After a prolonged absense from this iteration of my blogging life, I feel inspired to return to writing therapy. And, frankly, what's more inspiring than a story of whoring in my neighborhood?
Police in my pleasant Kansas City suburb recently cited two 30-somethings for prostituting themselves within about a mile of my house. Shit, I've unknowingly jogged past the scene of these crimes several days a week in recent months. Meanwhile, some of the Johns who were seeking alternative methods of exercise thought it was appropriate to park at a nearby church when visiting these unholy women. Interesting, not exactly what I'd call doing the lord's work.
All of this in Prairie Village, a place that sounds more like a town that would have a law against dancing, like in Footloose. A place that some really annoying people around here refer to as Perfect Village. But it all comes crashing down. As if housing depreciation, foreclosures and retail failures across the country aren't enough. Bring on the whores in Prairie Village.
What the hell?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment