Lady of the night.
All synonyms for “prostitute”.
Over here in the Kensington section of North Philly near the school I work at, there are scores of these sweethearts skanking up and down the street morning, noon and night.
At least 2-3 mornings a week I’m greeted by these one when I descend the steps of Huntingdon Station off of the El Line.
It’s a parade of stares, severely chapped lips and poo-stained acid jeans. Everyone of them looks like a strung-out Gwen Stefani.
And they’re always wearing weird “sassy” too-tight t-shirts that say things like,
“My Boyfriend Doesn’t Need To Know”
“My Junk Tastes like Old Sour-Patch Kids”
(ok I made that one up).
And they all bobble around on rickety legs, scratching at their arms and stomachs with crazy bug-eyes–it’s like walking around a Christopher Lloyd convention.
Usually, if they say something to me, the comments are fairly lame and boring. It’s like they’ve all taken lines from the worst pick-up guy at the bar; you know, lots of, “Hey Honey, you know what time it is?”, “You got a girlfriend, handsome?” or “Cunny for a penny?”. And so on and so forth.
Once one of them even stopped and flashed me after asking me what time it was.
The Kids….Theatre Presents:
KFC (Kensington Fried Crackhead) and Preppy Boy: A Play
( Skank): “You headed to work or somethin?”
(Skank): “Yeah? You got time for THESE??!!”
(Me, shocked): “………….”
(Skank shakes torso back-and-forth swinging chest from side-to-side. No really.)
(Me, repulsed): “…………”
(Me, finally speaking): “Sold.”
Ok, no, but I did say, “See you at Back to School Night“.