Ramona and I went out and painted each other red last night. We drank pitchers of Heineken and played the jukebox: X, The Replacements and the new Hot Snakes record.
The cabdriver on the way home volunteered that he was an al-Qaida member.
I said, “Never heard of it. What’s that?”
The guy snorted and kinda laughed. He didn’t explain what al-Qaida was.
“You know what?” I said. “I think I have heard of it, a pro-abortion group, right? They fight outside Planned Parenthood against those people who hold the big signs of the mangled fetuses.”
“No, my friend,” he said as the cab slowed. “We do not abortion.”
Ramona got out first, and I tipped the guy 20 percent.
“Have a good one,” I said. I know where my money’s headed.
“You, my friend, have a good one,” he said without looking at me.
As I walked away and he sped off, it crossed my mind that there should be more abortions. All over the place. Televised and beamed into cafeterias and schools.
After all, it’s legal. And Lord knows there are too many people here.