By Bob Borgogno
As usual we were finishing off our morning vodka. My boyfriend Rick, who had piercing ice-blue eyes to go with his dark hair and his high-school-wrestler’s body, looked over at me and asked, “Are you ready to go to the vitamin store?” This was his way of saying “liquor store.”
I took the last sip out of my glass, put on my shoes, and said, “I’m ready. Do you have your wallet?”
He checked his pockets and said, “No. Will you look over there?”
It was slightly covered by Inches magazine. “Found it,” I said, and off we went.
Neither one of us felt like walking down the street for six blocks, so we decided to take the train. In the end, it would only save us two blocks of walking. The train pulled up just as we got to the platform, and five minutes later we were at our stop.
It was going to be a beautiful day! The sun was just starting to warm up the spring morning as we began to walk the final two blocks to our destination. We were both slightly buzzed and laughing about Rick’s dad and how he used to pee anywhere and everywhere when the urge hit him. There is something about springtime that has strange affects on people.
When we were about half a block away from the liquor store, there was a large—I estimated a 293-pound woman—crossing the street. She stumbled over the curb and onto the sidewalk. As we got closer, we could plainly see she had been waiting a long time for the liquor store to open. She was wearing a heavily stained moo-moo, or maybe it was just various shades of yellow and brown. Her short light brown hair was all ratty and nappy looking and had a few leaves in it here and there. This wasn’t anything unusual to see; however, as we closed the gap between her and us, we could clearly see small chunks under her mouth, down her chin, and on the part of her moo-moo that covered her hefty left tit.
It looked like she had been in a cottage cheese eating contest! Rick and I stopped, we were speechless, and we tried to figure out if what we were seeing was actually real. Then to confirm she was real, she asked in a drunken garble, “Do you have any toilet paper? I think I shit myself.“
This was the most repulsively hilarious thing I had every seen in my life!
“Nope,” Rick said and we started walking again. We laughed so hard we had to lean on each other to keep from falling down.
We stopped outside the liquor store to gain our composure. Then we went in and purchased our usual half gallon of the second cheapest vodka they sold. We wouldn’t normally be so cheap, but we also had to place our order with our freelance-pharmaceuticals agent.
When we started walking back the way we came, we decided to take the bus that stopped a little way up the street. In all her glory, moo-moo lady was at the stop talking to three other people. I figured she was still searching for some toilet paper or any paper for that matter, so I tore off a large piece of the paper bag our vodka was in. Then I went up and held it out to her. She looked at it slightly confused and asked, “What am I gonna do with that?”
I replied, “I thought you needed some paper.”
“Toilet paper!” she snapped back.
While laughing hysterically, I walked back to where Rick was standing. “Oh my god!” I said, “I hope this bus comes soon!” It did about two minutes after I said that. Rick and I got on, then three people that had been there when we got there, and Christ on a cracker, the bus driver let that nasty moo-moo lady on too!
Ugh! She stank up the entire bus and traveling by bus would take the longest to get us back to Rick’s apartment.
We finally got home. Rick poured us a drink, and we went over the excursion we had been on.
“Shit, man” Rick said, “you’ve got to start carrying a camera.”
Gay Writes is a DiverseCity Series writing group, a program of SLCC’s Community Writing Center. The group meets the 2nd and 4th Monday of each month, 6:30 to 8 pm, 210 E. 400 South, Ste. 8, Salt Lake.