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Current mood:  breezy
"Come over," she said.
Natalie is an OK girl, but she lives all the way uptown. For going there it to be worthwhile she needs to be in a particularly friendly mood, which she hasn't had quite some time now. She talks in a high-pitched voice and it makes me wish I hadn't picked up the phone. She's interrupting my solitude.
"I've got vodka," Natalie goes on, "Premium".
That's something. I look out from my window. The Laundromat is empty. I won't get any action from there tonight. Maybe seeing Natalie isn't such a bad idea.
"Ok baby, I'll be there in a bit."
My car is parked in the resident-only zone. I live there but I'm no resident. When I get to it, it seems like my lucky night. No ticket on the windshield. Hell, if things keep going the way they're going, Natalie will be waiting for me punch-drunk in her underpants clasping a half-empty bottle of vodka.
The window on the passenger's side is smashed. Things never keep going the way they're going. The seat is covered with tiny bits of glass and the glove compartment is open. I had only a map-book in it. The bastards took it but left the radio. I don't care for the radio. I don't care for the book either. Right now all I care about is Natalie in her underpants holding a bottle of vodka.
"Honey, listen," I call her up.
"My car has been smashed."
"Oh no, what happened? Are you alright? Did they steal anything? You have to go to the police, Rotem. You have to."
"No, no police."
"But if you won't go to the police, the insurance won't cover it. You have to. You have to go. Talk to me when you're done."
She's got a point there. My vodka and Natalie's underpants will have to wait. The police station is nearby. The guy at the entrance tells me to go to the fourth floor. There's an endless corridor with countless metal doors, all shut but one. There's an officer inside in his uniform. He's playing Spider on the computer.
"I'll be with you in 10 minutes. Go wait in the hall."
That's the second person telling me to go somewhere tonight. I must be doing something wrong.
Four policemen arrive at the door. They're carrying a drunken blond with them. She has a short red skirt and a white tank top. Her pink panties are stretched high over her medium-sized ass. Three of the policemen go inside to play Spider. The one with the least rank stays outside to keep the girl company. Like any other act of the police, this doesn't add up.
The blond has tacky red lipstick smeared over her lips. She's busty and her breasts are bursting out. She would give it up for anything human without thinking twice. The cop starts talking to her about getting braces.
"Did you know the first one was invented almost a century ago?"
She shakes her head with a dopey smile.
The cop is all out of ideas for conversation. That does add up. He tells his friends to hurry up in there. Reminded that there are people outside, the officer shouts from his seat, "Any civilians there, waiting?"
I guess that means me. A civilian. But not a resident. Some statuses you can't waive off. I step inside and the whole thing goes surprisingly well. The officer writes a quick report and gives me a slip for the insurance. Out the door, the young cop is still sitting quietly next to the blond only he has her vomit over his shoes now. The whole vodka idea loses its appeal. I call Natalie anyhow. Maybe she's all drunk and lonesome.
"Hey, it's you" she says. "My friend Stas is here, he's so funny. You can still come if you'd like to. I'd love you to meet Stas, he's such a…"
7:54 PM
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