Mad Atoms

I sold my car recently. And it wasn’t a nice car. It was an unsightly car, which consequently means that my prospective buyers were of the unsightly variety (i.e. from Craigslist). But given that I, on occasion, squat in dark alleys and drink out of paper bags, I try not to judge. However, the guy who left messages at 12:40, 12:42, and 12:56am saying that he urgently needed to purchase my vehicle did not receive a call back.

Last Sunday, one of the prospective buyers shows up to look at the old Olds. He was supposed to come on Saturday, but there was some sort of emergency involving no one being home to set his VCR to record, so Sunday it was. He has crooked teeth, a puce green Previa to match and a hint of a lisp. He shook my hand. 

“Hi,” he said, sucking in air through his teeth. “Can my thister use your bathroom?”

I’m confused for a moment, but then my eye catches on a plump, purple mass sliding out of the passenger seat. She was wearing a Curves Staff sweatshirt, and I immediately think that, had I been their marketing people, I would have thought twice before printing in XXXL.

“Can my thister use your bathroom?” he repeats.

“Um,” I begin, and the Thister smiles warmly. “Sure!”

I’m not super comfortable with letting rando craigslisters into my home but as a fellow tiny-bladdered-woman, I consented. Pointing out the 1994 Olds, I escort the chick into my apartment. After an acceptable period of time (3 minutes, 47 seconds to be exact), she flushes and exits and we go back outside. The man meets us at the bottom of the stairs, saying that the car isn’t what he’s looking for, and he doesn’t want to waste my time.

“Thanks again for the bathroom,” she smiles.

“Sorry,” he says. (Note the lack of lisp!!!!)

They drive off, leaving me standing there, somewhat stunned. Also, somewhat scared. I run to my bathroom, where the water is still running, and scour every inch of the tile, looking for toilet bombs and hidden cameras but find nothing.

But "America’s Most Wanted" didn’t raise no fool; although I can’t see it, I know the webcam is there. For a few days I took to showering in a makeshift full-body showercap but I quickly ran out of trash bags and gave up. Now I spend most of my days just perusing web porn, looking for a familiar face so I can at least collect some royalties.