with my headphones on and the volume loud i hardly notice the commotion out on the street until it must have been in full tilt for some minutes, because the noise of the yelling and carrying on finally got so loud that i took out my earbuds and had a look out the open second floor window of my little office.
up the street about 50 feet on the other side of traffic from our house, a long, thin woman with scraggling fake long yellow-blonde hair was hunched over screaming herself hoarse against the pane of a basement window. i squinted to see past the sun and could make out just a fragment of a pale soft male inner forearm and heel of hand of the person the blonde beanpole was spitting venom at on the other side of the glass. he was gesturing. possibly lewdly.
what ever it was he gesticulated made the woman on the street catapult up and out in an all-out explosion of hair and hands on the ends of raving arms and legs akimbo and purse and bags flying out then in again. she leaned in real close to the window. the man inside must have moved back some because i could no longer see any hint of skin there through the reflection.
“No!” the woman screamed. “You don’t FUCK me, force me to SUCK your DICK, then toss me out like i’m your GODDAMNED FUCKING WHORE.”
She collected her things from the pavement and began to stalk off the side of the curb, still screaming as she crossed the street through heavy, fast moving traffic. She turned back with a final venomous burst to leave him, and the rest of us on the street, with these words hanging strange and ugly before us for the rest of the afternoon.
“YOU have FUCKED with the wrong fucking BITCH, my FRIEND.”
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