By Greggor V. Püchaps
Moana adjusted her weight as she sat on the curb, holding a burning cigarette between two fingers, with only two remaining on her right hand. Her fingernails were caked with dirt and a fine layer of green nail polish that was almost entirely scraped off. She sighed, a fine blue smoke flowing from her nostrils in the shape of a small rubber duckey. Moana stood up precariously, finding it hard to remain balanced perched upon 10 inch high heels. Her huge moo-moo hung around her tiny, shrunken body. A piece of rope framed her protruding collar bone. As Moana walked in the direction of First Stop Convenience store, her stomach rumbled...she hadn’t eaten in over 2 days!
Such were the days. With her career as a burlesque performer and proud owner of Moana of the Jungle bar/restaurant now over, she realized a good 10 years later, at the age of 58, that the only thing she could do was go where she had started -- the streets. Her ex-lover and her ex-lover’s baby’s mama now long gone, and her jail sentence well over, she realized she needed to move on up the corporate ladder of her life! She needed money!
“Hey Sally,” said Moana, cowering as a large purple haired transgender prostitute sauntered past her.
“Don’t talk to me, bitch,” said Sally, her low, masculine voice echoing through the dark, deserted alley. Sally’s adam’s apple bobbled up and down similar to the movement of a turkey’s head. “I know you tried to pick up my 1:20 appointment last night...don’t think I don’t remember. Daddy Warbucks only loves Sally. Daddy Warbucks don’t wanna fuck Moana. Okay, chica?”
Moana blushed and looked away as Sally let out a huge fart as she walked right past Moana. What was she to do, thought Moana as the stench of the gas reached her nose. She had already been working the streets for 3 weeks and the only client she had had was a short, green haired elderly lesbian woman. And the thing was, Moana wasn’t even a lesbian! She did whatever she could to get the green-haired woman off, but Moana knew her client always left dissatisfied, perhaps hoping that the next roundez-vous could be the one where they both “climaxed”. Moana learned to dread the meeting between herself and the woman, and did whatever she could. But the money always got her. With the 2 dollars she got for a four hour “massage” session, she could buy herself a hamburger, frenchfries, and a bottle of Hersheys Syrup to tide her over for the week.
“Oh, woah is me,” said Moana, misusing and mispelling in her head a common layman’s phrase. She stopped to remove her 10” high shoes and marched purposefully into the obviously shattered bottle that lay on the ground.
“Ooh!! Ouch! That hurts!” She cried, grabbing onto her bleeding, filthy foot. She jumped too and fro, trying to stop the bleeding, but nothing would work. Luckily, a homeless man came and saw her in pain and walked up to her.
“Hey sugar. For a ‘you know’ I’ll call the ambulance for you using my trusty lil’ cellular phone!”
“That’s not even yours! I saw you stole that from the group of nuns that came through the hood the other day trying to convert the pimps and the hoes!,” gasped Moana, not believing the audacity of the bum.
“Doesn’t matter! It’s mine now!” He laughed, holding the phone just a few feet above Moana’s grasp, leading her to jump hopelessly for it, the glass just becoming more and more ground into her already bloodied stumps.
“Fine!” She gasped, dropping to her knees. “I’ll do it. Just promise me...that you’ll call the ambulance once you come!”
“Fine, sugar. Anything you say!”
Moana proceeded to unzip his fly pull down his pants, but then pulled out a can of Whipped Spray Cheese she had stolen from the 7-11 for her dinner. She quickly filled her mouth with it and swallowed the entirety of the bottle and proceeded to get to business.
After a few minutes, she was bored. “Honey, I want to share something very special. I want you to do as I say.” She led the man so he laid flat on the ground and she was perched on his face. She moaned as she pulled up her moo-moo revealing no drawers! She proceeded to unleash the Hershey Squirts the cheese had provided.
“Mmmmm...feels so good!” She stood up as she realized the bum was dead. She kicked him to the curb -- literally!
“Being a hoe never felt so good,” Moana said triumphantly as she dialed 9-1-1 and winced.
