Sinister: we greedy, plus we try'n feed the needy dawg wit all the cabbage

[Kirsten Kenyon]

  my car has died.  poor thing...sitting all alone in the parking lot 
of a twenty-four hour diner.  i'm not sure how i'll get to work 
tomorrow....
  i realized today how much i will miss my job.  a sweet elderly man 
came into the shop, walked straight up to the counter and asked if we 
would "cater to transvestites."  gina said yeah and asked what he 
needed...a shiny black corset and a cheap wig.  we don't have them.  
he said his wife thinks it's a horrible idea anyway.  heh.      
  yesterday, a young couple engaged in various sexual acts just 
outside the front window of the shop. looking into the shop and 
laughing and probably feeling brave and fabulous. no one was really 
impressed...someone stood and gave them the finger for quite some 
time, and someone else called security but they never showed up. one 
guard stopped in today with a memo, and gina said "people had sex up 
against the window.  we called security and nobody ever came by."  
the guard just stared blankly and said "well, you could've called 
again."   
   there is one female security guard...for many months she reminded 
me of someone and i could never think...then i realized.  and she 
gained a nickname.  'the trunchbull,' as far as i can see, is given 
ample pay and benefits for stomping around all day, eating roasted 
almonds and scaring kittens.  and scaring me.  there's this awful 
elevator to the basement.  it has a massive horizontal sliding 
door...you have to push down the bottom part and pull up the top part 
with a grimy strap....it's so horribly heavy that i have to get under 
the strap with my shoulder and push and pull until i have opened it 
enough to get my leg and half of my bum into the space, at which 
point i sort of wedge myself into the crack and push the top part of 
the door up over my head.  gosh.  sort of hard to picture, i'd 
imagine...sorry.  well.  a few days ago i was bored and stalling a 
bit on my way up from taking the garbage to the basement, and i 
suddenly thought that it might be fun if i were to stand on the 
bottom part of the door and pull on the strap overhead, thus raising 
myself with the door.  it looked like fun and i had nothing better to 
do...so i was just killing some time, going up and down with the door 
and wondering why i'd never thought of it before.  and then...a dark, 
bulky figure appeared. a neat brown bun on top of a skull the size of 
a basketball. the trunchbull.  she saw me there, balancing several 
feet off the floor, a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, and wearing 
a dumb t-shirt and a funny cap with cat ears.  she...boomed at me.  i 
don't know how else to put it.  i don't know what she said.  it just 
sounded like booming.  bits of roasted almonds flying out of her 
mouth, her great round eyes looking as though they might pop right 
out of her head.  i rather expected her to grab me by my hair and 
swing me around and around, for she simply must be a former shot-put 
champion.  of course she is.  she's the trunchbull.
    i'm sort of worried about my car.  i hope nobody does anything to 
it.  
    i'm also worried that years from now, a child will find out that 
he was conceived against the window at viktor-viktoria.  blech.
    sorry.  this is so lame.  i can't help it... 
LOVE
   kirsten
  by the way, mandee wright is completely rad because she can link 
oatmeal to the flight of the navigator and also because she just 
named my car "spacepet."


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