Gas in LA is at an all time high (I have not verified this, but it’s so expensive it can’t possibly be untrue.) I’ve been avoiding getting gas for this reason but finally had to pull over on my way home. I’m pumping my gas and a silver SUV pulls into the spot in front of me.
A young guy gets out and asks me if I’d pay for his gas.
He has a handycap placard on his dashboard.
Me: only if I can have the handycap placard.
Bro 1: It’s my buddies.
Buddy aka Bro 2 gets out of the car. He does not appear to be handicapped. Bro 2 claims the placard belongs to Bro 1.
I wonder if these guys stole this car from someone.
The guys chat with me while we fuel.
Bro 1: You getting gas with daddy’s credit card?
Not sure if this is because I look young or they somehow sense I’m unemployed. Insecurity rising.
Bro 1: Buy us some snacks? I like cheetos.
Bro: Fine, I’ll buy you snacks. What do you like?
Me: Kettle Chips.
Me: That I buy with Daddy’s credit card.
Such a good recall. God, I should be a writer.
I start to get into my car and Bro 1 approaches. Wonder if he will try to steal my car.
He asks me if I want to go to the club with them tonight.
Me: No, thanks.
Bro 1: Do you go out a lot?
Bro 1: Here. Take my card I work with DJs (“work with” aka am some sort of assistant) so I’m out a lot.
I take the card.
I came home and ate Trader Joes egg white salad, which I put inside cheese slices and eat like sandwhich. I live like a Queen.
I tried to google Bro 1 but my ghetto internet isn’t working. I wonder if I forgot to pay my bill.
His last name has “Bottles” in it. I kid you not. I wonder if he changed it to further his career.
We have one mutual friend on facebook. The only promoter/ DJ I know.
Should I call him?