“Jeez, people are pigs!” Sam said from behind me.
“You can say that again,” I replied, looking at a dirty diaper that was stuck in a bush. “Christ, I’m glad I’m wearing gloves!”
Gingerly pulling the diaper from between the branches, I dropped it in one of the two large green trash bags I was dragging along with me. The first was for cans and bottles, the second for any other garbage I found.
“What was it?” Sam asked. “Was it grosser than the nasty sandwich I found that almost made me puke?”
“It was a diaper.” Turning to her, I grinned. “With nasty clumps of shit, so I think I’m ahead in the gross competition.”
Sam straightened up from the bush she was behind and shrugged. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but only because we’re not done yet and I have a feeling I’ll find worse.”
“We’ll see.” I pointed. “Remember, winner pays for the next horror movie we check out.”
“Then save your money. There’s a new crappy-looking zombie thing out next week.” Sam laughed. “And this time I want a large popcorn, no cheaping out, Justin.”
“If that’s the case, I won’t go easy on you. I want a slushy and a box of duds.”
“You’re dating a dud, why would you want a box of them?” Sam grinned, waiting for me to take the bait.
Unable to help it, I said, “At least I’m dating someone. When was your last date?”
“I’d rather be alone than with a bitch,” she replied, removing her Red Sox cap and wiping the sweat from her forehead.
“Jen’s not a bitch. Why do you always call her that?”
“Because she is. Maybe you’d see it of you’d stop thinking about her tits.”
“What can I say?” I laughed. “She has nice tits.”
“I know. In fact, everyone knows. It’s not like she doesn’t flaunt them.”
“If you had them, you’d flaunt them.” I smirked, knowing it was a touchy subject.
“I have tits!” Sam snapped, biting on my joke. “I just don’t strut around showing them off.”
“I know,” I said, pointing to the pink Red Sox T-shirt she was wearing. “Is that your brother’s? It looks too big.”
“I dress comfortable, okay?” She walked around the bush, dragging her trash bag behind her along with the backpack she’d brought. “I don’t need to show what I have.” She gave her head a toss, sending her long brown braid whipping around. “If a guy wants to go out with me, I want it to be because he likes me, not because he likes my ass.”
“You have an ass in those jeans? I could have sworn you left it at home.”
Sam looked at the back of the baggy black jeans she was wearing.
I laughed. “What are you doing, looking for it?”
“Why are you being a dick to me today?” she asked, her dark brown eyes flashing. “I’m spending my Saturday helping you score brownie points for that little snot, and you’re making fun of me!”
“Whoa!” I put my hands up defensively. “Hey, Sam, I’m only busting your chops. Since when did you get so sensitive?”
“I am not defensive.” She stopped in front of me and dropped the bag “But I get a little tired of the jokes sometimes, and not just from you.” She sighed. “At least you don’t call me a dyke.”
“I’d never say that,” I told her, coming around the bush. “Who said that about you?”