I was stopped at a red light as I pulled off the 405,
when I saw a gaggle of kids [eight of 'em to be specific] selling oranges on
the side of the off-ramp. Usually I'm not one who is prone to purchasing my
citrus from unlicensed off-ramp vendors, but I was feelin' a bit scurvyey [it's
a word, look it up, PS, if you take the time to look it up, to can take the
time to piss off while yer at it--sorry I didn't mean it, whenever I feel scurvyey I get a little irritable...].
"Hey kid, how much for a bag of oranges?"
"Five bucks," one of them says. I call her
Mahalo, she looks like a Mahalo to me.
"So hey, where are your parents?" I ask, not to
be creepy, but because I have no doubt that I can haggle these little twonks
down to a buck fifty per bag.
"Our mom is over there," Maholo2 says, pointing
at a crazy looking woman across the street. It didn't take a fool to recognize,
by the severe haircut and sassy stare that'll cut a diamond, that is was none
other than Kate Gosselin. But if you were a fool, you could tell by the sign
she was holding that begged "I'm Kate Gosselin, Put Me On
Television!"
Now I'm not one to play Child Protective Services, but, like
I said, I was feelin' a bit irritable, so I pull over to the curb across the
street in front of Kate. She sneers at me as I alight from my vehicle.
"You're blocking my view." She says with a
growl.
"What'cha doin'?" I ask, but she just stares at
me with her dead eyes. So I pop my iPhone out of my purse and start recording
her with the camera. Her whole demeanor changed instantly as she lit up with a
smile. A camera is like heroin for those affected by media whore syndrome,
commonly known as Kuntrashian Disease.
"I'm just trying to pitch a new reality show,
staring me, Kate Gosselin. After all, I need to maintain the lifestyle that I have grown accustomed
to," she says. I look around and spy a homeless man using a twig wrapped
in a candy wrapper trying to lure Mahalo4 [or was it Mahalo6?] into the bushes.
"Bitch, then get a job like the rest of us," I
say, putting my phone away.
"My fans want me back on television!" she cries
as the harsh reality of realness settles back in with the absence of seeing her
reflection in the camera lens. I sigh as I get back in my car and drive back
around to the kids. All seven kids pile in and we drive off down the street,
leaving Kate staring blankly at a passing cloud.
"So where is your dad?" I ask.
"He's living in a van down by the river,"
Mahalo8 says.
"Lordy Lou," I sigh as I pull to the side of
the road. "Out, get out, all of you! Yer all better off selling oranges by
the side of the road." I shout, as they pile out of the car. I sit for
a minute in the idling car as I watch them all slowly walking down the street.
Something inside me breaks and I pull up to them again. "Gimme a bag of
oranges," I say, handing them a five dollar bill. I didn't even try to
haggle the down.
