Haiku-like verse & story fragments based on random word combinations found in Spam email. |
"No! Close! Leave!" her words a sharp staccato, I closed the restroom door. "Sorry," I said as I walked away. I'd seen her type before. A young, naive Ukranian girl smuggled into the good old USA by the Russian Mafia. Lured with the promise of becoming a rich man's mail-order bride, only to be deceived and sold into the harsh realities of pornography and prostitution. The more jaded, cynical ones actually knew the con for what it was, before they accepted proposal and the plane ticket. They welcomed the opportunity to use their womanly charms for higher financial gains than they could hope for in the Baltic States. I knew a few girls like that, one was my "special friend" down at the local rub and tug. But this girl, hiding in the bathroom of this underground club, she was different. She was scared, she didn't belong in this game, and it looked like the John she'd just been pimped out to had roughed her up, a lot. It was a bad idea, but I knew right then I had to save her from this life. I knocked softly on the restroom door. "Are you OK in there?" I asked, realizing it was a stupid thing to say as soon as the words left my lips. "No! Leave alone..." she said, her voice trailing off into sobs. I opened the door. "Let me help," I said, reaching for her hand. "No! Leave me!" she said, tears streaming down her bruised face. I put my arm around her. "Come on, we're getting out of here," I said, as I walked her towards the door. "Hey! Were you think you're takin' her!" A rough looking Caucasian guy with a shaved head said as he grabbed my shoulder. I spun around, kneed him in the groin, and punched the side of his head, hard. He hit the floor like a ton of bricks. "Come on honey, let's go!" I said as I grabbed the girl's hand. We ran for the door... |