The Taxi Driver
It's Friday night. I'm leaving the pub. Melbourne has been stinking all week long, and tonight is no exception—move determinedly enough and you'll break out in an uncomfortable sweat—but it's past ten and the evening is cooling down a bit. I wander down to the closest main street, and start that craning neck thing you do when looking for a cab, walking backwards and that.
Eventually a yellow falcon with a white light on top comes by. I jump into the front seat, like you do. I see the driver's name is exotic.
"Busy night mate?"
"It's okay" Heavy wog accent.
"Where you from mate?"
"Macedonia"
"Oh nice" (I spose) And I start going on about this Albanian rug I've got. And even if the Macedons and the Albanians do hate each other, they're next-door neighbours. He sorta cuts me off. I've mentioned the wife.
"Ah you married mate?"
"Yes"
"You ever, you know, cheat on your wife?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"We've only been married two months" A fact. "Do you?"
"Yes. You have to mate"
So you can see, it's starting to go a little off the usual course of pissed-passenger/sober-taxi-driver repartée. My responses start becoming more and more monosyllabic—if it is possible to be more or less monosyllabic, as opposed to just simply monosyllabic.
"Sometimes I take the headjob in the taxi" he tells me. "You know, if they have no money. It's not so bad."
"Ugh" I'm sure you do, Mr middle-aged, married, Macedonian taxi driver.
"My wife no like the headjobs." Pause. "I like the headjob. And sometimes also from the man." Curiouser and curiouser. "Have you ever had the headjob from the man?"
"No" I lie.
"Why not? "
"Never been propositioned, I spose"
"It's the best mate, the best. The man, he know what to do. The woman, she no idea."
"Ugh" I'm repeating myself.
"You a handsome man" Fucken oath! "why you never been with a man?"
"Dunno"
"Oh, the man, he's so much better. You know, I also suck the dick sometimes..."
"Really?" ok, two more sets of traffic lights.
"Yes, really. Is not so bad."
and then
"Maybe we go somewhere quiet, I suck your dick?"
WHAT?!?
"You like that?"
"No, sorry mate, I'm already running late for my mates. Not tonight." Not ever Mr middle-aged, married, macedonian taxi driver with three kids (did I neglect to mention that?)
"You sure? What time you go home? I pick you up. You know. I suck your dick. I like it."
"I don't know what time I'll be finished, sorry mate."
"I'll give you free ride. You handsome. I like to give you headjob. You will like it. I'm very good. And I drop you home after. Is easy"
"Just here please mate, at the 7-11" Still a few blocks to go but I don't want any more of this.
"You sure you no want? We can go round corner here, is dark."
"No thanks mate," handing over the approximate fare.
"Here, I give you my card. You want, you call me when you finish here, I give you headjob, no charge for ride home. Sounds good, yes?"
"Ugh"
"Here you call me"
So I took the card. And used it for roaches.
The moral of the story?
Don't. Wear. Pink. Polo. Shirts.
posted by skander @ 5:56 AM
1 comments
