Read Online Ledge Walkers by Rosalyn Wraight - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosalyn Wraight
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ladies,” I ordered, and we stretched to hold hands and bags between us.
“One,” and we jumped. “Two,” and we jumped. “Three,” and we jumped, and then we ran a few more steps for good measure.
Susan mimed her thanks when we met up with them. Order returned, and we ignored Maggie's questions. What you don't know can't hurt you. Unless of course, it was cancer or a booger hanging out your nose during a job interview.
As if on cue in our little fiasco, cadaver dog four went off, “Holy shit, another pair of panties! A thong this time!"
"Well, at least we now know it was two women. For some stupid reason that somehow makes it seem better.Should it?"
"Yeah, but who was driving the frickin’ car while these undies were tossed?"
"Oh sweet Jesus, let's stop even thinking about it!"
Eventually, we came to the marker that indicated our half-assed job was complete:Sponsored by DWD. As disgusting as the past hour and a half had been, that sign did indeed seemed to make up for it all. We were fine, upstanding citizens, doing our Al Gore-y part to save the earth. And, we were on the map!
Like self-absorbed idiots, we congregated around the pole in the ground, waving to cars and pointing to the sign.
We were violating one of the blessed safety rules: Do not interact with traffic. Rule breaking or not, it felt good.
Most people were quite enthusiastic and just as unaware of what DWD meant. Then, unfortunately, one of those catcalling pickups approached. Like Laura said: There will always be idiots.
Suddenly, the U sound in W ceased to exist. Holly pulled up her shirt as high as it would go and screamed, “D
Double D. Read ‘em and weep, you jerks!"
How the hell flashing oneself could possibly be seen as an affront to a carload of lechers—that was far beyond me, but it was awfully damn funny. I even knew it shouldn't have been, but it was. Fine, upstanding citizens?Oh yeah.
As the mandatory hysterics began, we tied our trash bags, removed and threw our gloves on top, and then placed the bags the specified distance from the shoulder. We made our way back to the short bus, which now fit us like a glove we had just trashed. We stayed to the shoulder, avoiding panties, condoms, and other dead things.
We entered the bus, and I hoped to hell that Phyllis hadn't seen anything.
Then I noticed all the dirty looks being shot my way. Not a one took aim at Claudia. Like Holly, she always appeared the innocent one, and like Laura, I always appeared the culprit. I knew the task would not be well received; Claudia had warned me a hundred times. God forbid, you dared teeter on the edge of what was comfortable! I looked over the ledge now and envisioned my reputational suicide.
"Do-gooder!” Laura said, and it became a mantra amongst them.
"What? We did do something good!” I defended, although I knew that I would return to our section tomorrow to take care of what we as a group were too squeamish to accomplish.
The mantra did not stop, and I finally admitted, “Okay, it was disgusting! I'm sorry. Do-gooder means I will do gooder next time."
"Gee, Sutter!” Laura said. “We're just giving you a hard time."
Oh. I knew that.
Halfway back to our house, Susan made the comment that she felt “yucky” and asked if we could all take showers. Claudia assured her that we could, but she warned that it would take a while for all nine of us and that the last several might be awfully cold. That was when your yoga instructor cautiously mentioned that she could get us in and out of the Y undetected. I thought that was a brilliant idea, assuming, of course, that we took proper precautions. I asked Phyllis if she could still fit that into her schedule, and she said it was not a problem.
Ten minutes later, we parked outside the Y. Alison snuck Ginny, Claudia, Holly, and Susan in first. The rest of us waited. Laura and I desperately enjoyed a cigarette while Kris and Maggie ran across the street to fetch coffees
“One,” and we jumped. “Two,” and we jumped. “Three,” and we jumped, and then we ran a few more steps for good measure.
Susan mimed her thanks when we met up with them. Order returned, and we ignored Maggie's questions. What you don't know can't hurt you. Unless of course, it was cancer or a booger hanging out your nose during a job interview.
As if on cue in our little fiasco, cadaver dog four went off, “Holy shit, another pair of panties! A thong this time!"
"Well, at least we now know it was two women. For some stupid reason that somehow makes it seem better.Should it?"
"Yeah, but who was driving the frickin’ car while these undies were tossed?"
"Oh sweet Jesus, let's stop even thinking about it!"
Eventually, we came to the marker that indicated our half-assed job was complete:Sponsored by DWD. As disgusting as the past hour and a half had been, that sign did indeed seemed to make up for it all. We were fine, upstanding citizens, doing our Al Gore-y part to save the earth. And, we were on the map!
Like self-absorbed idiots, we congregated around the pole in the ground, waving to cars and pointing to the sign.
We were violating one of the blessed safety rules: Do not interact with traffic. Rule breaking or not, it felt good.
Most people were quite enthusiastic and just as unaware of what DWD meant. Then, unfortunately, one of those catcalling pickups approached. Like Laura said: There will always be idiots.
Suddenly, the U sound in W ceased to exist. Holly pulled up her shirt as high as it would go and screamed, “D
Double D. Read ‘em and weep, you jerks!"
How the hell flashing oneself could possibly be seen as an affront to a carload of lechers—that was far beyond me, but it was awfully damn funny. I even knew it shouldn't have been, but it was. Fine, upstanding citizens?Oh yeah.
As the mandatory hysterics began, we tied our trash bags, removed and threw our gloves on top, and then placed the bags the specified distance from the shoulder. We made our way back to the short bus, which now fit us like a glove we had just trashed. We stayed to the shoulder, avoiding panties, condoms, and other dead things.
We entered the bus, and I hoped to hell that Phyllis hadn't seen anything.
Then I noticed all the dirty looks being shot my way. Not a one took aim at Claudia. Like Holly, she always appeared the innocent one, and like Laura, I always appeared the culprit. I knew the task would not be well received; Claudia had warned me a hundred times. God forbid, you dared teeter on the edge of what was comfortable! I looked over the ledge now and envisioned my reputational suicide.
"Do-gooder!” Laura said, and it became a mantra amongst them.
"What? We did do something good!” I defended, although I knew that I would return to our section tomorrow to take care of what we as a group were too squeamish to accomplish.
The mantra did not stop, and I finally admitted, “Okay, it was disgusting! I'm sorry. Do-gooder means I will do gooder next time."
"Gee, Sutter!” Laura said. “We're just giving you a hard time."
Oh. I knew that.
Halfway back to our house, Susan made the comment that she felt “yucky” and asked if we could all take showers. Claudia assured her that we could, but she warned that it would take a while for all nine of us and that the last several might be awfully cold. That was when your yoga instructor cautiously mentioned that she could get us in and out of the Y undetected. I thought that was a brilliant idea, assuming, of course, that we took proper precautions. I asked Phyllis if she could still fit that into her schedule, and she said it was not a problem.
Ten minutes later, we parked outside the Y. Alison snuck Ginny, Claudia, Holly, and Susan in first. The rest of us waited. Laura and I desperately enjoyed a cigarette while Kris and Maggie ran across the street to fetch coffees
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