I’ll Call You Reggie
On a dreary afternoon on my way to a hair appointment I notice I’m running low on gas. I’m early so I decide to stop for gas before my appointment. *Honesty hour- I’m really only stopping now because I refuse risk ruining my overpriced blowout in the rain afterward. A firetruck and ambulance pull in less than two minutes after after me. SURPRISE! I’ve obviously chosen the wrong gas station yet again. Luckily, most of the commotion is taking place on the opposite side of the station so I carry on as usual.
My hair appointment was a bit of a road trip, about an hour and a half away from where I live (yes it’s that serious) so I decide to pop the hood to make sure every thing is in order. I have no idea what I’m doing. I check the oil ahh looks about right then close the hood. A creeper approaches from behind.
Creeper: Whats your name?
I hesitate, should I give him a fake name? No, that’s not necessary. Does it really matter? It’s not like I’m going to give him my number. I finally decide to cut this short and just give him my real (nick)name...but in a really stern tone so as to deter the creeper. Fail.
Creeper: What’s up, you gotta boyfriend?
Me: Yes. I lied
Creeper: Damn, can I take you out? We can get to know each other as friends.
No, no sir we can’t.
Me: No.
Creeper: Damn. You need some *inaudible*
My assumption is that the man has just offered me weave. No, I’m not into buying weave out of the back of a car, but if it’s 100% virgin I might reconsider. As you may have guessed, weave is not at all what the creeper had just offered me.
Me: Weave?
Creeper: No, weed? Loud?
Me Slightly embarrassed because LOL: OH! Nope.
As the creeper walks away I notice he’s got a gun in his waistband and his hand has been resting on it the entire time. Awesome.