THE RETURN

Put the word out, It’s official, the fat man is back…

Since you all were so patient with my melodramatic antics and lack of production, I’ve decided to truly give back… For sticking with me this long I will now reward you by revealing an embarrassing, bizarre, and totally secret story of a late night incident that happened to me almost 4 years ago… I have never told ANYONE this story.

Not my wife, not my sister, not even Moe Greene.

It involves a hooker, a cell phone, and a long night that went terribly wrong…

One night I got a call to go on an emergency job at a building in Baltimore.

I won’t go into the specific details of the job, but it is important to know that the job was conducted in the evening from about 5 pm until about 1 am… I had already worked all day, so by the time I got done, I was very tired.

It’s also important to note that, at the time, I didn’t know Baltimore very well. When I went to leave the job, I got a little lost… okay, I got a LOT lost.

As I was driving around looking for whatever street I was looking for, I realized that not only was I in the Ghetto, but there were a lot of “ladies of the night” prowling around. It was not the kind of place where I wanted to be lost at 1 a.m.

I was starting to get a little nervous. I had driven in so many circles that I had no idea which way was North/South/East/West… I decided to pull over on a side street and whip out my map… it wasn’t the brightest idea, but I was very tired, and the street I pulled over on looked relatively safe considering the neighborhood.

Not even 30 seconds after I pull over and get the map out, I see a hooker approaching my car… I tried to wave her away and motion that I wasn’t interested, but she either didn’t see me, or ignored me.

She walked right up to my passenger door and began pulling on the handle. Luckily, the door was locked… I reached for the button to lower the window so I could explain that I wasn’t interested, but in my panic, I hit the wrong button! I hit the un-lock button. Just as I did this, she yanked on the handle once more and, whoosh, the door swung open and the “lady” hops in.

It happened really fast. As you can imagine I was a little freaked out… Not to mention nervous, afraid, panicked, etc. To be honest, I'm not sure if I posses enough adjectives in my vocabulary to properly convey the range of emotion and fear coursing through my veins at that moment.

The first thing I noticed was the huge red wig and the long fingernails… She appeared to be in her mid to late 40’s… She flashed me a wicked grin.

Before I even had a chance to get my bearings straight she started yelling, “Drive baby, drive! There’s cops all over tonight, I ain’t trying to get locked up.” Without thinking, I did what she told me to do. I pulled away from the curb and started to drive down the street. Meanwhile the little voice in the back of my head was screaming, "What the hell are you doing!?"

The hooker started eyeing me up and down… “My, my, my, aren’t you a young one,” she purred.
I didn’t know what to say.

“Who are… What are… Um, SHIT, where am I going?” I finally managed to ask.

“Relax baby, you’re going with me…” she replied.

“Look I don’t think you understand why I stopped…” I started to explain.

“I know why you stopped baby,” she said as she gave me a wink.

This confused me even more; did she know I was lost?

Before I could even ask what that meant, she yanked her top down, and BAM- Two massive, old, saggy, and well-used boobs fell out of her top.

They literally landed on her lap… it was really nasty.

“You stopped for these baby!” she laughingly yelled as she began shaking to shake them from side to side.

I wanted no part of whatever she was suggesting. This was getting out of hand very quickly.

“Wait a second… I was just reading a map and you hoped in my car- I didn’t stop for you.” I replied in a firm voice.

“Oh come on baby, I saw you circlin’ the block… you know why you stopped.”

With that, she reached across the seat and put her hand directly on my crotch… I almost lost control of the car at that point.

“What are you doing!? Don’t touch me there, I don’t even know you…”

“Well let me introduce myself… My name is ‘Rita the Peter Eater’ and I’m mighty pleased to meet’cha!”

This woman was clearly insane… and topless... and disgusting. Not to mention that all of a sudden my car reeked of cigarette smoke, and she wasn’t even smoking.

“Look, ah, Rita… er, Ms. Peter… or whatever your name is-"

“My name is ‘Rita the Peter Eater’, and baby you ain’t eva gonna forget me!”

