Daryl comes back into the store after being outside, talking to an old friend who had been in the hospital for the past two weeks after being hit by a drunk driver. “They’ve been raging these past few months, those drunk drivers.” Said an anchor on one of the local news channels on the lower east side of the state. She’d been drinking too much vodka and rum after she left her husband for “spiritual” reasons. Daryl’s friend has not heard this quote, but if he did, he would rightfully agree.
Daryl, walking in through the front glass door, says to the balding guy at the t-shirt rack “Sorry man, my friend from Lansing just called. Haven’t talked to him in a dog’s age.”
“It’s fine, dude.” Gary replied.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, he reminded me of this one time” Daryl went on “when I was looking for a place up there for school. I went to State, you know?” He confronts Gary and continues. “Anyways, my friend and I were just about to meet up with this real estate agent, and talk about the apartment that was there. Well, when we pull up to the building it looks like a pretty alright place. Has a few trees and a couple fire hydrants, but you know what I see walking down the street, and up down it again, and again?” Looking back to Gary “Hookers. Every minute I was there, though (even by the time we left), neither of them came up to me and my friend asking anything.” A few of the other guys at the store had gathered around and chuckled. “I mean, are we – am I – really that bad looking, that some crack-whore-AIDS-infested hooker won’t even ask me for business?” More people laugh and agree about the prostitutes’ actions. “Damn.” Daryl finishes.
Ben sits from his chair behind the showcase counter, holding a phone up to his ear, and covering the receiver with his free hand. Looking up to Daryl, Ben says in a stern voice “Hey, ya’ mind checking the back for that box with those new Hornet issues?”