According to the friendly neighborhood cuckoo with whom I was in line at Dunkin' Donuts this morning, I need to get my ass on the runway. Now, I don't know this cat personally, but I "know" him from seeing him out my window and in the hood walking, smoking. The nickname we have for him is Puff Puff Step. Or Puff Step Puff. He looks a lot like a 60+ year old Humpty Dumpty with flood pants belted way up high, greyish white hair, blue eyes, and zipper teeth. He's very friendly, and I've seen him talking to the ladies before whether or not they cared for it.
Today as he was waiting for his change, I looked at him and smiled. With a wide grin he said immediately and matter of factly:
"You could be a model making $4,000 and hour."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah four thousand."
"Wow. Thanks. Guess I'm in the wrong line of work."
"Yeah Jackie Six Four Two Forty, Six Four Two Forty."
Um...right. I don't know what he meant by that last line, and then I remembered he's a crazy person. Receiving a compliment from a crazy person I suppose should be taken with a grain of salt, but considering that I had wet hair and no make up --because my boss wears wrinkled gym shirts to work, and I've simply given up on life in general--it was a compliment nonetheless.
As I walked out of Dunkin Donuts, he had seated himself by the door. "Be a good model," he said.
"Ok, I will. Bye."
"Jackie Six Four Two Forty."
"Ok."
4 comments:
The good thing is at least you know he's crazy now. Normally it takes a few dates...
that's true. but he'd tell me how beautiful i am all the time, and that's not a bad thing.
Careful. You've now posted that numerical sequence. The government will hunt your ass down.
He's waiting for you to hike the ball. Gotta be an ex-quarterback with brain damage with that snap count.
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