“Hang on, hang on… What did you say her name was, again?”
“Anita Dix.”
Laughter erupted around the table, proving yet again that, regardless of age, men will always find dick jokes hilarious.
It was a small bar on the inside, although the seating spilled out into the streets. Gorgeous staff and friendly service made sure business was always thriving. This had cemented its status as one of our favourite watering holes, probably much to the chagrin of the baristas.
I had taken up residence outside, around our favourite table. The empty glasses were piling up in the centre, gradually becoming something of a hazard. Across from me, past the graveyard of pint glasses, sat the two men with whom I shared friendship, living arrangements, and just enough homoerotic humour to be uncomfortable most of the time.
To my left, chuckling maniacally, was Lexington Bonce-Debule. Ridiculous name, I know, he owed it to some seriously mixed European ancestry. My personal suspicions were that someone, somewhere along the line, had bumped uglies with a French duke. At some point in prior years, it had also become acceptable practice to use his surname as an expletive.
Lex was a talented (and aggressively bearded) musician, although a touch on the eccentric side. I’d seen his compositions bring tears to the eyes of grown men and, once, some particularly masculine women. He lived a fairly hermitic lifestyle, entirely by choice, as his favourite things to do mostly involved doing nothing at all. I once caught a glimpse of his secret list of goals and priorities, and ‘Sitting’ second place only to ‘Earn Money to Allow Sitting’.
He also liked to talk. A lot. You would be hard pressed to find a subject of conversation that didn’t remind Lex of something that may or may not have happened to him, somebody he knew, or somebody he read about one time. Lex’s favourite time of day was story time, and it was story time all the fucking time. No question about it, Lex was a born entertainer.
Ricardo was spluttering and coughing with laughter to my right. Ricardo “The Birdman” Dondor was tall, loud, and often wildly inappropriate. Amongst his defining physical attributes were his total inability to grow enough facial hair to be taken seriously as a man, and a torso that had no business being quite as long as it was. Finding shirts that didn’t suggestively expose his midriff was an eternal struggle for him, and one of many excuses to torment him for the rest of us.
Ricardo had earned his nickname “Birdman”, ironically enough, due to his overwhelming lack of drive or ambition. In all the time I’d known him, I’d never seen him gainfully employed. Still, he always seemed to have enough to pay the rent and drink excessively. Nobody knew where he got money from exactly, and outside of our constant accusations of gay prostitution, nobody really asked him either. We all just figured that some things are better left undiscovered.
“Oh, come on,” Ricardo yelled, suddenly angry. “I just washed this shirt!” He had, in his characteristically uncontrollable mirth, spilled beer down the front of himself. For most, this would just be chalked up as a casualty of the ‘Big Night Out’. For the Birdman, it was a legitimate tragedy. You see, Ricardo did his laundry, by my best estimate, a few times a year. Which was hilarious for two reasons: firstly, ‘I need to do my laundry’ was the excuse he used to get out of any and all social entanglements on a regular basis; and secondly, unemployment traditionally brings with it all the free time in the world. Between sleeping, eating and masturbation, your average unemployed person should still, realistically, have at least a few hours to spare a day for menial chores. It was one of the few great mysteries of our century.
“So, what did the dicks woman want?” asked Lex, ignoring Ricardo’s bitter plight.
“I don’t know, something about helping a friend with something, she wasn’t too clear on the whole thing,” I replied. “Neither of you two have any crazy schemes you’re about to rope me into, do you?”
“Not me,” answered Lex, picking up his drink.
“Nothing you’d want to know about,” Ricardo chimed in, trying to clean his shirt with what appeared to be more of his shirt. It wasn’t going well.
“That sounds ominous.” I eyed Ricardo suspiciously. “Whatever it is, the answer is hell no.”
“That’s ok,” replied Ricardo. “I don’t really need your consent.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” laughed Lex.
“Only after I’ve slipped them the roofie,” joked Ricardo. At least, I always assumed he was joking. As far as I knew, Dondor wasn’t actually a sex offender, but the things that came out of his mouth crossed the line often enough that an outsider could be forgiven for keeping a close eye on their drink at all times.
“Hi guys, how’s your night going so far?” It was Ally, one of the regular bar staff. She was cute and tiny, and, I had decided, just my kind of girl. That is to say, what I imagined my type of girl would be like, if I had the opportunity to be picky with women. In spite of all the recent yelling, threats, restraining orders, and other flirtatious behaviour, I couldn’t remember when the last time was that I’d actually been with one. Women were confusing as hell.
Still, I’d been nursing a bit of a crush since we first started drinking here, and it played no small part in why we continued to frequent the establishment. “Planning on having a big one?” she inquired.
“Not really,” responded the Birdman.
“Unless you’re talking about dicks,” chimed Lex. “In which case, yes, he’s planning on them. In the mouth.”
“In and around it,” I added. “That’s his style.”
Ally started giggling, and flashed us a smile. “Good luck with that, then!” she laughed. “Mind if I take some of these empty glasses?”
