I don’t recall how the conversation started, but I think it was when the pig monster was reaching behind my head for a toy on a shelf. She was leaning on me, breathing heavily with crusty boogers at the edge of her nose, forearm covered with a nice glaze of mucus from a day of wiping. So me and the miserable son of a biitch start talking. He asked me if I had any kids I looked at the pig monster and said, "im dodging that bullet as long as I can," he replied "good, once you have kids, its all over." He asked if I was married, and answered
, he laughed. Then he went on to tell me that his wife was a fat biitch, how hard he worked and it was never enough for her. He worked days and she worked nights. He asked what I did and I told him (I'm just a student 
), with each of my responses I could tell I was killing him slowly, like he reflected back on his life and relived every mistake he’s ever made.Now this entire conversation did not go without any interruptions. Every three words or so his daughter would ask him for a dollar, then kick him when he ignored her. She threw herself on the floor several times which set off a car alarms in the parking lot. Cried that she was hungry and wanted Mcdonalds. Asked for a dollar, then kicked him again. This whole time he's still talking to me, trying to act like the pig monster isn’t a pig monster.
Robert, my barber, an black man in his early 60's, was visibly irritated. He would glance over his shoulder to the waiting area and look at the miserable son of a biitch and the pig monster
. The man next to me just read the paper, didn’t say a word or even look when the pig monster was rolling around by his feet and pushing around the rest of the newspaper that was on the table.At a half hour a head this was the longest wait in history, I really just wanted to read the Post and eat my snacks. Instead I was stuck talking to the father of the year and daddy's little mistake. Any time there was a break in the conversation id look down into my magazine hoping he'd stop talking to me...didn’t work
. I started to feel bad for the guy, as much as he was talking I could tell he probably hadn’t had an ear to listen to him for a while. His wife obviously walked all over him and his daughter was following in her footsteps, his son was a chip off the old block and take the abuse his younger sister delivered. She would run from one end of the shop directly to him, jump and shoulder slam him, kid just took it.Time passed, slowly, the conversation continued, the pig monster ran her shock and awe campaign and Rob would look over
. The pig monster continue to cry that she was hungry. She laid down next to me and stretched her chubby arms out and wiggled her billy deans near my package of cupcakes, I didn’t look down out at her, but I could hear the bag crinkle. Her dad just smiled and shook his head like "isn’t she cute" no sir, she isn’t I thought to myself.Finally it was his turn to get his cut, the pig monster continued on, sliding around the bench and falling off, shattering windows of nearby businesses. Pushing the newspaper off the table, shoulder slamming her brother and crying that she was hungry. Finally, a chance to read and eat my tasty treats...The pig monster was sitting directly across from me, cheeks so fat they made her eyes squint, arms crossed, kicking her legs. I open my cupcakes and she looks at me
. She looked at me like when Marla looked at Steve Urkle. I SMH'd and looked back at my magazine, she slowly made her way around the waiting area, kicking her brother, knocking over a chair then catapillaring her way across the L shaped bench next to me. I looked over and she looked up at me 
. I looked down at her smiled 
and took the biggest, slowest, bottom lip quivering, hand trembling, crumb flaking, frosting dripping bite I could. She watched me the whole time almost like SHE could taste it 
, her arms flinching like she was holding herself back from ripping it out of my mouth.That moment alone was worth the hour and a half wait.
Fin.
