We are back on the corner, in the rain, with Evil Couple and Mama Evil.
(This is a part 2 so go back and read yesterday if none of this is making any sense)
I have water dripping down my face.
As we all wait for the light to change, Mama Evil moves a little forward, it seems like a perfectly normal move.
Mr. Evil adjusts the umbrella to cover her and in doing so, leaves his wife just a little more uncovered.
Mrs. Evil does not seem to be able to ignore the rain, she has what I like to call the wet cat response to the rain.
In other words, she is miserable.
There is no way to know if this was intentional on the part of Mama Evil, but I have to go by the track record and hideous karmic cloud that must follow this bunch around like the plague.
I wonder if I were to walk a block away from them if it would even be raining?
The light turns green and we make our way across the street and into Starbucks.
Mr. and Mrs. Evil stop at the door to shake off the wet and close the umbrella.
Mama Evil doesn’t even break stride, she just walks in like its nobodies business.
Thats how she rolls.
There is a fair line, but that doesn’t seem to slow her down.
She walks to the front of the line and holds a hand up to the cashier, who is writing on a cup for a customer, you know, the one that is actually in line and who’s turn it is to order?
“I would like a small coffee, black, my son in law will pay you. I will be sitting over there.”
She idly gestures at Mr. Evil, just coming thru the door, and the occupied tables near the cream and sugar kiosk.
Then she walks off.
The fuck you is implied at this point, I think we all get that, right?
I leave the line to go watch.
I am excited and a little nauseous. I mean, this point, you could not get a pin up my ass with a jackhammer.
The small round tables are all occupied.
The one in the middle has a business guy sitting against the wall, reading the paper.
The chair at his table is unoccupied.
Mama evil sits down without invite at the table and just sits there.
The uncomfortable clock is ticking for this poor bastard, and I think, deep down, he knows it.
He folds up his paper and leaves, looks confused and a little ashamed.
(I had a phenomenal line about altar boys and shame, but my mother still reads this blog and I don’t need that kind of self inflicted shit storm in my life)
Mama Evil moves over to the previously occupied seat, and settles in.
And catches me watching.
The narrowing of the eyes is unmistakable.
I fade into the line with as much salvaged dignity as I can muster.
PART 3 coming tomorrow.
(Did you just pull that cliffhanger shit again? YES I DID!)