My name is P. Plum. I'm a stay-at-home-mom, aka an unemployed artist,
and I'm thinking about starting a career in bond enforcement. Today is Friday.
I get up and toss some Oaty O's into kiddie bowls for the children.
After they ride away in the big cheese, aka the school bus, I jog home and take a
shower. After a shuffle through the sort-of-clean laundry, I grab an old stretchy black t-shirt
and black jeans. Five mintues later, in lip gloss, quick pony tale, and lucky earrings, I angle
out of the driveway and head past the Pizza Shop.
I meet Mac at the Mid-Con hub, also known as, Urban Branch. He's wearing
scuffed up jeans and a blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbow.
I can tell it's a rough day from the way he grips the scanner gun. I'm getting the feeling
he wishes it shot something besides a harmless red light. In the back room,
he tells me about the loonies of the day: Can-Opener Man is the newest--
but then they are still looking for the guy who hid all those empty video cases
in the ceiling tiles. Lona rolls her eyes and shakes her hands at me. I
know without one word, she is just thankful she didn't have to get out the
rubber gloves today.
Mac puts the gray Volvo in first, and we pull out of the lot-- deeper
into the Zonerhood. Across the street from the hospital squats the the Baked Chicken place. The smell of transfat on underdone veggies attracts a lot of health nuts. I'm planning on sneaking over to the Wiseguy's Bagel and Dime next door while Mac is eating his rubber chicken. While I'm trying to decide whether I'll get a tub of veggie cream cheese, or strawberry, or maybe both, Mac rams the brakes.
A guy dressed like the Statue of Liberty waves an Oreo pie under my nose through the passenger side window. "Five Dollars!" he shouts. We both shrug.
Mac rolls the Volvo forward a little to scare him off. The pie slams into my face.
"Nice day to have the windows open," I say plucking crust out of my hair. An Oreo sticks
to my eye like an eye patch. "Babe, you look like a really old pirate."
Mac smiles and sides the Volvo up the Chicken/ Bagel complex. I get out
then I shout, "I'm getting a dozen!" and storm off to my cream cheese haven.
Sometimes the Zonerhood really gets to me.