Breathless Beauty

The three college students' names were Tom, Mike, and Derek. They were young, ambitious, and full of testosterone. Lots of it.    

They rode in my taxi every weekend, going from the dorms to off-campus parties. For them, the party always started at the dorms.

After months of giving them rides, a strange event took place. The Three Drinkateers wanted me to meet their girlfriend.
 
I remember it well.....
 
It was extremely busy. I was chasing calls when my phone rang. The Booze Brothers needed a ride to another party. Luckily, I wasn't too far away.
 
When I arrived to the dorms, the guzzlers had tipped a few and English had become their second language.

A brunette with nice curves and a flirtatious smile was with them. Tom grabbed the woman and literally threw her into the cab. I was shocked and disgusted. I was going to remind Tom he should treat women with more respect, but I paused and scrutinized her more closely.
 
She was attractive,.....a real looker. In fact, she was a doll.
 
An inflatable doll.

 
The party-goers hopped in. I looked at the woman,.....then back at Tom. I muttered a sarcastic, "Uh-huh?"
 
Tom laughed. "We have a new girlfriend."
"So I see."
"Bobby, this is Mabel. Mabel, this is Bobby."
"Mabel? You're kidding, right?"
"No, we're not kidding."
"Cute, real cute."
"There's one thing we do like about her."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"She's a really good listener.
"Yeah, and she never argues with you," they chimed.

The predictable one-liners continued until we arrived to the party. Tom asked if I could pick them up later. I wasn't sure, since it was so busy.

 
At 2:45AM, my phone rang. I answered, and Tom was shouting at me. I could hear loud music playing in the background. He told me they were ready to leave.
 
When I got to the party, the trio was waiting out front. I noticed a change in their logistics. Mabel was with them, but she looked unhappy and dejected. I'd even say she looked,.....uh,.....deflated.

They all said hello. Mark and Derek were speaking a garbled version of Esperanto. I tried to understand what they were saying, but it was useless,- like an ashtray on a motorcycle.
 
I looked at Mabel. Her hair was disheveled and her beautiful smile was gone.
She was a mess.
 
I looked at Tom and he laughed.
"What can I say? We passed her around tonight!"
 "Oh. I see."
"Yep! Mabel had one helluva' night!"
"Sounds like quite a party."
"It was."
 
A few minutes passed and curiosity got the better of me.
"So,.....what happened to her?"
"Who, Mabel?"
"Yeah, her."
 
Tom explained Mabel's plight.

"Well, she was sitting on the sofa and some guy tried sitting down next to her but he sat on top of her! He had a pen in his pocket, and, well,.....that was all she wrote,.....so to speak."

 
I groaned. "Oh, brother."
 
Derek joined in.
"Yes,.....we learned something very important!"
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"We learned that the pen.....is truly mightier than the sword!"

 
I asked Tom what they would do with Mabel.

"Well, I thought we'd let you keep her.

I was befuddled.

"What the hell am I going to do with her?!
"We don't care. It's our gift to you!"

 
I was too tired to argue. I'd throw Mabel into the nearest trash bin anyway. Tom smiled and nodded. "Good! You'll have tons of fun!"
 
Well,.....maybe not that much fun.
 
They got out and left Mabel on the back seat. She had a strange grin on her wrinkled face. Finally, there might be some truth to the saying that women age faster than men.
 
I left the campus and nervously drove down the boulevard, praying my yellow brothel on wheels would go unnoticed by the local police.

 
I could see it all now. I'd try to explain the deflated damsel, pleading my case to a frowning Sergeant,.....at 3AM. "Really sir, she's not mine.....I promise!"
 
I found a location to dispose of the body, a trash bin in a dark alley. No formal services, however. The ceremony I held for Mabel was like my cooking, - quick and easy.

 
I nervously drove away, expecting the police helicopter's spotlight to shine down on me at any moment.

Suddenly, I remembered I made plans with someone special for the following night.
 
Who was it? My girlfriend.
 
