Tuesday, February 20, 2018

10,548. JUICY LUCY

JUICY LUCY
No, not that, you jerk. She
worked on a sun-farm in
Florida - orange groves and
all that. Always wearing a
bright bandana and singing
Linda Ronstadt stuff. Gawd, 
no! I drove her home once, in
my 1984 Ford truck. She was
pleased but jumped right out
and ran inside. I figured she was
as scared of me as I was scared
of her. But isn't that how, 
sometimes, people meet and 
never part? What was I doing 
there; wasn't that you're question?
I was a guard at the dog pound.
Maybe a hundred bucks a week,
for about 24 hours work; standing
around, occasionally picking up
strays. When I got hired I made
it clear that I wasn't into the idea
at all of taking their dogs away
from people. I don't care the 
situation, just wanted none of
that. They said OK; not much
call anyway; here in Florida, the
problems dog are just let loose, 
and we get them anyway. And
then I understood better what he
meant when I let that girl run
out of my truck.

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