Man, I just made today’s first mistake.
I have been at my café all day, writing and philosophizin and drinking free coffee, and I’m on my way home just picking up some groceries. Then, at the little park in which I was robbed earlier – I am robbed again!
This time it’s not money they’re after. In fact, it’s not a them as much as it is a she. A blonde babe sitting there on a bench looking at me. I meet her eyes and she doesn’t even flinch. There’s a genuine connection.
What the eff should I do, standing there with my groceries and my cigarette?
TALK TO HER, of course.
But then there’s the catch. There’s always one.
Playing just beside her is a small, overly dressed and pretty occupied little girl aged 1-3. Damn. Why do girls always have to go and get themselves pregnant?
Is there not more to life than over-populating the surface of the earth with small, time-consuming, expensive and egocentric maniacs that shit all over the place? ‘course there is. There’s love-making, for one.
So I go on.
But my eyes think differently and I turn and she’s still looking at me.
And it’s not that look as if I was a duckbill platypus in the zoo.
Should I take the chance? I mean, it could just happen that it’s not her baby. That it’s just a stray baby just so happen to be in the premises of a beautiful, fair maiden.. That someone just left it in the street because it was taking too much room and always embarrassing the guests, you know how it is. At the tea party the little one sitting on the floor playing with her dolls suddenly decides that it can talk and it repeats what it heard the night before: "How do you like the cock you filthy slut?" and everyone blushes and tries very hard to believe that the baby is making it up, since grown-ups are not allowed to say that they occasionally meet the same way street dogs do.
But standing there I realize that this is just me hoping, and that hoping does not change the fact that this is a girl who’s looking at me and she’s sitting there with her baby.
I walk away.
It’s just when I’m putting the key in the door at home when a pang of remorse and self-loathing strucks me like God struck Job with bad arguments.
She’s the nanny!
Over-awed by my stupidity I duck inside to hide my shame and settle my grief with a pepperoni pizza and a beer. Apart from that it’s been a most productive and beautiful day. Here’s a picture of my new haircut by request.
Keep down the nazi references, please.