The Cathy and Derek Chronological Ending – III

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I turned my head again to look at the yard sign where I saw Scooter Guy attempting to saddle his scooter having tipped it right side up all by himself … 

One wheel of the scooter rested on the shoulder, the other on the black top of a much busier “through” street, ninety degrees left of the street he was on, where he’d soon be driving his scooter against traffic.

(Across the street, a wide concrete bike path watched Scooter Guy with cold indifference all the while thinking, ‘’Jesus, what a dumb shit.”)

When I looked back again at the sign all thoughts of Scooter Guy evaporated.  The penis inserted between the A and D seemed to have grown larger and much more prominent than before.  I asked myself,  why in God’s name would Scooter Guy insert a penis between the R and D of his yard sale sign?

I pointed at the sign, turned to look at my friend and while looking into his eyes shouted,  ’’But there’s a penis on that sign!  Can’t you see it!”

My friend’s eyes were squinting … his teeth still showed.  While his head and shoulders bounced up and down from giggling laughter, he suddenly turned and an instant later all I saw was his back receding away as he rushed toward the passenger side of his car.

Meanwhile, six or seven cars had lined up behind my friend’s car oblivious to the circumstances at hand, their passengers anxious to move past the stop sign and continue along on their various well worn paths.

I looked at the face of the female half of my friends relationship, her head still outside of the passenger side window.   With that shit eating grin still on her face she yelled,  ‘’So, whaddya been doing with yourself these days!’’ then laughed hysterically, while I stood on the black top with a grin on my face.

Suddenly, standing in the left lane all by myself facing a line of incoming traffic growing longer by the minute, I felt embarrassed.

I made eye contact with my laughing friend, felt the common bond of friendship and shared mirth between us, shrugged my shoulders and walked three steps to the left  toward my car door which was still open.

I slid into the black leather of the Mustang but, before slamming the door, craned my neck to look back at my friend … her head still visible outside the window, the rear view mirror obscuring  the bottom half of her face.

When I had her in my sights, I pointed and yelled. ’’BUT THERE’S A PENIS IN THAT SIGN!’’

I slammed the car door, put the Mustang into first gear, looked both ways and slowly let out on the clutch.  A split second before moving through the intersection  I looked into the left side, outside, rear view mirror.

My friend’s head was still outside of her window.  She still had that shit eating grin on her face but now her head bobbed up and down and up and down and up and down … like one of those bobble headed hula girl statues I remembered (from when I was a boy), that my grandparents displayed on the shelving unit that separated their tiny little living room from their tiny little kitchen.

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