She was attractive,.....a real looker. In fact, she was undeniably beautiful.
 
But, she wasn't a doll.
 
I promise.




Source: The Lighter Side of Yellow

Special thanks: http://photopin.com

Flimsy Whimsy

I met many colorful personalities while driving a taxi. I never knew who or what would get into the back seat. That's an understatement, trust me. 

It was early evening on a spirited Halloween. Business was booming and I had no time for a lunch break. On this particular night, the bars were in full swing and party-goers were out in full force.  

I received a call on my computer. The pick-up address was a local residence. It was getting dark and children were wandering the neighborhoods.

I pulled up to the house and didn’t see anyone outside. I waited a minute or two. Nothing. I honked the horn a few times, announcing my arrival.
 
Then it happened.....
 
The front door of the house slowly opened, and a strange spectacle appeared.
 
He was wearing a silky white dress, high heels, and a wig with long, red locks. His make-up was meticulously layered. If it weren’t for his five o’clock shadow, he could have passed for a woman.

Nevertheless, this vision of loveliness was not a man. This semi-sensual spectacle was, by all accounts, a woman. Or so, he thought.
 
He seductively strolled over to my taxi and I opened the door for him,.....uh,.....her.
 
He had a slinky gait, not because of his sexiness. No, it was because the drinking had already begun.
 
He sloppily asked, “Will this ride be expensive?” I couldn’t resist having some fun. Matter-of-factly, I said, “No, not at all. In fact, tonight we're having a two-for-one special. Two people get to ride for the price of one!”

He looked at me, slightly puzzled. I just smiled.
 
Unfortunately, my humor went over his head and he got into the back seat. We set off to our destination, a Halloween party in the neighboring city.

Eventually, the silence was broken when he spoke to me in an exaggerated female voice. He had completely transformed from a man to a woman. 

 
A slightly inebriated woman.

 
The sultry siren quizzed me. “Do you know who I am?”

I was fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

“No. Who are you supposed to be?”

 
The distressed damsel shrieked. “What?! You don’t know?! Surely, you must know who I am!"
 
I perked up in my seat. “Oh! Oh! I know! I know!” Using my best impersonation skills, I jumped into character.  

In my most seductive Mae West voice, I said, “Come on up and see me some time.”

The frisky feline looked at me with disgust. I  confidently asked, “Is that it? That's got to be it!”
 
She spit at me. “No, no, no! That’s not it! You’re not even close!”
 
I should have received an Oscar for that impression, but I wasn't giving up. “Okay. Give me a minute.” I feigned sadness, as though I had just misplaced the winning lottery ticket.
 
I paused, in deep thought. “Okay, I’ve got it!” This has to be it!” I sang in a slow, deliberate, whisper. “Happy-Birthday-Mister-President, Happy-Birthday-to-you!”

I grinned and nodded my head in approval. Marilyn Monroe would have given me a standing ovation for that one.
 
The diva lashed out at me. “No, no, no!” She shook her head, as if she had a migraine.
 
Slightly slurring, she confidently proclaimed, “Silly boy, don't you know?! I'm Ginger! I'm Ginger Grant!”
 
[ Ginger Grant was a character in the television sitcom Gilligan's Island, most notably portrayed by actress Tina Louise. ]

I played along. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ginger. I’m Bobby. I wondered who you were supposed to be.”
 
The seductress cackled, and snapped at me.
"Oh, Bobby, you naughty boy! I’m not supposed to be anyone! I'm her! I am Ginger Grant!”
 
I apologized. “Oh, yes. Of course."
 
She rearranged her dress. Her wig was crooked, but she didn't care. I asked the movie star a delicate question. “So, how old are you now?”
 
You could have heard a pin drop.
 
Ginger poked at me in a forced falsetto. “Why, Bobby! A lady never tells, and a gentleman never asks!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot.”

 
We arrived to the party, she paid the fare, and got out of the cab.
I bid her good night and she answered, “Thanks, you too.”
 
