blast from the past......for Tony

Every man has a vision of his perfect women, the one that when he’s all cozy and warm she wiggles into his dreams. She might be short or tall, chunky or thin, it doesn’t matter, in his head she’s perfect, and only he knows why.

Back in the day I knew this cat that played in a metal band. He always had the groupies trying to run him down, so as a result he had his pick of any women he wanted. But he had a secret, he loved the big chicks. He dreamed about the big chicks.

If a woman had an ass so big she could scratch it by reaching over her shoulder, he turned into a drooling freak

I out’ed him out one night when I dropped into this small bar to see some old friends. I walked in and there was Mr. Heavy Metal smacking uglies with this eight ball chick. I know, what’s an eight ball chick? Well, I’ll tell ya. In the metal bars you had women who insisted on wearing black spandex all the time. No big deal, except that these girls were big, so big and round that the spandex never fit right and they always had this big strip of pale white tummy showing. So from a distance they looked like big ole eight balls, get it?

He ended up swearing me to silence. I tried to tell the boy he didn’t need to worry, hell it was his gig not mine. But it was funny hearing him talk about it. It’s like owning a Harley he’d say, but you love riding Mopeds cause they’re too shittin fun. You just don’t want anybody to know about it. What the fuck ever.

Well, I got to meet my wet dream. I was working the bar and watching the crowd one night when thru the door walked the dream. All I could do was suck in a deep breath and stare, damn she was beautiful. She stood just shy of six feet with these huge green eyes, jet black hair that fell to her hips and had to be the most buffed out women I had every seen. And sitting on top of all that was a legitimate set of 44 DD’s. The whole package was wrapped in a black cat suit and a pair of come fuck me at midnight stiletto heels.

As she sauntered into the bar I could see that she was looking for someone, lucky bastard. She walked those green eyes past me then stopped. Shit! Was she staring at me? As she walked my way I looked around to see who she was grinning at. Suddenly she’s standing in front of me so close those 44’s are pushing me into the wall. She wants to know if I’m the one called Death. All I can do is nod cause I still hadn’t started breathing yet. Her next words fucked me up me.

I’m new in town and I’m told you’re the man to hang out with

By now I’m looking around to see who’s laughing, cause I just knew this had to be someone’s idea of a joke. I was to find out soon enough that she was the real deal.

We soon became very close friends. She was a stripper that danced on the pro circuit. You know, she’d be the featured flavor of the week at your local nudie bar. I’ve always found strippers cool to hang with. In my profession as a bouncer it worked to my advantage to know that the woman I was hanging with could handle themselves in a rush and not fold up on me, plus it never hurt having a angry titted she-beast by my side.

On the down side strippers always reminded me of my cat in that the attention span is sparse and they always had the worst timing for wanting attention. But God loved em and so did I. There used to be this great restaurant on Broadway called Mierhoff’s. It was custom made for bar people, it didn’t have the greatest food in the world, but they served it hot, a lot, and cheap. It was a good place to vanish on a weekday afternoon for a few hours and me and the 44DD chick used to go there for a late lunch on occasion.

One day we’re sitting at my favorite table having lunch and conversation when the bullshit started. Our table was in this little cul-de-sac that opened into the main section of the restaurant facing the bar. Sitting at the bar was this bunch of suits entertaining themselves by being assholes. When we walked in they threw out a few comments but the sun was shining and I didn’t want to ruin the mood so they got ignored. But every time I looked up there they were, staring like a herd of amped up hyenas. The 44DD chick could tell I was getting hot under the collar and she decided to defuse the situation.

Baby, she said, let me get this one, just hang close.

What she did next made me love her forever. Check this out.
She was wearing a western style shirt that snapped down the front with the first few snaps undone. She walked up to the bar and stared at the suits. I stood by the door watching, I kind’a had an idea about what she was going to do. When she was sure that she had everybody’s attention, she pointed to me and said; see that guy, well he’s the one that gets to knock the bottom out of this.

Then the 44DD Chick took in a deep lungful of air. As a result that ample chest expanded and the poor shirt gave up the ghost and popped every snap that was trying to contain that wonderful rack. It was fucking poetry in motion, hell it was like a goddamn John Woo movie where everything seemed to move in super slow motion.

As the snaps popped, those beautiful 44DD’s broke loose from the constricting cloth and hurled themselves forth for all to see. Drink glasses fell from numb fingers and time seemed to move slower. I could hear a muted cry of anguish coming from the suits as the ugly truth smacked them hard in the ass.

None of that ass will they ever get. I even thought that out of the corner of my eyes I saw white doves fly past the door, but that might have been my imagination. Time then sped up. My girl was walking toward me grinning from ear to ear and the evil suits had been done in. Did I mention how much I dug strippers?



"and the monkey flipped the switch"