Thursday, February 05, 2004

The Lady is a Tramp

Loretta is a neighborhood nuisance of a homeless woman in her mid-forties (although it's hard to tell because of her deep exposure tan; alcohol and the elements really are hell on your skin) who is a tramp in every meaning of the word. One of her favorite pastimes is to entertain gentlemen callers in the public women's restroom in the park. The beat cops know when Loretta is in there because there will be a queue of men waiting their turn outside the stall door. She doesn't even charge money, so the cops don't bother arresting her for prostitution. How pathetic is that? My favorite patron, the Feisty Old Broad, has a very low opinion of Loretta for this: "Women who give it away for free should be shot!" The FOB also told me that Loretta comes from a well-to-do family and receives money each month from a trust, which combined with her money from the Cash, Not Care program of this sickly codependent city keeps Loretta well stocked in booze.

One thing Loretta does not use the public bathroom for is to go to the bathroom. When nature calls Loretta answers, and due to her massive intake of intoxicating liquids, it calls frequently. On many occasions I have suffered to the sight of her fat white ass hovering between parked cars in front of the branch, the fuzzy ball on her signature purple tam-o-shanter bobbing as she squats. It's a common sight to see her peeing in the park, in the alley, on the sidewalk or wherever she may happen to be when she feels the urge.

Loretta has been hanging around the library lately because she has been eightysixed for two weeks from the homeless center down the street. She was spotted leaving waste of a more solid nature on the doorstep of one of the merchants who has the grave misfortune of being adjacent to this shelter, which a certain big shot movie producer opened up as a ploy to relocate the homeless who were loitering and harassing the customers in front of his own restaurant a few blocks away. During her temporary exile she has taken residence in one of our homeless friendly garden nooks of the library, where I have to listen to her simpering cackle as she holds court and flirts with a group of male homeless admirers that always seem to surround her. I am hoping that she behaves herself and doesn't get kicked out of the shelter permanently because each morning we have to clean up a trashcan's worth of empty 40's, cigarette butts, cardboard, and other detritus from Loretta's boogie nights. It's a real drag.

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