Good Morning Pile Drivers,
For those two or three of you actually reading this bar slut, you probably know maggots is my new place where everybody knows my name. Blondie’s has died for now, so Maggot’s is a euphemism for ‘The Magnet Inn.’ It’s a friendly place no doubt much like the bar you call home with only occasional outbursts associated with over-pouring.
I hold court with my fellow curmudgeons and in a relatively short time have re-created ‘Curmudgeon Corner’. Of course, this usually takes place during the 3-hour span of ‘happy hour.’ As bars go one honestly couldn’t call it a pickup bar but precedence for it has been established. It tarnished the image of parking lot lust but I must insist we save it for another time.
In the scheme of things these days, when I feel the need to inject seed I go about my day with antenna up prospecting for those rare opportunities to paste a smile on my face. Most times it never materializes. But as most of you loners know it always seems to happen when you least expect it minding your own business. Such was the case last Friday.
At 1:30 in the afternoon I was sitting in curmudgeon corner sipping a cold one and playing the Jukebox. I took the day off and with little else to do, I thought I’d get an early start on Friday night and secure prime real estate at the bar. Sarah walked in and sat next to me. This has happened before, but only because it was the only seat available. She had the entire bar to choose from but to my enormous surprise she saddled up next to me.
She ordered the infamous white wine. We refer to it as ‘white death’ and there’s a pool going for anyone that can determine its origin. Sarah was content to sip her secret sauce and watch me play the remainder of my credits without saying a word.
After returning to my seat she broke the silence and exclaimed, “Wow what a great song!” I knew immediately she had no idea what she was talking about as my songs had yet to play. That said, it started the ball rolling and actually began a conversation.
Sarah is a tall striking woman I guessed to be in her early to mid-fifties wearing a snug fitting blouse with tight jeans that displayed a body still capable of defying gravity. Her short cropped hair accentuated her petite features and flashed perfect teeth when she laughed. I was smitten and was committed to seeing it through regardless of cost. Tonight was indeed going to the night!
As the afternoon wore on to dark I noticed we’d occupied our stools nearly four hours and was quite sure I was crapulous. The bar was filled to capacity and the jukebox was playing all our favorite music filling Sarah with unrestrained joy!
In spite of her drunken slurs it was apparent she could sing and innocently mentioned she had a good voice. This casual complement was a catalyst of some sort as she immediately felt comfortable enough to sing each tune as they came up. Mind you not singing in soft melodic impressions as one might expect, rather she felt it necessary to belt out the song so it could drown out the jukebox and override the din of a crowded bar! Oh my God! It was very uncomfortable to be sitting next to her as she decided to begin pole dancing with an imaginary pole. She literally had the entire bar’s attention!
I continued my introductions by having her meet the Bagwan. She immediately asked me what a Bagwan was. I explained he is considered a holy man in many cultures. Inexplicably this triggered some kind of need to show him special attention which of course was ill advised. Sarah began to prance and dance her way to the end of the bar gyrating a would-be lap dance while screaming Elton John’s Rocket Man.
It was painful to watch, but most everyone there knew what was coming and we all like to watch a train wreck. To the Bagwan’s credit, he politely asked her to stop. Sarah’s loud obnoxious voice actually got louder in an attempt to compensate for his reluctance to engage her. In her futile effort to gain the Bagwan’s approval she moved just inches away still soulfully and seductively luring the wise man for all to see.
Our holy man couldn’t take it any longer and had to end it and end it now! “GET THE F— AWAY FROM ME YOU WHORE!” with eyes and veins bulging yelling louder than she was to convey the message. It was not lost on her as she returned to her stool in total rejection. Choking back tears and with her chin quivering she sobbed, “He’s not very nice is he?” I tried to warn her but sometimes it’s easier just to let nature take its course.
By now most of the curmudgeons had gone home leaving only Elvis and a drunk with his head in his arms lying on the bar who’d previously been monitoring this mess. I took Sarah outside so she could smoke but without warning it turned into a dry humping session with tongues shoved down our respective throats! It was time to seal the deal, and in a lust filled craving we made our way to her Lexus.
There was no turning back. Just as I got in on the driver’s side when my phone sounded an incoming text message. Instinctively I reached for my phone to see an urgent message from Elvis: “Zuki I know this woman…she’s CRAZY!! I swear to God if you try to leave I’ll tackle your ass to the ground! Needless to say I had a dilemma.
Sarah was rubbing me and tonguing my ear making things difficult! As if directed by an unseen devil, Sarah began to sing “Find somebody to Love” by Queen; finally snapping me back to reality. I jumped out of the car, wished her well, and ran back into the bar to hide in the men’s room.
I don’t know why these things happen to me but eventually, you’d think the odds would be in my favor and meet a sane person at the bar. Pray for me.