16
Apr
11

DK’s NYC Taxi Cab Chronicles (No Comment).

In an average shift I’ll have anywhere from 1-3 passengers that want to elicit conversation with me.  Lately, I’ve been more hesitant ever since that damn Spanish fag all but tried to molest me.  Nevertheless we usually talk about current events, my car, my job, sports or whatever else.  But this was well…different.

I drop someone off at the epicenter of Rainbow Alley (which is Christopher and Bleeker streets) and some kid wearin a pink polo shirt with the collar popped sees my cab and runs towards it.  It was a Saturday night so you know cabs are at a premium.  He hops in with a couple of female friends and we’re heading towards the infamous MPD which is not a long cab ride at all.  I have a cab sign that mentions Rosie O’Donnell, and that sparks up a game of “would you rather.”

Him: Would you rather…bang Rosie O’Donnell or Whoopi Goldberg?
Me: What the fuck?  Uhhhh…Whoopi Goldberg I guess.  She got dreadlocks to pull on at least.
Him: Okay, okay…how about…Rosie O’Donnell…or the dead body of Megan Fox?
Me: ……………………………………
Me:  Megan Fox’s dead body?
Him: Rosie O’Donnell…or Megan Fox with one arm bleeding to death as you’re fucking her?
Me: Where in God’s name do you think of this stuff???  The latter, I guess.
Him: Rosie O’Donnell doggystyle and in the dark…or Megan Fox after 5 pornstars ran train on her with no condom on…and she’s dead?
DK’s Brain: What the fuck is this dude’s fetish with a dead Megan Fox?
Me: If the chick is dead, would any possible STD’s be dead along with it?
Him: I never thought of that, good question though.
(I didn’t answer this question and we’re a couple of blocks away from the spot)
Him: Alright, final question.  No one would know about this.  Not even a soul.  You fucking Brad Pitt…or getting fucked by a male sheep?
Me:  NEITHER.
Him: That’s not a choice.  Remember, nobody would ever find out.
DK’s Brain: But gettin out right now is.  And are you kidding?  If I answered you’d brag to people about a cab driver answering such a disgusting question.
Me: NO COMMENT.  We’re here, by the way.
Him: Ahh damn.

Drugs are bad.  And so on.

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