The
other weekend after I was at the beach all day I met up with my one hippie
friend from Michigan to do a crossword together, and since we both felt like
ice cream, we went to this candy shop near her apartment and grabbed some ice
cream (me: 2 scoop waffle cone with cake batter on top and chocolate-peanut
butter on the bottom; her: bowl of rum raisin).
Then, we
sat out on the patio and ate our ice cream and did a really tough variety
cryptic.
After we
finished it and had basked in our glory and she was smoking and I was packing
up to go, I noticed that the windowfront candymaker was this (thin) (black)
(high school age) girl in an orange t-shirt tucked into supertight jean shorts
cut off way high, like after her leg ended and where her butt was already
beginning.
There
must have been music in the store or something, since she was dancing kind of
obliviously and swinging her butt from side to side and bobbing her head and
doing something with the toffee out on the table.
And, just as I caught sight of this, this large group of (black) adults walked by, and one guy saw her and was like, “That girl needs to go home and change those short shorts.”
“Hey,” I
was like, “I just saw that too. I mean,
what’s up, is this a Hooter’s?”
They all
broke out laughing as they continued walking by, and as they were walking up
the street, I could hear a (black) woman say, “He say, ‘What’s up, is this a
Hooter’s?’” in that intonation where I’ve heard (black) people repeat a joke
with the formula “he/she say…”, and after she had repeated what I had said, she
started laughing uproariously again.
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