snowfall.
Each new snow was a clean slate, but then in spring, it all came back to haunt. As the snow left, layer by layer, every piece of crap piled up on itself. The stretch before us could not have been more disgusting. Cans, cups, fast food restaurant bags—you name it; it was there.
We formed a long line, and I suspected that our dear detective must have felt as if we were all cadaver dogs.
At first, it wasn't that bad. Wrappers and bags mostly. Billions served, and all within a half-block radius. There were a few empty coffee cups from my beloved Road Swill drive-thru, and I wondered if any of them were mine. Claudia stared at me with disgust, as though they were all mine. “They're not!” I yelled at her. She laughed, my goat in her clutches.
Part of the blessed safety rules required us to move in an against-the-traffic direction. That meant every passing car got a frontal gander of the long line of women on display, except, of course, for Susan, who was incognito and could not been seen, or so she thought. Occasionally there were waves from passers-by, which we returned when we spied them. Many times there came the loud blaring of horns, as those obnoxious ones of the male gender realized just how hot we were.
"Oh my f-ing God!” cadaver dog one suddenly barked.
We stopped dead in our tracks.
"What is it?” someone yelled, expecting the worst.
"It's a goddamn dirty diaper. Oh shit, it's leaking all over!” cadaver dog one confirmed, and we moved on, quickly.
What the hell had I gotten us into?
Then, it seemed that we had struck the mother lode. Cadaver dogs were barking left and right.
"Rise and Shine ... Oh my God, glow in the dark condoms! An empty box of them. Ewwww!” dog number two barked.
Condoms were definitely not on the top-ten list of things lesbians liked to pick up.
"Just leave ‘em!” one of them said. “Maybe it'll blow into the Chamber of Commerce's section."
Okay, that made sense to me. So did my sudden need for a cup of coffee. I had never seen so many coffee cups in all my life.
Dog number three went off like nothing we had ever heard. “Panties! Somebody threw their damn panties out a car window!"
"Are those yours, Laura or Holly?"
"Hey!” Laura spat. “We have rules about such things!"
"And besides,” Holly added, “I wouldnever throw my panties out the window! Hang them on the rearview mirror, maybe, but never, ever throw them."
That helped. Thanks, Holly.
Now, granted, panties were possibly on the top-ten list of things lesbians liked to pick up, but I didn't think that meant just stray, personless ones—at least I hoped not. “Leave them for the Chamber of Commerce, too."
"What is with all the booze containers?” Kris yelled. “Gin, vodka, beer bottles, beer cans, tequila ... I mean, come on! If you're out on the highway with booze containers, chances are you're drinking and driving. Open intoxicants at bare minimum. This is just creepy! Laura, can't your guys do something about this?"
"We do the best we can. There will always be idiots, and I will always have a job."
Just then another horn blared, and catcalls came madly from open windows.
Cranky Ginny, who, as I said, rarely resorted to Neanderthal methods, cocked her middle finger and aimed it at the car as it sped past. She seemed rather proud of herself.
Yet again, I wondered what the hell I had gotten us into. I kept telling myself that I meant well, and that the fine DWD sign we were promised was worth it, if only to annoy a bigoted state.
As if in slow motion, I watched Susan grab Maggie's hand and started running far ahead of us. She ran while attempting to look back at us, pointing, madly pointing, then periodically using the same hand to secure her wide brimmed hat.
Ginny looked, turned her head, and quietly said, “Dead hawk.” This action repeated itself five more times until the words reached me at the end of the line.
"Three giant steps for womankind,
Each new snow was a clean slate, but then in spring, it all came back to haunt. As the snow left, layer by layer, every piece of crap piled up on itself. The stretch before us could not have been more disgusting. Cans, cups, fast food restaurant bags—you name it; it was there.
We formed a long line, and I suspected that our dear detective must have felt as if we were all cadaver dogs.
At first, it wasn't that bad. Wrappers and bags mostly. Billions served, and all within a half-block radius. There were a few empty coffee cups from my beloved Road Swill drive-thru, and I wondered if any of them were mine. Claudia stared at me with disgust, as though they were all mine. “They're not!” I yelled at her. She laughed, my goat in her clutches.
Part of the blessed safety rules required us to move in an against-the-traffic direction. That meant every passing car got a frontal gander of the long line of women on display, except, of course, for Susan, who was incognito and could not been seen, or so she thought. Occasionally there were waves from passers-by, which we returned when we spied them. Many times there came the loud blaring of horns, as those obnoxious ones of the male gender realized just how hot we were.
"Oh my f-ing God!” cadaver dog one suddenly barked.
We stopped dead in our tracks.
"What is it?” someone yelled, expecting the worst.
"It's a goddamn dirty diaper. Oh shit, it's leaking all over!” cadaver dog one confirmed, and we moved on, quickly.
What the hell had I gotten us into?
Then, it seemed that we had struck the mother lode. Cadaver dogs were barking left and right.
"Rise and Shine ... Oh my God, glow in the dark condoms! An empty box of them. Ewwww!” dog number two barked.
Condoms were definitely not on the top-ten list of things lesbians liked to pick up.
"Just leave ‘em!” one of them said. “Maybe it'll blow into the Chamber of Commerce's section."
Okay, that made sense to me. So did my sudden need for a cup of coffee. I had never seen so many coffee cups in all my life.
Dog number three went off like nothing we had ever heard. “Panties! Somebody threw their damn panties out a car window!"
"Are those yours, Laura or Holly?"
"Hey!” Laura spat. “We have rules about such things!"
"And besides,” Holly added, “I wouldnever throw my panties out the window! Hang them on the rearview mirror, maybe, but never, ever throw them."
That helped. Thanks, Holly.
Now, granted, panties were possibly on the top-ten list of things lesbians liked to pick up, but I didn't think that meant just stray, personless ones—at least I hoped not. “Leave them for the Chamber of Commerce, too."
"What is with all the booze containers?” Kris yelled. “Gin, vodka, beer bottles, beer cans, tequila ... I mean, come on! If you're out on the highway with booze containers, chances are you're drinking and driving. Open intoxicants at bare minimum. This is just creepy! Laura, can't your guys do something about this?"
"We do the best we can. There will always be idiots, and I will always have a job."
Just then another horn blared, and catcalls came madly from open windows.
Cranky Ginny, who, as I said, rarely resorted to Neanderthal methods, cocked her middle finger and aimed it at the car as it sped past. She seemed rather proud of herself.
Yet again, I wondered what the hell I had gotten us into. I kept telling myself that I meant well, and that the fine DWD sign we were promised was worth it, if only to annoy a bigoted state.
As if in slow motion, I watched Susan grab Maggie's hand and started running far ahead of us. She ran while attempting to look back at us, pointing, madly pointing, then periodically using the same hand to secure her wide brimmed hat.
Ginny looked, turned her head, and quietly said, “Dead hawk.” This action repeated itself five more times until the words reached me at the end of the line.
"Three giant steps for womankind,
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