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Who's the Cat?
2003-11-14 - 1:53 a.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

Snowflurries cascaded through the empty streets.  I pulled up to the coffee shop to see the band I was to watch packing up and loading out their instruments.

I was greeted warmly by some of the regulars.  People in the shop who've seen me play came up to speak to me.  I got a cup of coffee, and in the process, bantered with the cute coffee girl.  Cute girl, nice smile when she does, full lips, frizzy curly blonde hair, narrow hips, tight ass that twitches well when she walks.  Never wears a bra, and wears the retro or faux retro that's popular these days.  Always the center of attention of the regulars, some of whom watch her like a piece of meet as she moves about the shop, her ass wiggling just so with every step, and her sound and movements filled with her seeming joie' de' vive.

"Hello."

"Hi"

"Having a good day?"

"No!  How could I?"

And I began to think she was a little crazy.  From what I've heard, she is.

"Kill any moths lately?"  I ask, referring to the last time I saw her, when I entered the shop, through the wood and glass door, inbetween the huge spotless big bay glass windows that stretch twelve feet up to the ceiling, she, standing outside sweeping the sidewalk, yelped rather loudly, startling me.  'Oh, I'm sorry moth,' she said 'I thought you were a ciggarette butt!'

"No,"  she said, and then lowered her head grinning broadly, pleading "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," I said. "I thought it was cute."

And I grabbed my cup and got some caffinated, sat down and watched them play.  I caught the coffee girl stealing glimpses at me as I listened, sometimes staring off, lost in my own thoughts, only to look up to see her peering out at me from behind her sleek brown glasses and dusty, bushy hair, somewhat lazily formed into two pigtails.  I'm a sucker for pigtails.

I drank my fill.  She went out to have a ciggarette about the same time I was ready to go.  We bantered a bit more, she said i was a "really, really good guitarist" and introductions were made.  She had a wool coat with an east german insignia on it, and said she got it at a thrift store.  By coincidence, I got my coat at a thrift store.  She'd heard me play with steve and harold before, and though she didn't like them playing, as they played all the same songs all the time, she liked what I did with them.

"It sounded really good."  She said.  And then invited me back again next thursday for the same bluegrass band.  Unfortunately, I finish class as they finish playing.

I asked her if she was working sunday, and she said she was. 

I told her I was going to see her then, and she looked at me and said, "Okay," but the look in her eye said she already knew before I'd said a word.

 


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