A Visit to a Strip Club
Rolling down the highway on yet another drunken, dope-fueled blitzkrieg
road trip, my buddy made an unexpected course change. That wasn't surprising,
as I seem to gravitate toward people who make such decisions; in any case, the
home-made laudanum I had just taken a swig of cured me of any impulses to
question just about anything. Although it tasted very much like liquid ass, the
effects it rendered upon me were laudable to say the least. Feeling good is
good enough.
After enjoying a spell of particularly intense narcotic rapture, I snapped
out of it momentarily and asked where the fuck we were going. "Droolie’s”,
said my kamikaze pilot/brethren. Oh, OK, as I semi-consciously girded for what
was about to transpire. “Droolie’s” is a strip club, but I changed the name to
protect the guilty. I've never been a big strip club goer, and most of the ones
I've been to were when I was with a friend or friends. I had forgotten my buddy
mentioning something about doing a drive-by there on the way back.
I've been in strip clubs that ranged from swank to sleazy, with chicks that
ranged from playmate/supermodel/porn star material to skanky,
rode-hard-and-put-up-wet scrapas with mouths resembling something the
Flintstones lived in, replete with bad and missing teeth and tongues that
looked like they were in jail when they smiled at you. This club was somewhere
in the middle.
Upon entry, my buddy and I made a beeline for the stage, and after sitting
down, a cute blond chick started to jiggle her goods in front of me. Apparently
I didn't break out the bucks fast enough for her, because she suddenly started
screaming for the bouncers and pointing down at me. Two broad-beamed
goombah-looking dudes immediately approached, but instead of trying to bounce
me out, they very politely explained that decorating the strippers with folded,
spindled, legal tender was mandatory when sitting ringside, or should I say,
G-stringside. OK, whatever dude. I grudgingly gave her a dollar, which she
grudgingly accepted.
The next one was a smoking-hot brunette that got a fiver from me, partially
because she was so incredibly hot, and partially to spite the blond chick. As
it was around Halloween, she was dressed up like a cop; the hottest fucking cop
on the fucking planet…RoboStripperCop. As I looked up at the marvelous scenery,
she looked down at me and said, “So, are you going to behave yourself tonight,
or will I have to haul you in.” I replied, “All of the ABOVE.” She got a
delighted look on her pretty face and said, “Ohhhh, I’ll catch you later then.
I get off at two.” Holy shit, I came to the right place!!!
We had a few more beers and decorated with hard-earned dollars a couple
more chicks whose boobs were as fake as their names. As I looked around the
club, I saw it was full of shady, gangster-looking characters with serious, conspiratorial
expressions on their faces and blue-collar dudes chilling out or saying they
are going to take a fuckin’ pipe wrench to somebody.
I was plotting the logistics of my stripper tryst; I had a thick wad of
cash adjacent to something else getting thicker, so I was prepared for anything
if she was a hooker or not. However, my asshole friend reminded me that we
needed to split. No, no, no, no, no!!!! Your buddies are supposed to HELP to
get laid!!! Sadly, he was right, we had to get going. Fuck!!!! I said farewell
to Ms. RoboStripperCop, who kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear in a
sultry voice to come back when I wasn’t so rushed.
