Wednesday, November 29, 2006

The Tale Of A Greasy Spoon

Shirley shivered and pulled her fox collar tight around her neck. The snow blew around her ankles and sifted through her pumps. She grimaced and glanced quickly at the others wearing sensible shoes.
From out of the whirling snow the RTD bus loomed, packed with passengers. The driver gunned the engine as he passed the bus stop and sped quickly by. Shirley groaned, but some of the others cursed.
The lights from a greasy spoon glowed dimly from across the street. Perhaps they have a pay-phone, she thought.
The door to the diner was stuck. Shirley put her shoulder into it and immediately found herself sprawled on the floor, eye-level with shoes that Goodwill wouldn’t want any part of.
Blood trickled from Shirley’s right temple. She tried to get up, but a foot came down on her hard, knocking her back to the filthy floor. “We don’t allow your kind in here,” the man snarled. “Now git!”
Shirley started to protest, but she couldn’t get the words past the tears and the awful humiliation. A cold gust of wind blew up her skirt and a loud commotion above her brought her back to her senses. The most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life knocked the burly man who had her pinned to the floor across the diner. His movements were swift and before Shirley could collect herself, he had scooped her into his arms and was tucking her into a limousine parked at the curb.
The rich smell of leather and expensive champagne made her feel nauseous. She took several deep breaths and prayed she wouldn’t blow lunch all over this nice man’s car.
“Take it easy, my dear. Here…have some champagne. It’ll bring you around.”Shirley’s stomach lurched. She knocked the champagne from the man’s hand, dumped the ice bucket over her head and then vomited into it. “I’m not feeling very well, Shirley blubbered. She deftly flicked at the chunks of vomitus on her fur collar, knocking them into the ice bucket. “I think I’m pregnant.”

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