Liz Swiderski
April 14, 2004
English
Ms. Malia
"It's two-thirty." She cocked her head like she didn't believe me, which was a good idea on her part because it wasn't two-thirty. But what kind of question was that, anyway? I mean, the question was pretty dim-witted. I've seen many knock-outs like her and you know, their all dim-witted chits. I looked over again and she still had her knock-out-nothing head cocked with long blond hair flowing over one shoulder. Looking at the hair made me want to reach out and touch it because I know it would like soft and feathery but then I had to turn my head away because her mouth was wide-open which was well, it wasn't very attractive. I think her mouth was so big I could fit my whole . . . fist in it.
Anyway, it wasn't one of those really bright, sunny days actually there was a down pour. A down pour of water, you know rain, not cats and dogs. I never got that saying. I was admiring the rain and how it kind of cleans everything away and all when I heard the woman make some a sort rustling noise. I looked over and this time her head wasn't cocked anymore but she was sitting real tensely and looked directly into the street like one of those British guards with the furry black hats. I heard the rustling noise again when she scooted away from me. Then she gave me the eye and I finally realized she thought I was blind. I forgot I was wearing my sunglasses. I get a real bang out them.
They're old folk's sunglasses. You know when old folk's have sunglasses to fit over their prescription glasses, not the clip on ones. The bulky sunglasses that make you look like you have a box going around your eyes well, those were my sunglasses. No wonder she though I was blind I would think I was blind too if I saw me wearing the old folk's sunglasses in the middle of a down pour. So I decided to have a little fun with her but before I could she whispered "sorry" and hurried away.