Tuesday, April 19, 2005

I had a dream I was a prostitute in LA. The pimp took me and the other ho's shopping at this little boutique full of sparkly, fancy stuff. We were fuckin excited! Started laughing and madly clawing the dresses and shoes with our acrylic-nailed hands. We stopped when the pimp said, "Wait a minute. Y'all get to pick 3 things each. Hear me? 3 things." We resumed our clucking and clawing.

The first thing I went for was the underwear. Prostitutes go through underwear fast. John's wanna keep them, or sometimes I leave them there by mistake, or sometimes they just get so nasty I have to throw them away. So I picked this blue vinyl pair, thinking vinyl cleans up easy. And I could wear them like shorts, slip them over regular panties. Then right next to the underwear, I found this blue sequin dress that matched the vinyl undies.

Another one of the ho's (somebody I work with in real life) called me over to the shoes and pointed out a pair of blue, thigh-high boots. "Here, these'll go with your dress." She got a pair like them in black.

One by one, we began to bring our stuff up to the counter. The clerk folded our purchases and put them in boxes, while scanning the store with his eyes. Where the hell was our pimp? I was starting to get worried. There'd be no new clothes for the ho's if he didn't show his scarred-up face, soon. There was a hush throughout the boutique. Disappointed looks washed over the prostitutes' faces.

Then, our pimp came out of the back room sporting a crisp, new pinstripe suit. "Did my bitches miss me? I had to get a little somethin for myself." He grinned and pointed to his suit. And made his way to the counter, where he paid for our clothes.
posted at 10:05 AM |