Dumb Blondes

LaSheeka hits me up on the handheld radio:

“Lance come to the lobby; we have a situation.”

“Okay. On my way.”

Got there. Discovered some young blonde damsel in distress, Sobbing.

“What’s the matter Girl?”  I asked.

(LaSheeka looked at me and rolled her eyes—yeah, I caught that look—she and I were mind melded—almost mentally joined at the hip.

Blonde says, “My boyfriend has abused me. He is drunk. I just want him to go away.”

“What room you in?” I asked

“902”

“Ok. Let’s go there.”

“Please don’t hurt him. And don’t call the police. I just want him to go away.”

“No worries Lil Lady.”

We arrived at the room.

I confronted Mister Asshole.

(Who was Half- Naked and Barefooted.)

“Hey  Dude! Guess what? You are out of here! Come with me!”

“Can I at least get my shit?”

“No! Come with me Asshole!”

He did and I threw him out.

Onto the Memphis Streets. At two o’clock in the morning.

Over his protestations.

Eventually he came wandering back into the lobby of Hotel Indigo.

I looked at LaSheeka and said,

“Call Memphis Finest before I kill this mother-fucker.”

She did.

Police showed up.

And sorted it all out.

Asshole and GF made up.

And went back to their room.

(Fucking women.)

Wasting my time.

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