Chapter 7

Sometime I like to sit and pretend I’m doing something, you know, like reading the news paper, drinking coffee, eating breakfast, whatever, it doesn’t really matter since you’re just pretending. And while I’m pretending I watch. I watch the people around me, the people walking past, the people standing around, I watch everyone. Not in a wearing a pair of dark glasses, baseball cap pulled down low, box of doughnuts next to me, and binoculars or camera fixed to my eyes, kind of way. Nope, I’m not a stalker, just a watcher. As idiotic and annoying as people tend to be, they are still fascinating, and the most fascinating of all are those who don’t know I’m watching. You know the type, they’re walking down the street, lost in the crowd, being pulled along by the sea of people around them, and they have their cell phones fastened to their ears. Now generally if they were at home, or at work, having a conversation on their phones they’d be very secretive. Yet out in the crowd of strangers its as if they think if they don’t know you you’re deaf. Sound logic, but as I said, people tend to be morons. “What do you mean I have herpes? No they weren’t strangers, they were strippers.” Yup no one heard that buddy. Now we all know you’re just class. You may have an expensive suit on, hair that looks like it’s all yours and immaculately cut and styled, you may be waving around your keys, with their BMW key ring flashing around, your brown leather wallet could be filled with cash, credit cards, pictures of the wife, kids, new born baby and Fluffy the dog who likes to be called “Killer”, you may be off to fetch the mother in law to have her over for that lovely home cooked meal you’re wife slaved over all day, but when you think no one is paying attention - then you’re class comes shining through like that first ray of light under the blinds in the morning that blinds you as you open your sleeping eyes. Herpes from strippers. That’s plural. That’s class. All class. God I love days that start like this.