When a knock came at my door, I was just coming out of the shower. "Fucking Christ. Iím COMING!" I threw a towel around myself, and turned the volume of my hi-fi down. To think, the caller may have gone deaf from the racket that good Ďole Elmore James can make! I peeped through the hole to see none other than the Beatles. And Iím in a towel. Great, just great. I sighed, and opened the door. They looked stunned to see me only in a towel. Like they havenít seen a practically naked girl before. "Hey." I managed, trying hard not to blush from the once-over I was getting.
"Woah, and hello to you too, luv!" John smacked his lips. I rolled my eyes.
"How can I help ya poor lost lads?" I asked, batting my eyelashes.
"Well, I could think of some things . . ." George said slyly.
"Hereís your ticket and pass, luv." Paul handed the papers over, blushing madly. John sneered at him, but made no remarks. Thatís a rarity. Must treasure this.
"Thanks much. See yíall tonight!" I shut the door, and danced around my tiny apartment, tripping on the couch. "Ouch!" I burst out laughing, and cranked the volume on "Dust My Broom".
Iím going to a Beatlesí concert! Woo hoo! Go to Hell, Painless! I finished toweling my hair, and rummaged in my closet for something to wear. Stupid, too dark, too light, too small, too big, ugly color. Oh, this might work. I tossed a red mini dress onto the bed, and turned back into the mess/ landslide area that was my closet. I grabbed a clingy black dress. Everyone has to have one of these! Mwahahaha! The little black dress is the perfect thing for any occasion. Hell, I could wear this to a funeral! Well, the family may be a tad ticked, but hey! I stood back from the bed, glancing back and forth between the red number, and the black one. So, velour or cotton? Cotton breathes, and a concert may be hot. On the other hand, the red dress has the whole red thing about it. Oh, to hell with it. I knew the scientific method would work. I closed my eyes, and randomly threw my right hand in the air, finger pointed, towards the bed. I opened my baby blues, and my finger was pointed at the dresser. Jesus H. Christ! Well, the red oneís closer to the dresser. Iíll go with that. I grabbed matching red pumps, and ran a brush through my thick brown hair. Hmmm. I kinda need a haircut . . .
And finally, I was done. I power walked down the stairs, out the door, and towards the nearest subway. Three blocks strait ahead, one block East. I rounded the corner, and walked down the steps to the subway. I dug a token out of my purse, and pushed it into the slot, as I went through the rotating bars. I need a, lets think. Number 7 car. Whereís number seven? There it is! I walked down another series of steps from the pedestrian walkways, and to the waiting dock for the number seven car. I waited, and glanced at the clock. I was going to be late if this train wasnít on time. Come on, whereís a train when ya need one? I glanced at the arrival time posted on the wall, which was surrounded by graffiti. Another look at the clock told me I had another minute and six seconds. I tapped my foot impatiently. After a whole minute, I heard the rumble of the incoming subway car. I dashed by me. Chun-chink, chun-chink, chun-chink. Car after car passed, gradually slowing. Several people appeared around me, waiting to board. The train stopped, and the door opened. Busy travelers poured out, and I pushed my way in, and got a seat before anyone else could leave me to stand. I placed my purse on my lap, and the train rockily proceeded on its way. Then an announcerís voice came over the speaker: "It looks like we may experience some delays due to some congestion ahead . . ." Everyone on the subway groaned, and looked at their watches. I leaned over the shoulder of the guy next to me. Sure enough. I was going to be late.
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