You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up!

There were four South Suburban’s lined up side by side in zone 525. For weeks a great debate had raged over the sexual orientation of one of our hookers, a gal/guy named Antigua. Antigua was black and stood about 6′ 1″ tall and she/he had a rather large frame for a girl which lent fire to the suspicion that “She” was actually a “He.” This discussion had taken on epic proportions as we, her loyal cab drivers, sought to satisfy that age old curiosity, is it a boy or a girl?

Crazy Bob in the #12 Rust Bucket: “I’m tellin ya boys, there ain’t no way Antigua’s a girl. You can’t be that tall and have that deep a voice and be a she. She’s a he! Hell, I’d betcha a day’s worth of fares.”

Big Bill in the #28 Betty Boop car: “Well if she’s a he, how come we keep picking up John’s and they’re all he’s! Did ya ever consider that little factoid?”

Crazy Bob waving his arms emphatically: “They’re probably just kinky dudes. Your human population’s got all sorts of strange proclivities if you get my drift.”

Manny the Mexican in the #037 van: “I get yer drift senior, could you maybe put yer arms back down, you smell like a dead coyote.”

Crazy Bob: “You watch yer mouth there ya stubby little wet-back!”

Me: “Calm down boys. Bob, how do you explain her waste? I mean her waste can’t be more than 24 inches around. You can’t engineer a slim waste. Boobs sure, the butt sure, but a narrow waste, now that’s a different story. For my money she’s just a big girl with a husky voice.”

Crazy Bob: “I admit the waste is pretty nice but I’m tellin ya she’s a freak of nature if she’s a she. Christ, the last time she road with me we ended up going to that laser place where she had some hair laser’d off her face. Hell, she told me that straight up.”

Big Bill: “That don’t prove nothin, hell my third wife was havin hair removed from all sorts of nooks and cranny’s.”

Manny the Mexican: “Why she no use a tweezers?”

Big Bill: “Aw shut the hell up jumpin bean.”

Me: “I mean yer standard hooker’s always a girl. It’s sort of a rule. Every time I pick her up we’re either going to Bed, Bath and Beyond or Walgreen’s for rubbers! We’re talking rubbers here boys.”

Big Bill: “Ya mean Bed, Bath and really Beyond don’t ya?”

Manny the Mexican: “I use rubbers and I’m no chickita.”

Me: “Yer missin my point Pablo, she’s usin protection on account she don’t wanna have any baby hookers. Guys can’t get pregnant, only girls can.”

Big Bill: “There’s a guy in Rumania that’s pregnant. Google it and see for yerself.”

Me flashing him the bird: “Google this numb nuts.”

Crazy Bob: “What about that website of hers on the Internet? There’s a picture of her with a real penis. How you boys explain that if she’s a she? Huh, how do you explain that?”

Big Bill: “Easy, you can buy them fake ones on that adult website!”

There was a moment of awkward silence as everybody turned their gaze on Big Bill. He had a sort of ooops look on his face, like maybe he shoulda kept his mouth shut or something.

Big Bill: “Hey, hey, hey, don’t even go there. I was Googling for attachable pennants to decorate my cab with and I typed in the wrong word. You boys know I have arthritis in my hands from driving this damn cab. It affects my coordination.”   

Crazy Bob: “You got arthritis in yer hands from doing something else, but that’s a discussion topic for another time. I’m tellin ya Antigua’s a guy and the John’s we’re picking up are some strange whacked out dudes. There’s no way he’s a she.”

Me: “I don’t know Bob. I was watching her the other day and she was being down right sweet. Why she actually seems to be really nice and guys aren’t nice.”

Big Bill: “Hmm, he’s gotta point there.”

Crazy Bob: “Never looked at it that way. He does have a point, guys aren’t nice. No way, they’re jerk offs!”

Manny the Mexican: “He right amigos, we hombres no?”

Me: “My butt itches.”

Big Bill: “Aww for Christ sakes, there he goes with the butt thing again.”

Crazy Bob: Yeah, shut up and scratch yer head, that’ll take care of it.”

Well, there you have it, a typical in-depth discussion cabbie style. People never realize what deep thinkers we are until they ride in the cab with us. When we drop them off, they still don’t.

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