you to quit drinking—I’m going home, tonight was a date.” At dude’s place I run his card for the meter plus a hundred, plus a few bucks more to take girl her separate way, and we leave dude in the street hollering fuck yous but not before I tell him he should throw out his clothes. Next stop, I hump the curb rolling into girl’s driveway and immediately gear to R, ready to back out and haul ass for the car wash. My jaw hurts from mouth-breathing. I want to shower, and to brush my teeth. But girl is putting to me those hot coals she’s got for eyes. “So how much do you charge for other bodily fluids?” I’m obtuse with chicks so I ask her to spell it out. “He shouldn’t’ve turned me away hot. You want to plug in?” I tell her: “One time, a different time from this, I had a guy’s colostomy bag rupture where you’re sitting.” She slams the door with terrific force, yelling at the sky, “God, why are dude’s all such assholes!”
ednesdays W d r o W Spoken
Vic Pasternak likes to help people enjoy the consequences of their actions.
Nov. 7-21 2012 | Little Village
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