On The Streets Of St.Louis.
Kat and I have developed a game. See, many of the streetwalkers stay in generally the same area. They wander around, bumping into each other, and occasionally even doing things that normal people would do: picking up a paper, rummaging through the trash. We even thought we saw one of the homeless people doing this, and considering the state of this woman before, we couldn't be sure if she was a streetwalker or still her old self.
Kat started it. She pointed out a female and male streetwalker who'd been walking around the corner where the hot dog stand is set up; or what is left of it. The female bumped into the male and Kat says: "Oh, excuse me. I didn't see you there."
The male tripped and fell down, then stumbling back to its feet. It turned back toward the female and stood there, rocking back and forth. "Not at all," I said in a chirpy British accent. "Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't downed that bottle of scotch."
The female turned and walked away. I shouted: "Well... well, fine then! Knock a guy over and don't even offer him a shag?"
Little vignettes of normalcy. God, we need to raid the rest of the building for books, DVDs, music, anything. I'm already bored with everything I've found here. That, and we need to find food. But everyone's afraid to be on the 19th floor and have the power go out or otherwise find out they got in. We couldn't know if any other floors were secure; we know the 12th floor isn't thanks to our friend Bob Scheifler, the accountant.
Kat started it. She pointed out a female and male streetwalker who'd been walking around the corner where the hot dog stand is set up; or what is left of it. The female bumped into the male and Kat says: "Oh, excuse me. I didn't see you there."
The male tripped and fell down, then stumbling back to its feet. It turned back toward the female and stood there, rocking back and forth. "Not at all," I said in a chirpy British accent. "Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't downed that bottle of scotch."
The female turned and walked away. I shouted: "Well... well, fine then! Knock a guy over and don't even offer him a shag?"
Little vignettes of normalcy. God, we need to raid the rest of the building for books, DVDs, music, anything. I'm already bored with everything I've found here. That, and we need to find food. But everyone's afraid to be on the 19th floor and have the power go out or otherwise find out they got in. We couldn't know if any other floors were secure; we know the 12th floor isn't thanks to our friend Bob Scheifler, the accountant.
