A wanted man

Walking down a crowded street, you feel them all around you. Their eyes are watching your every move as you near them. Their hands reach out for a moment of closeness. Their mouths glisten with the saliva of their tongues. The energy is palpable. Electric. Time elapses, and before you know it, you've made contact.

You feel as if you're the most wanted man in the city. A sexual current runs though your body. If you extend your hand, a charge shoots from your fingertips. Everyone wants you and like it. It's a rush.

Then, they open their mouths.

"Would you like to...? Have you heard about...? Did you hear that...?" Are you fucking kidding me? Come on.

Turns out, they don't want me. They want my time, money, and patience for their services.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new whore. True, there may not be any sex involved, but in the end, you'll get screwed over, one way or another.

Personally, I have no problem with these individuals (contrary to what I have already written). These people are out there, promoting a certain product, service, or whatever, for us plebians to buy, know, or think about. They get off their ass every day, work from 9-5, hover around in inclement weather conditions, carry an idiotic clipboard/binder, wear uncomfortable clothes, and (always) stand in a pair of fugly shoes.

God bless 'em.

And, to answer your questions, I gave some last week, I have two at home which I don't use, and your brand of over-the-counter medication is clearing up the the rash, nicely. Thank you for asking.