I was able to finagle some internet access, albeit shitty access, but as I always say…never look a gifthorse in the mouth…
On with the tale previously promised…
I spent a good portion of Sunday at the mall, spending some of the Christmas money I recieved. Mainly it was also a reason for me and my best friend to go hang out and shoot the shit. I didn’t buy much, just a couple of knit hats from Abercrombie and Bitch (the first and only time I will ever purchase anything from there, because god knows I can barely fit an asscheek in any of their homoerotic clothes for men)
I also bought some shirts from Finish Line, and at 5 shirts for $20, how in the hell could I ever pass that up? I mean come on…
While in Hot Topic, deciding whether or not I wanted to buy a Dropkick Murphy’s or Flogging Molly T-Shirt (I am coming back for the Dropkick Murphy’s shirt because a skeleton playing bagpipes is its own type of awesome) I ran into one of my old Cochises from my younger days, Tracy. We talked for a minute, and he asked me if I was going to Cyb@r Club that evening for the Wet T-Shirt contest.
Yes, I love tits, and by god, there were gonna be plenty there, especially since all us college kids are home for the holidays.
I asked Tracy if he knew what the prize money would be for the night, he replied, “$600”, and that is how I knew I was going. See, the more money they offer and advertise, the better the number and quality of the lovely contestants.
We went our seperate ways; me and Erick went to eat at Red Robin, and the nefarious plans began to hatch…
Since Erick wanted to get Rich Money, my evil and mentally inferior “twin”, I decided it would be better if we just met at the club, that way we wouldn’t have yet another war of words in the car, spoiling the night and my buzz.
I called my friend C, who lives across the street from me, and ran it down to him. He was all in, and we eventually hooked up, with his cousin Rich in tow (a different Rich, obviously).
Because Black people exist on a different time scale than say…reality, we got to the club just as the last judging for the Wet T contest was wrapping up. Luckily for my perverted nature, I got an eyeful, and I actually knew one of the contestants…
So…that’s what her tits looked like. Merry Christmas indeed.
Unfortunately the girl I knew only finished second, because the winner basically showed her snatch, and in a room full of drunken men (and women), nothing else will get you $600 faster.
As I moved and grooved around the club, I would be stopped by the occasional acquaintance, doing the ol’ stop and speak, all the while scoping around for lethal exes who could have the potential to piss on my night. Walking and talking, I felt someone grab my hand. I turned around to see J. Cheney, and…damn, she looked different. We gave each other the obligatory hug, and talked for a minute. This girl has the reddest hair I have ever seen, and when set against very, very blue eyes, it’s hard not to stare.
Anyhoo, we played a quick game of catch up, and it didn’t seem like she cared anymore about the events that took place in my apartment 4 years ago, when I discovered, in haste, that the curtains did indeed match the drapes…
She told me that the fiancee she was about to cheat on with me then is her now seperated husband, who’s since given her a couple of kids. Back then she had the ass of a black girl, now, she’s actually fairly thin, and better porportioned, I guess. We hugged again, and I moved on.
I caught up with Erick and Rich Money, which, of course didn’t take much time before we were at each other’s throats with various insults…
Soon enough the club was getting ready to close, as it normally does early on a Sunday. I left out of the club with C and Rich, waiting in the cold as they went on about their philanderous ways. Once we got in Rich’s Yukon, the idea to get with the girls in the red van next to us became a happening. C, who knew one of the girls who was apparently some gigantic freak/trisexual, was attempting to get her to hook up w/ us (her friends included). I had a looksee for myself and really wasn’t interested in a couple of dykes and a bloatus, but kept quiet because I figured it was all bullshit anyway.
We were supposed to meet them at this strip club, Showgirl 3, but when we got there, they’d already left. C got them on the phone, and the girl he knew said she had to go home to her girlfriend, in order not to catch hell. One of the other girls in the van spoke up and asked us what we were getting into. C took this as a sign and set it up to hook up with her instead.
It turned out that the girl lived in Southbridge, where both C and I lived, and what’s more, she lived practically next door to me, which I found humerous, because C was doing all this leg work for a girl who only lived with a stone’s throw of both of us. I mean me, I didn’t give a shit, but C lives across the street with his girlfriend and their 2 kids…how’s that strike your irony bone?
We wait in the parking lot for her to pass, and once we see the car she described, we followed her into what was basically my parking lot, and followed her up the stairs to her place.
I’ll give her this, the apartment was pretty damn nice, with a Christmas tree still full of unwrapped presents, to which she stated that she had been too busy to “have Christmas” yet. As she moved between the bedroom and living room, I could see the light in C and Rich’s eyes as they were certain that some shit was about to really go down. C went into the bedroom with the girl, leaving Rich and I in the living room, watching VH1 do something on Jenna Jameson, which I found magnificently ironic.
Soon, Rich got up off of the couch to see what C was doing. I didn’t care all that much, so I just sat on the couch. C came out and was like, “Man, the girl is trippin’ because she doesn’t want to do more than two dudes.”
Waitaminute…when did I consent to a gang bang? I just wanted free weed?
Well, the truth was that she figured that the three of us wanted to run a train on her, and frankly, I really wasn’t all that interested. Once it was confirmed that there was no weed, I gladly grabbed my coat and broke camp, wishing them well with a wink and a nod.
As soon as I left, and began to walk down the stairs laughing to myself. I realized it…
“Fuck, my phone is in Rich’s car.”
I couldn’t run back up the stairs because I figured by then, they had begun with the chick, so I just blew C’s phone up, because more than I wanted to participate in some half assed gangbang, I wanted my damn phone. Of course Cam wasn’t answering, so I just left that extremely important message and headed up the other stairs to my place.
I lounged on the bed, with my blinds open. just in case, he didn’t call back, I could catch them once I heard the Yukon start.
Sure enough, and much to my curious surprise 15 minutes later, the Yukon roared to life and began to pull off. I scurried to my phone and called C again. He answered and they came back.
Once I got my coat on and headed down stairs, they told me some of the funniest shit ever. I had to ask what happened, and C couldn’t wait to oblige. It seems that as soon as I left, they took her in the room, figuring she was happy only two were there and they would get their rocks off. As they undressed, the girl asked them, “Where’s the dividends?” Where’s the fucking dividends? Who asks that? I’ll tell you who…a hooker.
Apparently the girl was under the precept that the fellas would be paying her $200 for her “services”. Of course as soon as she confirmed that notion, they pulled their clothes on and got the hell out of dodge. This is something we were in the parking lot cackling and laughing about. She had to have heard us, because being in front of my place is basically still being in front of her’s. I looked up at the window, and although I can’t confirm it, I’m sure the way her blinds were, she was looking down at us looking up and laughing at her.
Seriously, who would be so stupid?
So we talked in the cold a couple of minutes more, then I took my frozen ass up the stairs and immediately got on the phone to regale the story to others.
I guess for this girl, being a paid whore wasn’t something she thought out too well. Ah…such is life.
So there’s my Sunday night, and in overall terms, I don’t think it get’s much more bizarre than that.
Until the next covert operation to get internet access….