Hollywoodland
better what than red in the head?
Heading towards the Gulch. A large disheveled white guy with a crazy look in his eye starts towards me. I have my sunglasses on thank God.
“Hey! Give me some money!”
Walking.
“Got any crack? Give it to me!”
Keep walking. I wonder if he’s going to lunge for my purse ’cause I can see him out of the corner of my eye and he’s got some bad juju. He ain’t getting his hands on my Longchamp no matter what. The embarrassing thing is, I’m wearing clogs, ’cause I’m going out later and left my cool boots at my desk. Then I think, y’know, that’s not such a bad thing, cuz I can always take one off and wallop him on the head.
“You got directions to the 101?!” he screams. “Money! Crack!”
Someone across the street is watching this and starts yelling at him to leave the girl alone. I’m way past him now anyway.
“Fucking redhead! Bitch! Turn the fuck around REDHEAD!”
Why do they always have to make it about the hair? WHY?
