The Girl Cop and the Doorman

Yesterday I sat in a teashop decorously minding my very own business when a beefy girl and a slender boy sat down next to me.

She was a police academy probie. He was a night doorman. He thought she was hot. She thought he was not. He was trying to woo her by asking a lot of offensive questions about what it was like to be a girl cop. She was trying to get him to leave by telling him the same story over and over and over again.

The fifth time I heard the story, I began to get peeved. This was an unorthodox way to shake off a loser. The guy seemed quite desperate. What if she stalked off and he transferred his affections to me when she left?

The tenth time I heard the story, I was fully fed up. I whipped around and was about to let loose a volley of all the new words I’ve learned in New York when I saw they had books in their hands.

Scripts, actually.

I went back to decorously minding my business.

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~ by stultiloquence on October 30, 2007.

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