I didn’t miss a beat. “Oh! If you see the President in there, don’t forget to sing Happy Birthday!”
 
Ginger stomped off.
 
The only thing I heard was shouting. “I’m Ginger, damn it! I’m Ginger Grant!”
 
Gee. I hope she didn’t tell anyone at the party to come up and see her some time.



Source: The Lighter Side of Yellow

Special thanks: http://photopin.com

The Burrowing Bohemian

 It was late in my shift when I stumbled onto a local ride, destination unknown. I didn't learn how unknown, until much later. The pick-up address was a local motel. 
 

What kind of motel?

 

Let me put it this way. The police get a call there almost every night. It's a very small motel, and any drug you need can be bought or sold there.

As I pulled my taxi into the driveway, I kept that in mind. I was on high alert and noticed the parking lot was empty. Only one or two cars were ever parked there and if I needed a quick getaway, it would be relatively simple. I don't like complications.

 

By complications, I mean drug dealers, muggers, carjackers, or hoodlums.

 

A woman in her late twenties scurried over to my cab and quickly got in. She immediately lay down in the seat and began rocking back and forth. With her head resting near the door window, she was facing me and began giving me instructions:

 

"Go, please!"

"Hi. How are you doing?”
“Just drive!”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t care, just drive!”
“Okay, you're the boss.”
 

So I drove. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of me. I asked her what was wrong. She told me she wasn't feeling well, and she must have some sort of "flu-bug."

 
Every thirty to sixty seconds, she quickly sat up, blip! and looked outside. She looked through the passenger-side window, blip! the rear window, blip! and the driver-side window blip!.
 
After looking in all directions, she dipped back down in the seat, blip! and heaved a sigh of relief.
 
To anyone watching nearby, I was certain my taxi took on the appearance of a Whac-A-Mole game, played at many arcades or carnivals.

You should now have a picture in your mind of what my amusement center on wheels looked like from a distance.
 
The Whac-A-Mole game resumed.
 
Business was slow that night and I was slightly amused with my passenger's antics. The burrowing beauty was a nice distraction from the usual routine. I felt like I should have been putting quarters into a slot.
 
If I can only remember where I put that padded mallet.
 
We stopped at four or five different apartment buildings. We had no luck at finding someone to give my friend in need lodging for the night. The diva of dips and dives continued instructing me.

Blip! "Go back to the motel!” Blip!
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
Blip! “Let me know when we're there!” Blip!
 
When we got back to the motel, I noticed there were three police cars in the parking lot. A lot of activity was brewing in front of the room my restless rodent had emerged from earlier. I told her what I saw, and she reacted as if the back seat had electricity racing through its springs.

Blip! “Keep going!” Blip!
“Which way do you want me to go?”
Blip! “I don’t care! Just go!” Blip!
 
We ended up at an apartment building, where she found a friend who could take her in for the night. We had driven around the city for about two hours and ended up a whopping one mile away from the motel.
 
Nevertheless, I gained some insight while spending time with my panicky passenger. During the last leg of our adventure, she divulged some classified information to me.
 
Earlier at the motel, she got into a fight with her boyfriend. When he realized the situation was hopeless, he became infuriated and called the police. He knew the mysterious mole had an outstanding warrant, and she knew the boys in blue would be very curious about it.
 
Finally, it all made sense to me, as we arrived to our final destination for the evening.
 
Blip! "How much do I owe you?" Blip!
 
I told her the amount. She got out of the cab, paid what was on the meter, and thanked me. I told her, “No problem, any time.”
 
Before she disappeared into the night, I expressed my best wishes to her in the only way I knew how. With some sarcasm.

“I hope you're feeling better! Take care of that flu bug!"

 
I didn't get any response. I looked around, and didn't see her anywhere. She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. I don't know where she went.
 
I don't know where she is now, but I'll bet she's busy digging another hole for herself.




Source: The Lighter Side of Yellow

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