Okay y’all, this is going to be a PG 13 post, and it’s not my fault. Never, in all my many eons of living in cast housing, have I heard anything this sad that made me question the status of humanity in such a large way.
I was sitting on my bed in my room submitting to a never-ending stream of agents who will in turn send me a non-specific rejection letter — not that I feel bitter or down trodden — and a girl started talking on the other side of the paper-thin wall.
“Can you give me a ride? I left my water bottle on the truck of dude’s car, and it flew out into traffic, and I have to go back for it,” the girl says. Not a huge request. Just a ride to grab something off the road.
They talk a little, and then the girl decides to trade sex for a ride to get her water bottle. Sex to get back a water bottle. SEX for a freaking water bottle!
What followed were six-and-a-half minutes of the worst sex I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. And all for a water bottle! She traded herself for a damn piece of plastic. How low would your self esteem have to be to think that’s an appropriate trade? Why would you risk getting the clap for a water bottle? And what kind of asshole would accept that sort of payment for an easy favor?
I know this is terrible, but I really hope that water bottle was filled with blue crystal meth made by Walt himself that was worth thousands of dollars and she owed a dealer from Mexico a whole bunch of money. Her life was at stake, and she had no choice but to sacrifice her self-worth for six-and-a-half minutes in order to keep the cartel from murdering her entire family, including her little sister’s new kitten.
For some reason, in my head that’s better than six-and-a-half minutes of awkward grunting to get back the free water bottle HR gave you at the beginning of the season. I mean, I have an extra water bottle. If she had knocked on my door, I would have just given it to her. No grunting required.