“I’ll meet you at Jerry’s, I’m just gonna fuck this guy real quick so I can get cab fare!” the woman yells across the street, and I’m tempted to just floor it before she can get in. Unfortunately, the guy who’ll presumably be paying her is already in, and he’d be pissed. At least he probably has cash.
He tells me to take them to a nearby hotel, but before we can get more than two blocks, he has me turn the cab around so the woman “can talk to her nieces.” I do so, and the woman directs me to a drug corner where she gets out and has an animated discussion with two large men who eventually hand her something after she gives them money. She’s overjoyed when she gets back in the car and her purse is still there, the pictures of her kids inside.
“Wow, you’ve got kids?” asks the man.
“I got six, two pairs of twins and two singulars,” she says.
“Wow.”
“Two pairs of twins and two singulars,” she repeats.
“Wow, life is such a miracle.”
“I guess I’m glad I had ’em,” she mutters.
“Can I see their pictures?” he asks.
“Yup. See the ones that look alike? They’re the twins.”
“Wow, I need to get some kids soon.”
And while parts of me are amused, and others are horrified, I’m mostly fascinated by the psychology of a man who asks to see pictures of his prostitute’s children.
Old man down, way down down, down by the docks of the city.
Blind and dirty, asked me for a dime, a dime for a cup of coffee.
I got no dime but I got some time to hear his story.
My name is August West, and I love my Pearly Baker best more than my wine.
More than my wine - more than my maker, though he's no friend of mine.
Everyone said, I'd come to no good, I knew I would Pearly, believe them.
Half of my life, I spent doin' time for some other fucker's crime,
The other half found me stumbling around and drunk on Burgundy wine.
But I'll get back on my feet someday,
The good Lord willin', if He says I may.
I know that the life I'm livin's no good,
I'll get a new start, live the life I should.
I'll get up and fly away, I'll get up and fly away, fly away.
Pearly's been true, true to me, true to my dyin' day he said,
I said to him, I said to him, "I'm sure she's been."
I said to him, "I'm sure she's been true to you."
I got up and wandered, wandered downtown, nowhere to go but just to hang around.
I've got a girl, named Bonnie Lee, I know that girl's been true to me.
I know she's been, I'm sure she's been true to me.
Wasn't expecting the lyrics to Jerry's hymn to humanity. This flu put a stinking ad jingle in my head for two days, and August West drove it away. Thanks, Neck Ed.