girl with a message

i’ve been away for work for almost a week and was more than anxious to get home to daphne and the kids. ian, the driver taking me to heathrow, was the jovial, gray-haired sort that reminded me more than a little of benny hill.

barely a block away from the hotel, his cell phone rang and he told me it must be his 14 y.o. niece. “the crudest kid i know,” he said with obvious pride. “she sends me rude jokes everyday.”

then with me watching the road nervously, he began reading off the tiny screen.

“what’s a clit?” “a special tickle spot on a woman”

“what’s a cunt?” “the rest of her,” he chortled.

“a older woman seduced a young man and convinced him to 69 on the sofa. after a while, she told him to get up and move to the bed where they can be more comfortable. the lad started putting on his pants. confused, the woman asked what’s going on. zipping up his pants he said, “not doing 68 more times of that.””

har, har, har…

then, out of nowhere, ian told me the girl's dad was killed in a motorcycle accident a year ago.

“i can’t remember how many times he divorced over that bike. he spent all his time and money on it...but it was a really beautiful machine.”

“she’s a good kid,” he continued, “i’m going to retire in january and then my lady and i will spend more time with her.”

“i’ve only had two jobs my entire life, the royal navy and driving, and this will be the third,” he said looking at me. “it’s important to love what you do.”

Posted by cellpharmer at June 10, 2008 07:47 AM