The Nerve

So I'm outside smoking a cigarette when Chuck's cousin starts walking towards me. She was looking real pretty in her jean shorts and oversized hanes t-shirt with "GUCCI" silkscreened on top, one that she bought from the souvenir man on the corner. Anyway, as she gets closer I notice that on each wrist is a hospital bracelet, and she's mumbling to herself. Great, I'm about to be accosted by some women who escaped either from a mental institution or her trailer.

"Excuse me sir" she says. "But can I have a cigarette?"
"Sorry," I say, "But I left them upstairs in my office." Which was true. I learned a long time ago only to bring one cig with me outside.
She lets out a deep, forlorn breath, "Oh." But then suddenly an idea pops into her big ass head. "Well can I have a drag?

HUH?!? Bitch no! If you think for one second I'm going to put my mouth around that cigarette after your herpes infested lips have touched it you are insane. Oh wait. You are insane. I had half a mind to drop it on the ground, stomp it out, and go inside. But she was bigger than me, and would probably hurt me.

So instead I said, "Here take the rest" and turned and walked away muttering "you stupid cunt."

The nerve of some people. Maybe if she had taken her meds back in '79 like her doctor had suggested she wouldn't be crazy and homeless. And instead could afford her own pack of cigarettes.