Say It, Don’t Spray It

May 24, 2012 at 10:40 am (Cussed Dumbers)

So, where have I been? Well…

I got maced. More on that in a minute.

Is my life like the wreck shown here? Nah. That was a blip on the radar. I had more fun pretending to be mad so I could cuss out two drunken idiots who thought they were being funny. (“Ya wanna blow job with your cheap cigarettes too?” That was me shouting at them as a pretty girl walked in.)

It’s festival season downtown. I’m working at the Waterfront store these days. It’s a different bird. Basically four 12-hour days a week, including commute. I close the sucker down at midnight, sleep, return. It’s closest to a true grocery experience at Master P’s, and I’m comfortable with the routine. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for writing, though.

Days off? Jam-packed with socializing. I have managed to create a universe wherein I have TWO girlfriends. It’s not quite sitcom worthy, but there are challenges. Things were different when I just hung out with Meg and just saw Rain for booty calls. Now I do both with both, and thought they both know about each other, I have to dance delicately at times. No matter how open-minded we claim to be, jealousy occasionally rears its ugly rear.

But more on that later. I said something about a macing?…

Flash robberies were a thing recently, thanks to news media airing security footage of one near my house. These are not new. I’ve encountered them for decades. (It’s called lunchtime if you have a store near a high school.) A group of girls, quite adept at shoplifting, dropped in on me. I know them from the Nightclub store. They are well-mannered, well-dressed, hot as fuck. Maybe of legal age. Normally I am alone and can watch them. “You don’t have what we want, sorry.” They leave. This time I had a rep from a tobacco company giving away dollar-cigarette coupons. The line to see him caused lots of cacophony, and the girls made their move.

I waited until they had their hands on stuff, then walked up. Confiscated beef jerky and candy bars. Told them to leave. All began marching to the door, except for the last one. The cutest one. The one that looks like a teeny-tiny Niecy Nash. “Time to go.”

“Oh, YOU DI’UNT JUST PUT YO’ HANDS ON ME, DID YOU?” She tried to sound indignant, but needs to work on her acting skills.

“I’ll bust your fuckin’ head if you don’t get moving, missy.”

I gently guided her to the threshold of the store doors. She was rooting around in her oversized purse. I saw no merchandise or guns, so I wasn’t worried. Niecy’s friend from outside told Niecy to just hurry up.

“Nah, I’mma mace him.”

The words registered and I took a step back, just as she turned and sprayed. I grabbed the door and pulled it closed. The spray flew about two feet and fizzled out. (Pro tip: Don’t steal mace from the Dollar Store.) In the process of closing the door, I directed the majority of the mace-cloud into the face of the tobacco rep.

The irony was not lost on us.

Bottom line, I got a small case of sore lungs. Big Tobacco got it the worst, he said it felt like he’d been coughing for an hour straight. In all, we got through it unscathed with a good story.

Later, I watched the security video. They didn’t steal as much as I thought. I discovered new blind spots to watch. The coolest part? When Niecy was muling, aka putting her oversized purse into position for her friends to fill, she gave the cutest little hip-cock, like a lioness preparing to be mounted. I must have watched that move ten times. I hope she’s over eighteen, because that little hip movement has me obsessed. I don’t know if I want to spank her, fuck her or buy her dinner.

Maybe all three. In that order.

As long as I control the distribution of the pepper at dinnertime…


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