Part 30
As full disclosure goes Lazaro thought I was a New York Times best selling author. I must have impressed him with the air I carried myself with.
He taunted me with his story and I bitch slapped him with my novel.
As he melted to the floor I forced his gaze up at me with deliverance.
The gospel I delivered to him churned in his skull for what seemed to be an eternity. "Don't be such a cunt dude."
While I had his attention I drilled into him this wisdom.
"Hey Fucker, if someone shows you their true colors weave them a flag and fly it in honor of your freedom, fuck the rest."
Stern words but this guy was on the edge and I was hell bent on rescuing him.
I've never been able to deliver my messages subtlety, if I speak to you, you will know you've been spoken to.
His blank stare sheepishly began to recite syllables and consonants that dead ended in me figuring out this was Pulitzer worthy.
Knowing that my superpower was listening, I went into the phone booth and came out Pen in Hand.
Stroking the ego of a helpless victim is the only way to extricate the venom from their veins and ink it onto my pages.
This guy crossed me with his bullshit and I would curse him into my scripture.
"Poet our relationship got stale and we began to skate on the thin parts of the ice."
Strip clubs turned into strippers and strippers turned into friends.
That cold shoulder got old so we adopted a girlfriend and the lifestyle grew.
Then we found rope and the headboard held.
To be continued.
