Open letter to all crackheads who may wish to pay me a compliment while I'm in the grocery store
If the crack that you recently smoked is seeping out of your widened, red, wet eyes so that I can spot you from across the room and know instantly that you're a crackhead who's about to say something to me, even if it's as lovely as, "You got a name to go with that pretty face?" do not be surprised if I laugh, embarrassed, and say, "Ha, no!" because I am merely standing there debating giving you my real name. And while I am 80 percent set on telling you I am Jo Ann, I keep quiet while you tell me, rather awkwardly, that your name is [name withheld to protect the drug addled] and that you "hope we can meet again at some other more opportune time." Which, when you're a crackhead, probably means in the parking lot while I'm fumbling for my keys (thankfully that did not happen).