The Second Run: Second Stop

I got back in the van and drove to the adult arcade. There were a bunch of young people standing around a white dog. The white dog was wearing some kind of coat which one of the boys was trying to arrange. The boy was wearing a beanie. The dog’s coat was purple.

One of the girls in the group said, ‘He’s so nice.’ And I wasn’t sure if she was talking about me or the dog, because I didn’t look at her. I might have known her from somewhere. My mind instantly went to the girl who gave me that free coffee from the little jester coffee shop connected to Viva La Tribulations.

She has a nose ring, and these young people seemed artistically deep.

They were probably talking about the dog.

There was a guy who works at the arcade going into the arcade at the same time as me. He opened the door for me. I thanked him. A handsome, young black man was coming towards the exit/entrance as I was entering.

I’m sorry I called him black, but I feel it necessary to add this to his description. The fact sticks out in my mind. I will try to label white people as white more often, and black people not as black.

He smiled at me and let me pass. The guy who let me in let me further in, opening the saloon door to the back.

There is a keypad which locks the furthest back back’s door. The door opens into an office. A picture of Christopher Walken is attached to the walk-in refrigerator which is next to the office. I knock on the office door. The red and blonde head white cutie, probably with a nose-ring, lets me in. She smiles at me. She has been progressively more friendly with each visit. I think she likes me, but she was probably talking about the dog.

There are a whole bunch of quarters in a Tupperware container sitting in the place I am supposed to drop the liquor. There is another person, a brown guy, in the office who gets up from his chair and moves the quarters. I put the liquor in the open spot and get of of the office, because they don’t like me being in there when they open the safe to get the checks.

I wait outside the saloon door while the colorful hair, nose ring white girl fills out the check. The white bartender approaches the white man who let me in and tells him about a girl and a guy and maybe some more kids who were causing some sort of scene. I imagine it must be the kids with the white dog. The white man who let me in must have seen them. I can’t hear what the bartender and the man who let me in are saying. I don’t want them to think I am eavesdropping. But I really do wonder what they are saying.

They were probably talking about the dog.

The white girl with the blonde hair returns from the office, smiling as she hands me the check. I tell her I’ll see her next time, and I imagine she is thinking, ‘I look forward to it.’

The kids are gone when I go back outside. I wonder if the white man who let me in told them to go away.

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