Rude little bitch, standing on my porch, trying like hell to be cool, giving me high fives, telling me how cute the boys are, my kids that is. Her partner was also friendly, but he too stood on my porch, running through the scheme they wanted to include me in.
They're earning points to win a trip to London, and all they have to do is get me to pick a book or a magazine. Somehow, they are also learning how to speak to people, speak in public, in front of a crowd. Oh, and for every book or magazine I pick they earn points, and she's one of the top point earners.
"So, you want me to buy a magazine?" I ask as I peruse the list of magazines she's shown me.
Of course I know that's the deal. I knew it was the deal when I saw them on my porch, but I wasn't sure till she opened her mouth what the exact scheme was going to sound like. It's always something similar though it's usually a young black male selling magazines to earn money for college. The magazines don't have to be for me. I can pick a book for the children's hospital or a magazine for a soldier.
Look, I don't have any heartstrings to pluck. You need something to strum and try to get me to buy your magazine it's not the heart you need to look toward. Maybe suck my dick and I might be willing to order a magazine or two, but beyond not being willing to play along, they weren't offering any magazines I'm interested in. So they failed at my door.
And it was all nice enough, the young lady was attractive enough. He male counterpart could not claim the same, but in the end, he was the friendlier.
"I'm not interested," I finally tell her.
She tries to play the friendly smile a bit, offers the aforementioned soldier or children's hospital, but I'm adamant. Not only am I not in the market for magazines, but I'm certainly not helping whatever company has convinced these young people they can sell magazines and win a trip to London. I wonder if they realize they are part of some scheme.
She finally realized I was really not going to buy a magazine. She snatched back her magazine list, and, without so much as a goodbye, she hops off the porch and is off. I watch her turn and go, admire the curves she's been blessed with, a little pink panty peeking from her jeans.
Watching them both go, I turn to trot across the neighbor's yard. While the magazine kids had me stuck at the door, waiting to tell them NO, the dog has slipped out. She's ignored my whistling, my calls. She hasn't gotten far, and as I reach her and get her attention, I turn back to the house. A quick jog and she's right behind me, running along to the house and back inside.
The bitch was rude, interupted my lunch, made me have to chase the dog down, and provided a little post fodder. I suppose it wasn't entirely a loss. Plus she was kinda cute as I said.