Toy's Story (2 page)

“
Okay...
well,
I
’
m
not
really
sure
about
that,
but
good
luck
with
your
problem.
 
Now,
if
you
will
excuse
me,
my
man
is
on
his
way
to
pick
me
up.
 
He'll
be
here
any
minute.
 
He's
a
cop.
 
In
fact
he's
an
extremely
jealous
cop
with
three
guns.
Did you hear
me
? Yes that’s right, I said three damn guns.
 
So,
I
have
to
go.
” 
I
warned
as
I
made
my
first
and
only
selection,
G102.

Naturally,
nobody
was
even
close
to
being
on
their
way
to
pick
me
up.
  
Hell,
I
really
didn't
even
have
a
man
for
that
matter.
 
Well
at
least
one
that
I
could
officially
call
my
own.
 
The
truth
of
the
matter
is
that
I
had
two
half
ass
pieces
of
a
man
that
still
wouldn't
total
a
good
man
on
their
best
day.
 
Neither
of
which
I
would
remotely
put
in
the
category
of
being
my
boyfriend.

T
ruthfully, t
hey
both
were
more
like
friends
who
offered
extremely
good
benefits
when
the
urge
so
arrived.
  
And
at
twenty
eight
years
of
age,
the
urge
arrived
pretty much
daily.
Actually, I didn’t want a full time man in my life.
I
liked,
no
scratch that,
loved
being
single
and
unattached.
 
My
career
was
finally
on
track
and
a
man
would
just
complicate
my
already
complicated
life
even
further.
 
Besides,
I
had
taken
too
many
hits
falling
off
the
pretty
boy
tree
to
even
consider
taking
another
climb.
 
Still,
as
I
meticulously
eyed
the
tall,
handsome
gentleman
that
I
just
walked
away
from
I
could
only
conceded
that
he
would
definitely
be
worth
the
fall.

Standing
at
least
six
four
with
a
lean
muscular
build
I
estimated
him
to
be
around
twenty
five
to
thirty
years
old.
 
Judging
by
the
designer
clothing,
expensive
watch,
jewelry
and
shoes,
I
guessed
that
he
was
definitely
not
a
SLAG-
Sorry
Lazy
Ass
Goober.
 

The
brutha
definitely
appeared
to
be
doing
well
for
himself.
I’m not sure what he was doing, but apparently he was doing it well.
 
The
late
model
650SL
Benz
parked
in
front
was
more
than
likely
his
since
we
were
the
only
two
people
in
the
deserted
restaurant.
 
The
outdated,
faded,
red
Chevy
Camaro
more
than
likely
belonged
to
the
bartender.
And
the
Barbie
pink,
Dodge
Neon
probably
belonged
to
the
waitress.

The fact that he appeared to be completely alone, with no
bo
y
s
,
h
oes in tow
or enforcers clued me to the fact that he
probably
wasn’t pedaling drugs.
T
his man was extremely healthy, well dressed, meticulously groomed and very charismatic
. Nothing about him s
c
reamed street hustler
.
He had swag though, but it transcended far above street level.
None the less he was a stranger and I was
obviously
in danger of dropping my
thong
at his feet if I was not careful.
  

Now,
Stranger
Danger
was
definitely
the
type
of
man
that
I
would
love
to
call
my
own.
 
But
let's
be
realistic,
nobody
like
that
is
dateless
let
alone
woman-less
on
Christmas
Eve.
 
But
there
was
something
in
those
eyes.
 
Something
that
haunted
my
spirit
and
made
my
body
and
soul
want
to
co-
mingle
and
dwell
with
his.

I
returned
to
my
table,
with
Al
Green
crooning,
How
Can
You
Mend
a
Broken
Heart,
and
the young man’s
eyes
fixated on the rhythm of my romp.
I
had to
smile
to
myself
and
conclude,
“
I
must
have
been
transported
into
a
bad
episode
of
the
fuckin
Twilight
Zone.
A man
that damn fine
is
never free and single.
”

Granted
I'm
far
from
ugly
and
most
women
would
even
admit
that
I'm
extremely
attractive.
So
you
know
I
must
be
as
fine
as
hell,
because
bitches
just
don't
want
to
give
you
a
genuine
compliment.
 
Yeah,
so
I
guess
this
is
the
point
where
I
need
to
add
that
I'm
modest
and
humble
too.
 
No
but
seriously,
I'm
a
fifteen
on
a
scale
of
one
to
ten.
 
Handsome, successful m
en
approach
me
all
the
time.
 
I just choose not to let that bullshit trip me up in their games. Now I’m not saying that I’m better than anyone else.
It's
just
that
I
have
high
expectations,
perfectly
normal
self
esteem
and
an
extremely
low
tolerance
for
monkey
ass,
bullshit.
I
simply
know
my
value
and
refuse
to
sell
myself
short,
because
some
man
tells
me
how
pretty
I
am.

I'm
sure
some
of
you
would
agree
with
me
that
men
simply
play
too
many
damn
games
for
women
to
not
take
advantage
of
setting
the
rules.
If
a
man
wants
to
play
then
he
has
to
play
by
my
rules.
That's
how
I
live
and
some
of
you
are
right-
that's
probably
why
I'm
still
single.
Nonetheless
I
don't
lose
an
hour
of
sleep
worrying
about
where
my
man
is
and
who
he
is
with.
With
that
said
let
me
find
somebody
to
pick
my
ass
up,
so
that
I
can
get
back
to
DC
before
Christmas
morning.