Possums.

Oh, Possums.

Yesterday, I felt like a common whore!

I know that you are probably asking, “What day don’t she feel like one?”

Like hell I say to that!

Oh Possums, the day started off nice enough, calm even. I awoke and Ava made  myself a buttermilk pancake and a cup of espresso. The only thing I planned to do, was go out and test out mattresses.

Possums, did I tell you I need a new mattress?

I have worn out my mattress, to the point that I am starting to feel the springs, and I don’t know if it has to do with the car accident, but my back is hurting a lot more that it has too! It is not as if there was a flux of recent activity on it. It has been spread out evenly over the years.

I think I need to write the manufacturer or something.

Or something….okay, there has been a flux of activity on it, but I am not going to tell the people at Sleep Country Canada that!

You know who are just as bad as car salesmen? Mattress salesmen!

As soon as you go into their establishment, they are on you like shiny taffeta on a bad bridesmaid’s dress!

I tried to give them a polite “No”. But, not with this salesman I ran into. He wouldn’t take “No” for an answer! It wasn’t enough for me to just sit on the edge of the bed. He wanted me to lie back on it.  Bounce on it, even! And every time I finished bouncing on the bed, he would then ask me, “So, how does that one feel?”

And again I would say, while trying not to laugh, and on purpose, “It is not hard enough. I like it hard!”

Then he did what every salesman does- he me asked what was my budget.

Possums, never, ever, let a salesman know your budget! This ain’t no whorehouse! The reason being is that when they know your budget, they will then “pad” up the price, like a bad girdle! Don’t tell em! That way you are the madam and they are the “girls”. They will end up giving you all the “extras” without you having to do much.

Remember that!

Also, remember that a good choice phrase of- “I am sorry, I can’t possibly make a decision right now without my husband/wifey.  He/She handles the purse-strings,” makes them back-off!

It works like a charm.

But, of course!

Then Mr. Mattress Man gave me his card, wrote down his price on how low he would go and then I went on with the rest of my day.

Or so I thought.

You know Possums, God has a way of showing you different themes that are playing in your life. What I mean is that what you speaketh you attract. Non? I tried to haggle the price for my mattress at different places. But, now I was going to get “haggled” in a different way.

I was just about to head home from the mattress outlet when I looked down between my legs and noticed that something looked raggedy. The stuff between my legs still had its color, Black of course, but it looked tired and used up. And since I was wearing a shorter skirt, I could see this all very easily.

It was beyond the wear and tear…

Wait.

Possums, what did you think I was talking about?

I was referring to the carpet mat belonging to my car!

Ha!

Anywhoo, I remembered that I saw that car mats were on sale at the local Canadian Tire Shop. For those not in Canada, think Pep Boys. It took me forever, but I finally found the section that held the car mats.  I was just lightly fingering one to check its quality, when all of the sudden I heard this man started to shout out in anger. Apparently, he was upset with their service. And apparently, he was Jamaican, cause he sounded like one of my uncles when they are sounding off at an abomination! Well, I looked up and saw a dapper little Indian man coming towards me. (Side Note: I am not being racist. I may be politically incorrect for stating what his race was, but Possums, A. I believe, as a writer, I have to provide the best visuals. B. You know that I am always politically incorrect and so, I am gonna be as such!)

But, I digress.

So, the short Indian man, who was dressed real nice, looked to be around his late twenties. But, after what he tried, I almost knocked him to his early thirties!

As I said, he came towards me, smiling.  I smiled back assuming he was smiling about the way the other man was yelling in the background. The store was now calling for Security to go to the Auto Parts section and the yelling man was hollering for them that they better bring on Security cause he was going to need Security to hold him back!

So, Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man came right up to me and was like whispering in my ear, “Hi, hoasidhfoalweofaod?”

And I was like, “I am sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?”

And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “I was wondering if adljfaoiwfnieona?”

And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like, “You see this spark plug, I am going to take this and LIGHT THIS UNDER YOUR MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER’S ASS!”

And I was like, “Pardon me? What did you say? You are going to have to speak a little louder, sir.”

And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “How much you charge?”

And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like, “Go ahead, you better call the manager, UP IN HERE! CAUSE YOU ALL AIN’T GOT NO MANNERS!”

And I was like, “Charge? For what?”

And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “Charge to go home with me now? For some sex?”

And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like “Yeah, you better make sure you catch this on your cameras, cause you see my face? You will never see it up in here ever again! You are a bunch of sorry mothers in here!”

And I was like, “Excuse you! I don’t do that! What kind of girl do you think I am!”

And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “I am very good. I pay good money. I give you extra.”

And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like “I am talking about mother-f**kers, you dummy! Not about your mother! You know what? Your momma, then! YOUR MOMMA!”

And I was like, “Are you friggin kidding me? Get away from me!”

And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “Don’t be like that. Come home with me.”

And then it got quiet in the background and Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man turned into just Mr. Jamaican Man.

I dropped the car mat down and backed away from Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man, but the Jigga man was now following me to the front of the store!

I walked quickly over to the customer service desk and found myself in a long line.  I was not about to broadcast it over some people’s shoulders that a man was following and begging me for sex! I turned and tried to go through the one cashier that was open and ended up facing another line. This one had Mr. Jamaican Man who used to be Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man in it.

“I am sorry, but I need to get pass you, please,” I told Mr. Jamaican Man.

“What’s wrong, Miss Lady? You look stressed?”

“A man is following me!” I told him.

“I don’t blame him. You are very beautiful.”

I smiled and thanked him. (Side Note: What a nice young man. He had such nice eyes and a nice smile.)

“But, he is trying to ask me for sex! And he wants to pay for it!” I told him and apparently everyone. Cause all of the sudden my peripheral vision opened up and now I had an audience! I don’t know if it was because they missed the chance to buy tickets to my aisle show, but all the sudden everyone turned around and started to yell and glare at Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man.

“Come here, so I can shoot you two box upside your head!” screamed Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man.

Well, Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man looked at everyone and took off out of the store!

And then Little Miss Cashier Girl called Mr. Big Fancy Man In His Manager Pants and told him what had happened to me. They both would not let me leave for five whole minutes. They wanted to make sure that the man was way gone.

As customers walked away with their purchases, they turned around to wish me well.  Mr. Big Fancy Man In His Manager Pants and Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man escorted me to my car. They both chatted and laughed with me as we walked.

Possums, did I sink their Battleship?

As I headed to my car, I looked over my shoulder to see the Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man climb into his white Acura. He wasn’t going anywhere!

I jumped into the car, breathless.

“What’s happened?” asked Ava.

“Ava, do I look like a hooker?”

“No, of course you don’t!” she answered.

I told her what happened. I told her about Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man and what the Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man wanted from me.

“I mean look what I got on!  I couldn’t even pass for a high-class call girl!”

“You got that right!” she agreed. “Anyways, don’t worry about it. Try to put it out of your head.” she answered.

I started the car.

“Didn’t he know that I would never do what he asked without dinner and a movie first?”

All of the sudden it was quiet.

I looked over at Ava and she was staring at me with an incredulous look on her face.

For what?

I don’t know.

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