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The taller of the two figures looks straight at me and says,
“Is there something I can help you with?!”
He seems a little annoyed. I try to play it light,
“Um, your extension cord is showing…hee, hee…”
The shorter one frantically begins looking over the bundle. The droplets of sweat that have accumulated on his forehead spill to the ground in a salty typhoon for any passing by ants to enjoy. He spies the extension cord and reaches for it with one hand.
“No! Stop! We are dropping it!” the Tall one grits through his teeth.
The bundle starts to shift in their arms. Both men grasp for purchase, but gravity reaches up and yanks the package hard from their limbs. It hits the ground like a 300 pound professional wrestler hitting the mat in an over exaggerated, yet somewhat aerodynamic, death fall.
The metallic thunk reverberates off the pavement and bounces off the apartment walls.
The tall one hisses, “Jesus, we are going to wake up every make-up wielding dateless chick in the neighborhood!”
“Hey!” I said indigently. “Do not, and I mean, DO NOT call me a dateless chick! I am a dateless woman!”
“Sorry,” the Tall one replies.
Suddenly all eyes look at the plastic bag lying on the ground, which is now tiger stripped shredded from the contents within. What looks like a rather large lava lamp wearing a Christmas turtleneck is revealed. It also has two big hubcap wheels on the bottom of it, and two antenna sticking out of the top of it. The largest extension cord ever protrudes from a small compartment on it’s…butt? Duct tape is randomly stuck to it here and there.
“Poop on a stick, she has seen it!” hisses the Smaller one.
“Well, you know what we have to do now…” Tall replies with a rather wicked grin on his face.
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