Desert Sand Mica

Whatever, just crash it Bob...


Double breasted mattress thrasher.

There was an old man downstairs here at work. He was standing by the guard desk, Sandra was there. I'm not sure what he was doing, he had all this luggage full of crap..mostly papers. He said they wouldn't let him shave at the courthouse, so he came to the library to see if he could shave here.

His name is Harold Baker and he's 72 years old. He told me about his life in Texas and Oklahoma. Said his dad was a baptist preacher and that he had houses all over the States. He started pulling stuff out of his bags..cause he said he had something for me to read. Turns out it was his "resume" - I use the term loosely. Mostly it was a shitty typewritten (not computer) piece of paper listing all his jobs since 1940! He said where he came from, they had a term for women like me.

"We called em double breasted mattress thrashers. And I dont mean that in a bad way, darlin."

He said he wanted to marry me, and that he had more money than I could ever spend. (Don't count on it). He gave me his number, and said that when he gets his Social Security check that he wants to take me to lunch and then "somewhere else." Meanwhile he had this little trail of drool coming down the right side of his mouth.



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