Ass Man: Attack of the… Oh, Man. This is Just Wrong.

The moon loomed heavy over the horizon, eclipsing all in its path. Its blue glow casting… OK, enough with the imagery: Dude hung his ass over my table. Really.

Ass manMind if I butt in? That’s what I thought.

It’s not like there wasn’t a whole coffee shop for Ass Man to find a place to take his call. Oh, no. He was drawn to my little corner. Just me, my drink, and his ass hanging over my table.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” he said as he wagged his denim butt far too close to me and my chai. “No, wait. Waddid you say? I’m not writing this down. I shouldda been writing this down. Start over.”

If had the stomach for it I could’ve counted the stitches on his pockets. Sorry, couldda.

“No, wait. Start over again. I’m still not writing.” And I start wondering if he might be related to Ass Boy.

Even I have my limits, so I ask Ass Man if he’d mind moving so I can get up from my table. “Hey,” he says, “I’m on the phone. Gimme a minute.”

And I ask myself how is it that I stay out of jail.

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