Where does your father do his barnacles? Unfucked Edition Part 9
How could I get away? Where was there to go? This room was for waiting. It was a waiting room. Even though I could sense a system override wanting to take place I was still in nice-guy mode so I handed him his phone back and took out my phone.
“Look here.” He seemed eager.
“This is my dog from back home.” It wasn’t my dog. “Yeah, I don’t get to see him much and I miss him.” This next part I added for him. “A lot.”
“Thanks for being so nice.” He said.
“Can I take another picture of you?” The door behind the man opened and a hefty black man looked confused and unsurprised by the inflated beach trash sitting in his way. As soon as the man scooted enough for the big black man to pass I jumped into the room and shut the door on the man who lied about his dead son.
“Are you next?” A chubby nurse with no neck asked from behind the desk. “We aren’t quite ready for you yet.” She was typing and her eyes never left the blue light of the screen. “Why don’t you take a seat back outside.”
“Is there any chance I can sit here and wait. There’s a guy outside that’s kinda creeping me out.”
“Please step outside, sir. We’ll call your name when we’re ready.”
Outside the man who lied about his dead son was beaming like someone who never experienced the painful death of a son. “Can I take your picture?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
He started to scootch his chair over.
“Hey don’t do that.” He looked offended. “They’re going to call me back in any second now. They could call you in, too.”
“I’ll get up.”
“Just stay over there.”
“I could take a picture from over here and I think it would catch the light from the window there.”
“Don’t.”
“Listen, you are beautiful inside and out. You were so nice to me. I just want to show my boyfriend the really nice guy I met today. Listen how about you give me your phone number and I’ll take you—“
“I’m not giving you my phone number.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“Frank.” Called the chubby nurse. As I stood the man reached out at my coat. “What if I told you I made seventy grand a year?”
“It wouldn’t matter.” I pulled my sleeve away and ducked into the little room.
Other Posts:
The Best Fuck You Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4
Invest in Rain Part1Part 2Part 3
Where does your father do his barnacles? Part 1 Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part7 Part 8
Van-life series Part 1
Rushing into a relationship with my unconscious Part1
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