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Garbage Man Meets Garbage Bag Lady

It happened at Rump's Bar one Friday night...

Rump’s was packed. Libations for everybody.

Sanitation engineer by trade. She's dressed by Glad. Green. I needed to know.

I had barkeep Rump send over an appletini. She glanced my way. I sashayed over, rocking shoulders with exuberant jazz hands. Sexy. Irresistable. I know.

“Expecting rain?” I snorted the obvious opener, and then wiped the chortle-propelled mucus from my upper lip.

She smiled. Or cringed. Didn't care. She was hot.

I wore white. Said I was the man from Glad. She laughed, so I went classic pick-up.

“What’s a nice bag lady like you doin’ in a dump like this?”

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