Tuesday 200 - #58
“How much longer, Mommy?”
The overweight woman stopped on the sidewalk and rummaged through her tattered purse. Pushing aside her emergency supply of Jaffa Cakes, she pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to her daughter, a mini-her in too-tight leggings and matching floral print smock. I guess people really do buy clothes at Asda.
“Just look at this Lulu, and keep quiet for a spell.”
The not-so-little girl pulled out two 8x10s. “She’s pretty,” she said, wiping her runny nose on the back of her hand.
“Seems Daddy thinks so too,” said her mother. She coughed and spit on the pavement, barely missing me as I slowly passed by.
“Daddy!” the troll-child shouted, rushing across the street.
A startled man stepped out of the theater, the color draining from his face as he froze under the neon marquis flashing “Cat’s Walk.” I’d walked by the strip club almost every day for years, but had never seen anyone going in or out.
The color drained from his face as he saw his daughter rush towards him.
The screech of his "Lulu!”
The squeal of the taxi’s brakes.
The thud of a new hood ornament.
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Tuesday 200