The Hitcher

It was a cold, wet and stormy night. The wind was whipping the snow and rain all about; the night was dark and visibility was low. I had just left work, it was around two am and I was anxious to get home. Just after turning onto the highway, I saw what appeared to be a fairly young girl huddled against the bus stop sign, with her thumb out, trying to catch a ride. Being the good, kind and gentle soul that I am and feeling sympathy for anyone caught out so late in this weather, I pulled over. Well, she didn’t seem to notice me, so I backed up a bit. Still nothing. I hit the horn; she noticed. She came up to the car and I noticed she was wearing a hooded puffy coat, looking like a half-drowned Stay Puft marshmallow girl. I unlocked the door and she got in the car, water pouring from her in small streams. The poor kid was soaked. I asked her where she was headed and she starts to speak. My first thought was that she was retarded, but then I realize that she’s just really, really stupid and has a speech impediment. She tells me that she needs a ride to the Budget Inn, which is quite a distance, being all of maybe two blocks away from where we are. I have to admit that I felt a little disgusted that this idiot didn’t have the fortitude to walk two blocks, had the stupidity to stand there in the rain instead of hauling ass back to her motel and that she had the audacity to hitch her lazy ass a ride. Whatever. I’m feeling magnanimous, so let’s go. We drove off and that’s when the hammer fell.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, with my being such a stud and all. You’d even be right, sort of… Yes, indeed, because with me, there always has to be that ‘sort of’ moment. Where life just slips into the surreal.

“I was looking to pick someone up,” she blurts out. “Would you like to come back to my room with me?”

I almost slammed on the fucking brakes, right there. Not exactly sure that my brain had processed her words correctly, I blurted back a shocked, “Wait. What?”

Every guy’s fantasy, right? Pick up the hot young chick on the side of the road and bone her, right? Not exactly. I looked at her plump, stupid looking face, huddled in her puffy coat and all I could think about was the Pillsbury Doughboy. I don’t know about you, but personally, I’ve never had a hankering for the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Once again, I stammered, “What?”

“Do you want to come back to my room, with me?” she repeated. “I need money, to pay for my room.”

GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. I am such a fucking moron. It all made sense now, but looking back, you’ll have to excuse me for being ignorant of the etiquette for bus stop hookers. Blame it on too much clean living.

“Ummm… No, thanks,” I replied. “I’m not into that whole thing and I really don’t have any money.”

“Not even for five dollars?” she counter-offered. “I’ll suck you dry, for five dollars.”

Really? A five dollar hooker? GTFO! They haven’t been around since the time of Moses and I should know; I was there. While the bargain basement price of five dollars only made it that much more tempting, somehow, I managed to restrain myself.

“No, thanks,” I said, as we pulled up to her motel, “I’m going to have to pass. It’s late and I need to go home.”

“Can you help me with five dollars?” she pleaded.

Maybe I should have felt bad for her and given her a few bucks, I mean, I can occasionally feel sympathy for other human beings, but this wasn’t Doughboy’s lucky night. I was pretty tapped out, myself and was trying to get my own rent money together. And, I’m pretty much a dick. Let’s not ignore that three hundred pound gorilla in the room.

“I really can’t, I said, “My own rent is due in a few days and I’m scrambling to get it paid on time. Sorry,”

With that, she got out of the car and I watched her waddle her way into the motel lobby. The ungrateful bitch didn’t even thank me, for the ride, but, as they say, “Service is its own reward.”

As I drove off into the storm tossed night, I thought about missed opportunity and I shuddered. Remember kids, no good deed goes unpunished.