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The Drunk At The Bar
2004-04-06 - 3:14 p.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

A lanky drunk stumbled up and struggled to get through a sentence as we sat in the high backed black vinyl U-shaped booths at the Scottish Inn, the plaid palace, the repository of failed dreams in wall to wall plaid carpeting.

"You--you gotta' beautiful woman onner' armmm." he slurred, staring at Audrey with widening eyes, probably trying to seduce her with a look that reminded one of a physician seeing something he'd never seen before during a pap smear, inducing embarassment and fear at the same time.  Audrey looked down and laughed, not used to the attention.

"I know I do."  I said brightly, glancing over at Audrey, her chin buried in her chest "Thank you."

"Y'n-y'know...not too...DISRESPECT you or ennythin'."  he mawkishly continued, unneccesarily.  (fuck my spelling these days!)

Which made me think of living in Denver, and getting used to the different mores that came with it.  Out there, and likely in much of the world, you can talk to and about a girl that's with a guy, and really expect no reprecussions towards it.  People are friendly, they hug more and seem genereally glad to see one another, even if it is a little fake.  In the midwest, in a small town bar, its all about archaic redneck customs and classic rock.

But I digress.

"No worries."  I said, looking him in the eye.  Not challenging or anything, but when you've got a geek like this fishing around for something, you have to be a prescence.

"Areyougonnna...(pause)...are you gonna' sing a song for her?"  the man said as he motioned blandly at the banal kareoke guy (who was wearing what looked to be a splash designed k-mart longsleeved 'Spider-Man' edition crewneck shirt).

"No,"  I said with a chuckle.

"You don't sing?"  he asked, trundling fatefully on.

"Not kareoke, no."  I replied.  Then an idea hit me, "Do YOU want to sing for her?"

His beady eyes narrowed as he thought quickly.  I had a sense that this was unexpected to him, but was on the far fringe of his wishes.

"No, no, no, no...well-" he stopped,"I could sing it for her FROM YOU." Here he paused again,"Because if I sang it for her...I wouldn't want to DISRESPECT you."  Another pause as he lurched about drunkenly swaying, providing a sense of motion, yet standing in the same plaid carpeted spot, "Besides, if I sang to her, it would be: "  and here he turned to the side and made a pumping motion with his arms and groin, while simulating the squeaking noise of the bedsprings 'EEE-ee-EEE-ee'.

I think he was trying to say that his song of seduction in the Plaid Palace at 9:30 on a Thursday night would be too much for Audrey, and she would not be able to control herself, unable to resist his suave charm, and rush off to bed with him.'

I stared at him blankly.  He wandered off to the kareoke guy and tried to find a song to sing for Audrey.

Audrey was laughing.  "That was creep-y." was all she said.

Meanwhile, I had images of this guy crooning off key renditions of 'I love this bar' to our table.  It was one of those things that made me laugh in an inner way, and so I thought of riding this one out, just to see where the strange missle would go.

His woman, short, squat, oversized through the hips, seriously fat ass,  was giving him shit in another booth down the row.  As she had staggered past, she looked at me lecherously. They both glanced at Audrey periodically.  It was clear they were talking about her.

"You know, I could pimp you out to them--for a menage' a trois."  I offered to Audrey.

She kept her composure.

"How much?"  she asked.

"Three hundred." 

She shook her head.

"Three hundred and HOUR.  FIVE HUNDRED for the night.  C'mon."

"I dont think I could do it."  she said.

"C'mon."

"No."

"How about her?  A menge a trois with her?  How about that?"  she retorted.

"I dont think I could get it up for her.  You'd have to make it hard for her, and then...it might not even work."

Seriously fat ass.  The physics of it all was daunting, especially trying to take her from behind.  Somehow it always works, but...

The drunk staggered up.

"Do you know french?"  he asked.

"No."  I said.

"How about spanish?"

"Sure," I said, beginning to tire of the game. 

He said something lecherous in spanish, but didnt hit on the key dirty words I know.  I laughed, hoping he would be satisfied and walk away.

He didnt.

"Do you know what I said?"  he asked.

"No."  I said. "What did you say?"

He looked away and demured.

"I dont wanna' DISRESPECT you," he said, "Besides, if I told you she might..."  and he looked at Aud lecherously, again making a quick motion with his hips.  Maybe he thought the motion itself was seductive.  At this point, I dont really know.  He was annoying and starting to be rude. Time to end the game and make him go away.

I used a technique one of my criminal friends showed me a long time ago.  While eye contact can be scary, deliberate avoidance of eye contact without wandering the eyes is also a signal that some bad voodoo is going down.  Most people understand it on an animal level, and it pretty only much works if there is some seed of doubt or fear already in the recipient's mind.

I stopped looking the drunk in the eyes, and instead hardened mine, giving him a side view, saying nothing. 

He melted away saying again something about disrespect.  I waved at him with the back of my hand, saying nothing.

We chatted for a minute, then got up to leave.  The waitress was chewing the drunk out for something, maybe it related to us, maybe it didnt.  I didnt care.  I think my point was made, but then, who knows.

Later on, back at Audrey's house, as we lay on the couch,  I pulled her pajama bottoms and panties down to her knees, sliding my cock inside of her from behind.

"Do you like fooling around with me, baby?"  I asked in a hushed voice in her ear.

"Yes," she said in a breathy whisper a sly smile on her face.

"Do you like the way my cock feels, pushing up inside of you?"  I asked, whispering madly into her ear, my hips grinding into hers.

"Yes,"  she said in a breathy whisper, same sly smile on her face.

And neither of us thought of the drunk at the bar.

 


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