small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: hammer time...can't touch this

Sunday, September 17

hammer time...can't touch this




So there was this one night when I decided to see how the other half of the gene pool lived. I threw on my best black and hit one of the more upscale drinking establishments our fair city has to offer. Wait a minute; maybe upscale is the wrong term. I just know that it was some place other then what Westport had to offer.

Anyway what a pretty joint, there was the nice muted lighting and the soft jazz in the background. Hell, they even had real glassware to drink out of. So I’m sitting there admiring the view and all that when I notice this women giving me the once over. She’s not bad looking, black business suit and five by five. I’m feeling overly motivated, so I throw out one of my tried and true lines.

“Cocktail”?

She accepts and I slide over and we start talking. Now unbeknownst to most of you, I can be smoother then baby oil on a stripper’s ass when I want to be. I’m like cheap four bit cologne to some women. They dig the smell but wouldn’t get caught dead rubbing their fingers in it. She was in town on business and was looking to kill time.

She asked me about the local music and I suggested a few spots to try out. You know, small talk, nothing heavy. All of a sudden this key clinked off the side of my glass. I picked it up and noticed it was a hotel key. I hollered at the bartender that someone must’a dropped their room key, when the women hissed at me to shut up. It turned out to be the key to her hotel room.

“Meet me there in a half hour”, she whispered in my ear as she slid off her bar stool. I suddenly got this severe twitching pain on the side of my face. I realized it was from me grinning like a snow cone eating retard. This was like one of those bad movies that you watch at three in the morning when nothing else is on.

The hero’s hanging in the bar doing a shot of Old One eye when the buxom babe slides up and grabs his gun and says; “are you always packed like that or are you looking to pick up a little trouble”? And as he feigns exhaustion from running his eyes up and down her frame he says, “trouble, so that’s how you spell it these days”? And she slips him her room key and tells him to give her fifteen minuets.

Well, that’s how it happened with me. I went over to her hotel and let myself into her room. I must’a spent twenty minuets arranging myself on the couch. I just found my best pose when the door burst open and she staggered into the room.

“Oh, there you are”, she said. Then her eyes glazed over and she hit the floor like a sack of charcoal. I must’a had the most fucked up look on my face. My chance for that Penthouse moment, my perverse moment in sexual history! And its lying passed out on the floor drooling into the carpet.

I was flabbergasted, I was dumbfounded, and I was pissed. I picked her up and took her into the bedroom, laid her on the bed so her dumbass wouldn’t fuckin choke to death. Then I took off her shoes and threw a sheet over her.

I let myself out and as I drove home I contemplated on my situation and my lot in life and watched all the couples in love strolling the streets. I let myself into my apartment and gave out a heartfelt sigh. “Greg, you’re a hell of a guy”. Then I proceeded to slam every goddamn door I could find through their muthafuckin hinges.


"and the monkey flipped the switch"

8 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Good writing. Great story.
MM

9:38 PM  
Anonymous MarieP said...

I undertand your pain. But it's great to know that there are still a few gentlemen out there. Bless you and your faithful stallion you rode in on. Oh what a knight.....
MarieP

10:00 PM  
Anonymous Alana said...

Like a snow cone eatin retard..............hilarious! I luv u for not humpin her anyway.

11:59 PM  
Blogger Ole Blue The Heretic said...

Damn, I would have had to walk around for a long time after something like that that and maybe take one or two cold showers.

At least you were noble about it.

I am also curious about were you found the picture that is on the post.

11:12 AM  
Blogger Death said...

The picture is of Milton Morris standing in front of his world famous bar, Milton’s which used to located here on Main street in Kansas City. The picture itself come from the original “Crazy little women of Kansas City” calendar circa early eighties. the woman featured used to be an old friend of mine

12:05 PM  
Blogger Ole Blue The Heretic said...

Thanks for the picture info, now I want to hunt for the calemdar!

10:34 AM  
Blogger PGP said...

Ha! that's a gutbuster!

Something not meant to be I guess....

6:44 PM  
Anonymous JW said...

Beautiful that she could have made a collossal mistake, and that you were the perfect gentleman. Rock on my brother. Karma doesn't forget.

12:16 AM  

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