Merry Band of Morons

Posted: April 13, 2014 in clinic escort stories
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The usual merry band of morons were in the first two hours of an about 4 hour shift. Random McWhiteLady asked me what was the difference between a coat hanger (like the one of my Surly) and a currette. Then she told me, and every other escort there, about the woman in Italy who died after the second dose of the RU abortion pill. Not sure what that had to do with the price of beer in Canada, but okay.

She stopped mid lecture to run, with upside down umbrella and all, to a Muslim woman who walked out of the side entrance to give her pamphlet. Sigh. It was cold and rainy and windy as fuck out and I had my cane, expecting the weather to stiffen my joints. Insert insincere concerns about my health here.

Well, two hours go by, I train a medical student who came down from the clinic to help before the doctors came in, and all of a sudden, like 15 people showed up, wielding signs and changing the group from the usual Tom-fuckery to a clusterfuck of self-righteous posturing for the Lord.

There were children. Two in a double stroller (that they didn’t bother moving to give space to an elderly man leaving the dialysis clinic), some free range. A baby, well two, one was in the stroller, the other was carried around. Did I mention it was cold and windy and nasty outside? These children were freezing as they held signs and were marched around the block. Their parents and fellow prosters were just the worst. The first black protester I’ve seen (and dad to the stroller kids) stood next to the property line and delivered the most boring Bible study in the history of Bible studies. Big ass Bible in hand, monotone voice, asking questions at us, just ugh. I could have pulled a better sermon out of my ass. Creepy Grandpa picked up the little free range baby and practically shoved her into our faces, asking us if this was a child. One of my fellow escort and I had been distracting ourselves with just noise as Preacher Bore was talking, but the baby thing set her off.

“That child isn’t a prop!” she yelled, and CG kept talking, and the sharks starting getting closer, and we both yelled at him to mind the line.

To add a cherry to the shit sundae, the wife of Preacher Bore started in on us with the usual guilt trip BS, even calling back to the “not a prop” outburst. As they were FINALLY leave, she said they would pray for us (with TONS of stank all over that wish), and that may God have mercy on our souls. I asked for physical help to keep me from flipping her dumb ass off.

I managed to keep it until they were crossing the street a block away. And I waved. With one finger. One of the guys must have saw me because if the look he gave me out of his car as he passed could kill, I’d be a bloody smear on the pavement.

So yeah, stiff, in pain, tired, and pissy, I think naps were deserved all around.

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