Mary, Mary Quite the Prostitute

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I'm acting like a skek now.

Today, I rode up and down the elevator a dozen times. Just had to have my Skeksie Ride today. Well, I'm not as aimless as a Skek doing it though. I didn't drop my slacks and play with my love pole or diddle my happy button, I just had to go down to see my psych, then had to go up to get a book, then go back down to see my psych and my social worker, then...



I had to see my social worker because I needed to get on the list for the food pantry today. A few weeks ago I got downstairs too late and had to do without. And in my world, you miss one food pantry, one soup line, one food stamp and you STARVE. You don't miss a meal you miss a bunch of meals. If you ever want to know what that feels like, just don't eat for twenty four hours, and pray really, really hard that you don't have to do that a few more times. Trust me, you won't like it, and you wont miss another food pantry if you do.



But truthfully, I swear, after the third day, the hunger pangs go away completely. This is not a lie. I'm telling you a known fact! So, I got on the list today, and then after talking to my psych I went out to drop off my prescriptions, then back upstairs, another skek ride, to get my food pantry bag. Food Pantry bags are important. Mine is durable, with fold in and out wheels so that I can literally fold them up, then fold up the bag until it looks like a stylish purse and tuck it under my armpit. Skek style in action.



I got my pantry bag two years ago in the homeless shelter. I won it in a bingo game and I didn't know what the fuck it was at first. I thought it was just for luggage, so that's what I used it for. Although I could fold it up. I never really knew why that was. Then, one day I went to a food pantry and they just gave me food. You know, cans, boxes, bags of beans and rice...dry goods and a pat on the back. I looked back at them quizzically. What? I'm supposed to carry these?

What? They asked me, do you think WE are?



So I needed something light, easy to carry, could carry a great deal of weight, and can do so com- fortably. Then I remem- bered the bingo game and my new luggage that I don't really use as luggage. So from then on my prize became my tool. With it I walked down to 85th street to the food pantry there and went food shopping in their mini-mart. In a way it's nice, because you can go 'shopping' and pick whatever you want, but the selection is surprisingly low as well as the amounts, and what you can chose from is equally confusing.



They give you units, and categories, and amounts and they pile up so much confusion with it that you almost always need someone of them to walk around with you to point what you can take and what you can't. The most insane thing about it is that everyone that is there to show and explain to you what you are doing does not speak English well. So basically, you're fucked trying to understand, trying to understand them. Who cares! I just go through it all, picking up this and that and my thinking is that if I pick up too much, you'll tell me to put it back.



Then from there I head home and hop on the elevator behind this huge Skek who looked like a cross between Big Foot, Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster. This big mother fucker steps into the elevator, I shit you not, stops in the middle of it and just stands there facing the wall. I can barely step into the elevator to get the fuck in. Hey, I ask his broad back, can I get in too? He looks over his shoulder, spying me, and then lumbers around, his tiny gerbil brain trying to negotiate his Frankenstein body. As he wobbles in the SAME LOCATION, I use his awkwardness against him, slipping past him, to his retarded consternation and press the button to my floor. Thanks Mr. Monster. Master is upstairs. He'll reward you. Grrrr





I take the Skeksie ride with him, strapping him into the seat so that he will not fall out and play the cirucus music so he can laugh and clap his hands like a trained monkey. When he gets off his floor I feel dread. I have to come out again, go to another food pantry and ride this elevator once more.

I am not happy.


But I'll end this story here.....

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