(Despite her insanity, she was right actually, because here I am years later and I still remember Rita and what she likes to eat)

I pushed her hand away from my crotch and tried once again to explain what had happened, the misunderstanding and all, but she wasn’t getting it.

Things basically continued that way for the next 5 minutes… her trying to talk me into giving her money for oral favors- and me trying to explain to her the tragic
miscommunication we had.

I was still trying to drive while at the same time suppress what I really wanted to do... which was scream/yell/cry/have a heart attach! I was lost in the Ghetto, tired, there was a nasty, topless, hooker in my car... and there was no end in site!

Finally, after she reached across my lap once more, I got angry and just pulled the car over and told her to get out… She replied with, “I ain’t never getting out this mutha fuckin’ car ‘til you pay me some money!”

I ended up agreeing to give her $20 bucks in exchange for her getting out of my car and giving me directions on how to get back out of the city.

Dazed, confused, embarrassed, and bewildered, I started my journey back home. “Rita the Peter Eater’s” directions were actually good and I was back onto the highway in no time.

As I started my drive home I began to replay the whole bizarre incident over and over in my head... By the time I had made it halfway home, I was actually able to laugh about the whole situation. I suddenly had the urge to tell someone the story. I had a friend I knew would be awake so I decided to call him.

I reached for my phone… wait a second… where is my phone? I was sure I had left it in the cup holder, but now it wasn’t there… I checked all my pockets... nothing.

My jacket on the back seat... nothing.

The map holder thing on the side of the door... nothing.

I even checked the glove compartment... and again, nothing.

Maybe I left it at the job?

Then it hit me; “Rita the Peter Eater!”

That bitch must have snatched my phone!

Thoughts of her making calls all over the world passed through my mind… Or worse yet, what if she started dialing the numbers in my phone! And how the hell was I going to explain to my boss that a hooker had stolen my company phone!?

There was only one thing to do… I got off on the next exit and started making my way back towards Baltimore. I had to get my phone back!

I started mapping out a strategy in my head… I would go back to that neighborhood and just keep driving around until I saw her, and then I would pounce. I had a tire iron in the back of the car and if need be, I was mad enough to use it.

There would be no questions, or polite requests… That bitch was going to give me my phone back or I was going to go Tiger Woods with the tire iron… I was that angry.

I started thinking about the possible consequences like, what if there was a pimp there? Or worse yet, the police!?

I could see the headlines in the paper the next day: “22 Year Old Man arrested for beating a prostitute with a tire iron in Baltimore’s inner city…”

How do I get myself into shit like this?! My stomach was in knots… All I wanted was to go home and sleep, and now here I was speeding down Baltimore City streets in search of hooker that I wanted bludgeon with a tire iron!

I was now only blocks away from where I had dropped “Rita” off... I was driving WAY over the speed limit when I suddenly approached an intersection with a four way stop. There were no cars approaching but there was a pedestrian attempting to cross right in front of me… I slammed on the breaks with all my force… As the car came to a screeching halt, something flew out from underneath the seat and landed by my feet.

I reached down… It was my cell phone! It had been under my seat the whole time… I felt stupid, but relieved.

I looked up to see how close I had come to hitting the pedestrian and who do I see? The one and only, “Rita the Peter Eater.”

I had come within inches of taking her out.

She looked me dead in the eye with an angry look. She was still standing in front of my car.

“You again!” she screamed.

I was stunned... I had no idea what to say or do… She took a step towards my door… I wasn’t going to be sticking around long enough for her to hop in again, that’s for sure.

I put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas… she tried to chase as I sped down the block in reverse, but she was no match. I could still hear her still screaming obscenities at me as I turned the corner and put it back in drive.

I don’t know what ever happened to “Ms. Rita the Peter Eater,” but I still think of her every time I find myself searching through my car for my cell phone.

Anyway… it’s good to be back and blogging, and let me share some words of wisdom based on my experience... If you're ever in a situation where you think a hooker has stolen your cell phone, please remember to check under the seat before you drive all the way to Baltimore and hit her with a tire iron... If you take anything from this blog, please remember that.

Thanks again to everybody for being so patient... and thanks to Moe Greene for filling in while I was gone.