Down Sucker Street

"126 Poker Street. Before 8.30 please."

Suppose you get this call early one morning, while you are still in the fogs, from a sweet talking lady who thinks you’re a cabbie, what would you do?

Remember, she's certain you’re a cabbie because she got your number from a 'reliable source' whose name she keeps repeating. Man! This is one insistent lady who won't give you time of day.

But she's got this delicious voice that won't let you cut the call. You don't want to hurt her, oh no, you wouldn't dare. So what if you don't have the foggiest idea who she is... you've got an address and she's still on line.

"Do you have prior commitments... but he told me you would accommodate me, you sound like a nice guy."

You were about to protest and tell her you’re not a cabbie, but she just said that she thought you were a damn nice guy. ‘Oh yessssss.’

"I'll be expecting you." Cut.

You’re still in the fogs. But you repeat the address to yourself, thinking all the while that it’s too good to be true.

"126 Poker Street... 126 Poker Street..."

Sleep is catching on now in all fury, you've had a particularly rowdy night and then there's office to go to... the earlier the better… Urgh!

"126 Potter Street... 126 Potter Street..."

Damn office for now. You want to relive the luscious voice... imagine delicious situations for a while longer. Ummm.

"136 Hotter Street..."

The last thing you remember is the address, you smile thinking of all the possibilities... Ummm...

"136 Soccer Street..."