Sunday, November 21, 2004

Hypnotist Collector

The girl on table twenty-six is shockingly beautiful and she knows it.

Blonde, about thirty, she has a kick ass body and a face more beautiful than the all dreams of pornography.

The poor bastard she’s with is smitten. I can tell it’s a first date. He’s way over budget on the wine.

She gets up to go to the bathroom. I position myself by the register so I can drink in the sight of her ass when she returns to her seat.

While I'm waiting I can hear her talking on her cell phone in the bathroom. She is making arrangements to meet another guy for drinks after dinner. I’ll bet this girl hasn’t paid for a meal in years.

She exits the bathroom. I record some footage for the erotic cinema of my mind. They ask for a check.

When I drop the charge slip I overhear the guy asking her if she would like to go to a club. She says she has to go home. They exit. She gives him a peck on the cheek. He walks off disappointed.

She saunters off into a night of never ending promise.

As I watch her go an old Dylan song plays in my head:

You will start out standing, proud to steal her
anything she sees
You will start out standing, proud to steal her
anything she sees
But you will wind up peeking through a key hole
Down upon your knees

She wears an Egyptian ring, that sparkles before
she speaks
She wears an Egyptian ring, that sparkles before
she speaks
She's a hypnotist collector
You are a walking antique


Better to be alone than a collectible – or a meal ticket.



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