Pluto Does Something Stupid, And Has An Adventure

First, the stupid thing: I picked up a hitchhiker.

I don’t do this very often but I have done so on occasion. In this case it seemed safe enough – it was during the day (late morning), right in town, not obviously a serial killer or anything. The second half of the stupid thing is that she (the hitchhiker) was female. NOT, I must emphasize, a young girl or a hooker or anything like that. Just an average sort of lady, maybe thirty or so, who looked like she could use a break. She wasn’t dressed provocatively; jeans and a polo shirt. (And a black bra, it turns out, but I’m getting ahead of myself.) I was honestly only trying to help.

Now the adventure:

She gets in the car and starts talking about ninety miles an hour. I don’t think she was on anything, just naturally hyper. In fact I’m pretty sure she wasn’t on anything because you don’t usually take drugs as you are being processed out of jail and SHE HAD JUST GOTTEN OUT OF JAIL! These were about the first words out of her mouth: “Hi, I’m Kim! I just spent four days in jail!” At his point I made a little note to myself: “When considering whether to pick up a hitchhiker, look to see if there is a jail across the street.” It hadn’t registered that I was driving past the “Regional Justice Center”, a local facility that includes some courtrooms, offices and, yes, a jail. Anyway, I ask where she’s headed and she’s heading for a suburb of Seattle about twenty miles up the road. I’m going about five miles up that road – is that okay. Sure it is. Any place that’s closer would be a help.

Now the next three things happened in rapid succession. I’m not sure I’ve got them in the right order because, as you will see, I was a little flustered by them.

  1. She asks “Do you have a place around here?” I thought she was just making chitchat. (Wrong!) I answer, truthfully, “No, I live up the hill.”

  2. She asks “Are you in a hurry?” Still oblivious, I tell her, again truthfully, that I was going in to work on a Saturday and I was in no hurry. Then she said something about “doin’ sumpthin’”. I tell her, no, I’d better get to work but I’m thinking “That doesn’t sound right. DOIN’ SUMPTHIN’???!!! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  3. She says “Four days in jail! I think my boobs got bigger!” I’m thinking she’s a very, um, forthright talker. You know, one of those people who just say whatever pops into their head without thinking. But then she says “See!”, and pulls up her shirt! Now I’m thinking she’s not only a very open talker but she’s got an odd sense of humor. Ha-ha, very funny! But then, apparently thinking I can’t tell how much bigger her boobs are just by looking at her bra (black, as noted above), SHE TAKES THEM OUT!

Okay. I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even I’ve figured it out by now. I won’t share my innermost thoughts at this point with you, but you can use your imagination. I’m stunned!

(Let me interject something. Let’s leave Kim holding her boobs for just a second, shall we? I’m a happily married man with no inclination or intention of cheating on my wife. Even if I weren’t married, I’m a religious person and I believe in chastity. Even if I weren’t religious, I think casual sex with strangers is a bad idea. So my goal at this point is not to follow through with her offer but to 1) get her to put her boobs away, and 2) drop her off somewhere, anywhere, very soon.)

Notwithstanding my noble goals, I’m not impervious to someone giving me a private show. So I’m kind of choking and gasping but I manage to splutter “Don’t do that!” She says okay, puts everything back in order and tells me again that she just got out of jail and that she only has a dollar. Do I have five dollars? or three dollars? I tell her (this time untruthfully) that I don’t have any cash. I don’t think I want her any more grateful than she is already.

In the meantime I’m trying to figure out just what is going on here. I’m confident that she’s not smitten by my good looks and charm. Somehow I think she would have done the same thing no matter who had picked her up. But why is she acting like this? She said she’s been in jail – is she just horny from being locked up? But it was only four days! Is she some kind of sex addicted nymphomaniac who just propositions every guy she sees? Surprisingly (or maybe not, I’m capable of significant naivete) it doesn’t occur to me till much later, after I’d dropped her off, that she was trying to raise some money. Even after she started talking about how broke she was. Sure, it’s obvious now but I was not expecting this and was seriously flustered.

Apparently I was thinking pretty hard because she has to interrupt my reverie to inform me that I’m about to run a red light! I stop for the light and she kinda giggles. “I made you nervous, didn’t I?” Truthful once again, I answer yes.

Trying to change the subject I ask why she was in jail. (Soliciting, perhaps?) She says she was jailed for fraud, for cashing a check that “belonged to someone else”. It was all a misunderstanding, of course.

She has figured it out by now that I’m not going to take her up on her offer. She says “You’re married, aren’t you?” “Yes I am,” I tell her, gratefully. I think that was her way of letting me off the hook.

By this time I’m just about at my destination. I ask her where she wants to be dropped off. Over at this gas station will be fine. Once again she reminds me she only has a dollar. Do I have fifty cents? Thirty-five cents? I do have some change and a I give it to her. I drop her off and drive away.

As I’m driving the remaining block or so to work I calm down a little and it finally occurs to me that the offer of sex was probably connected to money. She was never explicit about it but she wouldn’t be, would she? She may not have been jailed for soliciting but I’d guess she has probably been arrested for it a time or two. “Do you have a place around here?” “Are you in a hurry?” “I’ve only got a dollar.” Duh!

In a way it was a relief to figure that out. For a little while there I was convinced that I was somehow living in an X-rated movie. Oh, and that part at the start about not picking up a hooker? I was wrong.

Coming Next: Pluto tells Mrs. Pluto about it and ends up in the hospital!

I haven’t told her yet. Remember, the adventure started with me doing something stupid. I’ll tell her, but I’m going to wait until 1) a little time has passed and 2) she’s in a very good mood.

Not one word.

Not one, single, solitary word.

Pull the other one, pluto, it’s got bells on.


hmmm, how would I react to such a story - aghast that he’d pick up a hitchhiker, relief that he was OK, then I’d probably laugh about him being worried about me… but I’m bizarre that way.

Great story!

Was you radio playing a song that went

BOOM chica-bow-wow?

Then you were in a pron film and you totally blew it.
What I want to know is how she thought you would be able to judge the growth of her boobs if you hadn’t seen them befor she went to jail.

Obviously you had seen the boobies befor or she wouldn’t have asked you.

There! I’ve run rings around with logic. Confess.

Shouldn’t this post start with the words:

“I am a sophomore at a small Midwestern college…I had always dreamed, but I never thought it would happen to me…”

Tell the Mrs., if she has any sense of humor, she’ll probably get a kick out of it.

Ya know, something like this happened to me once.

No, I won’t tell you all about it. :wink:

Act II Scene III
Clueless Guy drives by and picks up Bambi. She offers sex for money; clueless guy gives away his toll money and drives straight to church to confess his impure thoughts.

Act II Scene VII
Mrs. Clueless Guy beats Clueless guy within an inch of his life upon finding boob-prints on the dashboard of the Family Truckster.

Pluto, you dog! If Mrs. Pluto doesn’t have a problem with you helping out random damsels in distress, then I would tell her. Or even if you just don’t like to keep secrets. It made a good story, good thing she wasn’t just a desperate homicidal escapee.

I have a good hitchhiker story that involves black spandex, seven and seven, an Elvis impersonator, wife swapping, skinny dipping and a trip to the ER. But this is perhaps best left for another time…

For what it’s worth, yesterday evening I told Mrs. Pluto all about my adventure. As predicted, she saw very little humor in it. Unless she expresses humor with a steely-eyed glare and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.\

If anyone needs me I’ll be sleeping on the couch.