So I have to tell you this!
It's the last half hour of work and this fella comes in. He's scruffy and has a freshly stamped out cigarette in his hand. As he stands in line I know he'll be my next customer. I just know it. He's about to step up to my window...but wait!....he raises his foot practically to his head. And there it is. His foot. Bare. Dirty - black almost....like his scruffy hair. "Look! No shoes!" he shouts. He walks his way up to my window. "Don't wear shoes. Don't like 'em. My ma tried to make me wear 'em when I was a kid. Hated it. No shoes on me!"
I really would have liked to chat with him, but his stale cigarette breath and stinky hair made my eyes water. It was worse than an onion effect. I tried looking away. Turning around. Fresh air! Anywhere! Anyone?!
Finally he left my window after getting a balance. Something he could have done from the ATM.
He left, the smell stayed, and the story is all that remains of this sole brotha.
2 comments:
Nice! I can totally picture this encounter!
"Bowler of the Year"
P.S. The email address you gave me bounced :-(
sorry! I think it's on my profile now. If not here: julisa.lyn@gmail.com
wonder how I wrote it wrong..well, it was raining and I was cold, and didn't have enough paper really.
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