This is the last flashback I will write. The only reason I am doing this is because I have gotten several emails from people interested in how I first met the Evil Couple. It runs longer than I am used to, so I will break it up into 2-3 blogs.
Let me first state that I am not stalking these people. I just happen to frequent the same Starbucks that they do. I can say that I frequent here a lot more now just because of them.
I like to stop by Starbuck’s prior to work and write, surf the net, answer emails…etc. One of my unfortunate habits is that I listen in on other peoples conversations. For the most part, this is boring.
And then I met……..Them.
When Thoreou said that most men live lifes of quiet desperation, he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. If you listen to someone elses conversation, it is inane and dumb. My conversations to, for the most part.
I first noticed them in line.
She is about 5’7, maybe 150. In her late 30’s. Blonde hair that would hang to the middle of her back, if there was any style to it. Instead, it kind of shoots out from the side of her head in kind of a blonde, “Roseanne Roseanna Danna” look for Saturday Night live fans. Its a lowered blonde afro for those who don’t watch. Her face is european, Czech type features. Cleaned up and dressed properly, this is a good looking woman. She wears a none-descript t-shirt that is XXL baggy. She is exceptional busty, and after turning to the side, there is enough jiggle to tell me that she is not wearing a bra. When each breast moves independent of its partner, something is up. She is wearing sweat pants made popular by Arnold Schwartzenegger back in the 70’s, when he was working out at Muscle Beach in Venice.
Standing behind her is a man in surgical scrubs. He is mid to late forties, distinguished, you would trust your life to him. Well groomed.
And they were together.
I know this because he was turned, looking at something outside the window when the next spot at the register opened up. She noticed that he was turned away and didn’t see, so she flicked out her hand, tapping him to get his attention.
And hit him in the nuts.
To be fair, it was low, but I couldn’t tell if it was a true nut shot.
His head whipped around quick enough, so it could have been.
She spoke to the cashier in low tones, her voice clipped and fast, but too low for me to hear.
The cashier was a little slow to grab the cup and begin writing. >
So she took it from him, the pen too.
What caught my eye was that it was such a casually crappy thing to do, both me and the cashier were stunned.
She finally handed it back and walked off, without a thank you, go to hell, an offer to pay, nothing.