Out of Ideas, Out of Time: Chapter 8
A Collaborative Story
CHAPTER 8
“On your left?” asked the young cat behind the cash register.
I gave him the stink eye because it was clear I was leaning heavily on my right leg, while using the cane to support my gimpy left ankle.
“Why would I put my weight on my left foot? If you’re into causing people pain, your talents would be better suited in the Big Apple. Just turn right on I-40 and stay on the main highway for another 31 hours.”
“You want to use the bathroom, don’t you,” he said. “It’s on your left?”
“You some kind of a wrong number? I can’t tell if you’re asking a question or making a statement, savvy?”
“Yeah, I get that? Originally, I’m from the Valley? Have you ever been to Los Angeles.”
“I got no time for this, kid, I’m on a case.”
I blew through the dump, picking up supplies, limped back to the cashier and handed him a fin for the grub.
