on the corner

it has always been my fear, when standing on a street corner, that passers-by will think that I am a hooker. I mean, I don't dress like a hooker, I don't even wear blush or tease my hair! Well, this Sunday, that fear was realized, when on my way back from church (of all places) I was waiting on a corner for a light to change and a truck full of yokels sped past, the passenger leaned out the window and yelled, "how much?"
I still had the program from church in my hand, the cross from Our Lady of the Rosary clearly visable. I was wearing black slacks and a grey sweater. Nothing about me said hooker.
The first thing that came to mind was what kind of hellfire God had in store for a dumbass like that guy. Who looks for hookers at noon on a Sunday? My faith in humanity is slowly, but surely deteriorating.