We were out at the cafe tables so we could smoke, when she walked by in her summer dress. The light material stretched over her ample body and I glanced and then went back to talking abut the band and I looked over at Tony and he was staring at her and taking a hit of smoke. He exhaled the words, “How Ya Doin?” with the smoke in her direction and she shot a quick glance at him and hurried in silken jiggle down the wet street. Tony smiled to himself and took another sip of red wine.
“You see what kind of fuckin’ humanitarian I am? You see what a great guy I am? Do you?”
“What?,” I asked.
“You see that girl who just passed by?”
“Sure I saw her… Not my type,” I informed him.
“Of course not… She’s a fat, ugly pig… dude, she’s nobody’s type…”
“I don’t know, ” I said. “You’re Italian… I thought maybe you like ’em with some meat.”
“I like ’em all ways. Noboby likes women more than me… all kinds of women tall, short, black, white… but dude, that chick’s a dog… but me? I’m such a nice guy, I call out to her… You see? I’m trying to make her feel like a man might want her… like she might be attractive too. I say hi to her just to make her feel good… make her feel like some guy wants to fuck her… WHY? Cause I’m a humanitarian. Why shouldn’t an ugly girl feel like men want her?… Make her fuckin’ night, right?… And she’s got the nerve to look at me like I’m gonna rape her, or something… Fucking bitch!”
He drank some more wine and smoked some more and fell into a bit of a funk.
“Well,” I said. “You never know. She may be smiling to herself now…like ‘I still got it motherfucka… I still got it’… you know?”
“Right dude…. She’ll probably go home and hump a pillow… she’ll cum balls…. I tell ya dude, I’m a fucking humanitarian.”
And to prove it, he bought us another round of drinks.