The Ratchet Walk of Shame

It was a beautiful Sunday morning.  It was my second time out since I was run over by a car, and I was looking forward to being on the road.  I was just hoping I could stay out for a little longer than 3 hours before being in a lot of pain again.

I  picked up this guy, who ended up sitting in my back seat. He decided that he wanted to get a Lyft Line instead of a normal Lyft.  An adventurous thing in my book to do on a Sunday morning.

We were driving towards his destination, when the little bell on my phone dinged. The map without second thought,  changed automatically, to pick up our next passenger.

There wasn’t much traffic and we ended up at a quaint red painted town home..

Then she came out… it was like watching a walking disasterpiece.

Lets take a 360 vision of this poor woman:

  1. Hair strewn almost straight up before making a U-turn at the top to make its way back down.
  2. Lipstick smeared allll the way over to her ear… not sure how she accomplished this, but BRAVO!
  3. I think she some how managed to put her bra on only half way, because one boob was flailing under her shirt while the other one looked cupped. This is what is now known as a Booby Houdini!
  4.  Booty shorts… Without the proper underlining… Stop… should have made a mental note as she was walking… but didn’t.
  5. The half zipped hooker boot.  Yes the other stands strong, while one sinks sadly towards the pull of gravity. A broken boot is a sad boot.
  6. something stained heavily on her shirt.

Comments that come from my back seat:

  1. What the hell?!
  2. Is she alive?
  3. Girl got tore up from the floor up.
  4. I mean girl is MESSED UP!

She opens the door and smiles… I almost laugh because of the lipstick.  Then the leg comes in…

Back Seat Commentary 2:

  1. DAAAAAAAAAAMN!

Yes, as the leg comes in, you see that she’s not just not wearing the appropriate accompaniment to her booty shorts, but she’s wearing nothing under them at all. What is worse, is that the middle is ripped open… and landing… slowly … in horror… onto .. gulp… my leather seat… (I let out a small gasp of dismay)… and lord you could smell that thing from a mile away.

As she hears the commentary from the back, she laughs and snorts.  She then looks at me and says, I had an awesome night.

I nodded, and contemplated how much sanitizing my seat would need when she got out…

When I finally dropped her off , I nearly gagged when she got out, because something had dripped out of her, from her wild night.

I V-lined it to the nearest hand car wash and let them deal with that. No way I was going to near it.

NOW THAT IS RATCHET!

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The Ratchet Walk of Shame

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