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2006-03-26 - 1:05 p.m. I left my house at 8:24pm with the purpose of getting some ice cream. As I get close to the ice cream place, I keep on driving. Find a road I've never taken before, and follow it for fifty miles before I see the sign "Colfax Ave. Exit - 1 mile" Whenever I think of the term streetwalker, Colfax is the street. Tell somebody at my high school that you saw their mom on Colfax last night, and you know they'll get it. I see the exit sign and suddenly my night has a new purpose. I still want ice cream, but now, more importantly, I want to find a streetwalker. A prostitute. A hooker. A whore. The first girl I meet, seventeen years old, by the name of Jenny, is waiting for her laundry to be done. She dropped out of high school when she was fourteen, and lives here with her baby's daddy. She gets her food at that dollar store across the street, and does her laundry here, because there's no place in a one-bedroom apartment for a washing machine. The second girl I meet, sixteen years old, by the name of Hannah, is your stereotypical normal high school girl. She has homework to do for english class, and a locker next to a boy she thinks is cute. She just got her drivers license, and is saving up to get a car. Her parents will pay for half of it, but told her she has to get a job to pay for the other half. This is why she started sleeping with men for money. I follow Colfax from it's beginnings in the slums of Aurora down to where it splits off with 16th street. 16th is its own mall, and on a friday night there's no shortage of people. Eventually I get bored of watching drunk girls holding onto drunk guys for balance, and take random turns, following this street for a mile, then turning off for five blocks. I wind my way through a network of streets until I find a Dairy Queen. The sign on the door says that fridays and saturdays they are open until 10:30 at night. I check my clock, 10:21. The only girl who is working has hair in a ponytail that dangles down to her waist. I tell her I want a regular oreo shake thing. She smiles and says "Anything else?" 'Yeah,' I reply, 'do you know which direction is north?' Unfortunately, she doesn't. Oh. Well then could you tell me what city I'm in at least?

[ Who - Whom - Old - Host ] the writing in this one sucks