A Deep Thinker
I got out of my truck and stopped in
surprise. A woman was standing there. She was gorgeous, a real looker. She wore tight, hip-hugging jean shorts and a navy blue
halter-top that showed off her smooth stomach. I was starting to think
this was my lucky day.
“You took my
space,” she said.
I blinked. “Excuse
“You can’t park
here. It’s my space.”
What in the world…
“You mean the parking space?”
“Yes. It’s. My.
My luck seemed to be
turning sour. Typical. “Why’s that?”
In reply, she reached
into her pocket and brought out a syringe. “This.”
I stepped back.
“What’s in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like
to know? If you don’t get out of my space, I’ll inject you.” She
I moved back but
bumped into my truck. “Listen, lady, this is a public parking lot. You
have no right to tell me where I can or can’t park.”
She waved the needle
and took another step forward. She was now within arm’s reach. “Move
your vehicle now, or I stick you.”
“I’m not afraid of
needles. Go ahead and stick me.” Time to call her bluff. This was a real
pity, though. All those looks, and nothing upstairs. She was normally the
type I went for.
She smiled. “Are you
sure? I’ve got my own, HIV-tainted blood in here.”
Without another word,
I got into my truck and drove out of there. Sure, she was probably lying,
and crazy to boot, but why take a chance?
I’m no idiot.