A Journal of my adventures in the world I inhabit while I'm asleep. |
I work part time as a handyman: light plumbing, carpentry, electrical, etc. One of my favorite customers is an older woman who runs a massage parlor. She always compliments me on my work, never complains about my prices, and tips me well. (And the girls who work for her like to flirt with me when they're not too busy.) Mary has done quite a bit to fix the place up. When she first took over the business the building was quite seedy and rundown, and the customers were pretty low class. She's really changed the image of the place. Now the rooms are clean, the girls are classier, and the prices she charges are higher too, so she's attracting more upscale clients. The City is really happy with what she's done for the neighborhood, so the local paper sends a reporter over to interview her. She's talking with the guy, and telling him how much I've done to help her fix the place up. I have mixed feelings about this. I'm proud that she's happy with my work, but not really sure that I want my name in the paper, being associated with this place, which is basically a thinly-veiled bordello. The reporter says he wants to take a picture of Mary and the girls on the steps of the church next door. He says it'll be good publicity for the place. Mary invites me to be in the picture also. I decline, but a couple of the parlor girls goad me into it, taking me by the arms and dragging me outside while I protest (but not too much). As they're taking the picture my sister drives up. I walk over to her car after the photos are done. She's kinda upset. "What's Mom gonna think, when she sees that you're associated with this place!" "Well, she probably won't like it," I tell her, "but I always did want to get my picture in the paper!" |