Hot Dogs and Heroin

A conversation overheard between two hot dog stand girls on the corner of Church and Main Street in downtown Buffalo, New York:

TRIXIE: Shit, I forgot to bring you a cigarette. Where’s the bike messenger guy?

ERIN: He’s gone.

TRIXIE: Are you having sex with him?

ERIN: Not yet.

TRIXIE: Are you going to have sex with him?

ERIN: I don’t know.

TRIXIE: If you’re not, I will.

ERIN: I don’t think he’s like that.

TRIXIE: Yeah, right. What guy isn’t like that?

ERIN: He seems different.

TRIXIE: He’s got a penis, right?

ERIN: I assume.

TRIXIE: They all think with their dicks. He’s not any different.

ERIN: He might be.

TRIXIE: What are you on heroin?

ERIN: Actually, yes.

TRIXIE: You know what I mean.

ERIN: I’m serious. He doesn’t seem like other guys.

TRIXIE: Maybe he’s gay. (Pause) Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

ERIN: That’s not it.

TRIXIE: And you don’t think he wants to fuck you?

ERIN: No. And yes.

TRIXIE: What?

ERIN: I think he does. Just not in a mean or dirty way.

TRIXIE: There is no other way.

ERIN: Maybe there is.

TRIXIE: Whatever!