ManicDDaily

Words Outside the Bottle

This morning brought one further occasion (aside from the state of my own writing) to bemoan the demise of the English language.

Two people were sitting on the boardwalk steps as I walked up from the beach at about 9.  I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but every day that I spend in Florida helping my folks seems to make me older and more decrepit (sorry, Folks!) and I was having a hard time getting my sandals which were lodged just below the boardwalk.   This meant that I spent a fair amount of time in the vicinity of these two individuals.  One was a going-to-seed, slightly greasy, youngish man with a large half-empty bottle of beer by his hand; the other an already-at-seed, slightly pudgy, youngish woman with a half-knowing (I will not say “empty”) grin.

“It’s cause you said that,  you know, what you said.” (from the woman.)

Man: “Nah, I never said that s—.  I told him, you know that other s—.”

Woman:  “No you said, you know, what you said.”

Man: “I didn’t, I said, whatever, you know–I said, uh-huh all that.  I wasn’t going to play that game of his.”

Woman: “Oh yeah.”

Man:  “S—, no.   I said, whatever.”

At this point, my sandal strap almost on, I couldn’t help but get quite close.  I thought they’d stop talking with me at their feet, but things actually picked up.

Man: “I was just telling him what kind of ho’s are ho’s.  That’s all I said.”

Woman:  “That it?”

Man:  “Not you….”

Woman:  “Whatever.”

Man:  “Good morning.”  (This addressed to me.)

Woman:  “Have a good one.”  (Also to yours truly.)

A part of me really did want to intervene at this point.  I don’t want to sound patronizing, but I was just aching for more, you know, words, and also, uh, directness.

Look, I wanted to tell the guy, just tell her that you want to get into her pants, and think that she’ll probably agree in the end because she’s sitting out here arguing with you.

To her: so, he really is kind of sleazy and opportunistic.  The question is how lonely are you?

Needless to say, I shuffled on in my silent, decrepit way, sandals (sort of) affixed.