“Knock yourself out,” Ricardo winked. “We tried letting them clear themselves, and I think you can see how well that’s gone so far.”
“We should try not curing cancer,” I suggested. “I reckon give it a few months, we’d win the Nobel prize.”
“Suck on that, Science!” Lex cheered. “Outrageous incompetence saves the day again!”
Ally cleared the table, laughing at us and possibly our jokes a while longer, and wished us a fun evening. When she was out of earshot, Ricardo leaned over conspiratorially, and whispered to me. I’m sure it was intended to be a whisper, at any rate, but speaking in terms of ‘Dondor volume’, I’m pretty sure any deaf people in the vicinity would have heard it.
“Dude, you should ask her out.”
“Should I really?” I countered. “I’ve already asked one woman out tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve reached my monthly quota.”
“That went well, considering she hung up on you,” Lex offered helpfully.
“No man, I’m serious,” Ricardo continued. “She’s been giving you the old ‘Rape Eye’ all night.”
“She.. what?” I blinked, wondering if I’d heard that right.
Ricardo nodded solemnly, as if I should have any idea what he was getting at.
“Birdman, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“What?”
“She’s been giving me the fucking what?”
“Rape Eye.”
There was one of those uncomfortable silences that happened every so often when you were talking with the Birdman, during which everybody within earshot wonders just how arrested they could be for knowing him.
“Okay,” Ricardo begun. “So the rape eye, right? Um, where to begin. Alright. You know when a woman looks at you, right?”
Lex and I both nodded cautiously, wondering exactly where he was going with this.
“Continue,” I ventured, silently knowing I was going to regret this.
“It’s so hot when they do that. I love it!” Ricardo sat back, apparently quite pleased with himself. Another awkward silence followed.
“What? Is that it?” asked Lex, a little confused.
“Well, yeah,” answered Ricardo, like it should have been obvious. “It means they want to have sex with you.”
Lex and I looked at each other and shrugged. I’d been wondering what women did when they wanted to sleep with you. Most of my recent attempts to make a girl swoon had resulted in less of the sexy times, and much more running for my life while being chased by police.
“So it’s kind of the opposite of them screaming and hitting,” I inquired. “Or calling the police, or spraying mace in your eyes. That one’s the worst.”
“Got it in one. I mean, it probably wouldn’t hold up as a legal defence or anything, but you know what I’m getting at.”
“Makes sense,” Lex nodded, also filing it away for future reference.
Ricardo stretched and casually looked around. “See, check it out. She’s doing it again!”
I glanced in the direction Ricardo was very obviously pointing, and caught Ally’s eye. She winked and smiled, and disappeared back behind the bar to serve the growing line of customers. The Birdman may have had a point. I did some mental calculations, and figured I’d need four or five more beers, and possibly some bail money.
“Man, I wish Vintage was here, that guy’s like a magnet for attracting women.” I went back to my beer, which was fast becoming empty.
“Where is that guy, anyway?” Lex inquired.
“I gave him a bell earlier,” I replied. “Says he’s working late, might give us a call when he’s done. Heard anything from your brother?”
Lex shook his head. “It’s Friday, lad. Can you even remember the last time Kips had a Friday off? It’s the busiest night at the restaurant.”
“Speaking of which, what say we drop in later for a free feed?” suggested Ricardo.
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, and drained the last of my beer. “Shotgun not getting next round!” I yelled, slamming the empty glass on the table.
“Shotgun not!” Lex shouted.
“Shotgun not.. ah fuck.” Ricardo swigged the last of his pint, and stood up. “Same again?”
“Yeah, hit it up,” I replied, lighting a cigarette. “It’s been doing the job so far.”
As the Birdman left to get the next round, mumbling something about ‘idiots’ and ‘pissing in the next one’, I reclined in my chair and indulged the habit I’d been promising myself I’d kick for years now. I wanted to, sure, but I still enjoyed it too much. It was like sex, only I got to have it. One day, I thought. I wasn’t sure whether I was referring to quitting smoking, or getting laid. It didn’t matter, really. It was a safe bet that neither were happening any time soon.
“Beer’s up,” commented Lex, noting that Ricardo was already heading back with three fresh pints.
“Cool,” I replied, clearing some space for them on the table. Ricardo placed them down, and we all grabbed one each.
“So,” Ricardo began, “what’s happening with that Jeremy incident from work?”
“Which incident are you referring to?” I asked. There had been more than one. God I hated that guy. What a dick.
“The alleged brick through the alleged windshield one.”
“Allegedly,” added Lex.
“Oh, that.” I mused thoughtfully, and took a swig from my beer. “He dropped the charges after I told him the only think keeping you from harassing his sister was my good will.”
“He has a sister?” Ricardo quizzed. “Is she hot?”
“I didn’t even know he had one, honestly. It was a shot in the dark, but I figured it couldn’t hurt, what with the reputation you’ve got. People you don’t even know don’t want you near the women in their lives, apparently.”
Ricardo frowned, and sipped his pint. I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up, bumping the table and causing some of the beer to spill from the loaded glasses.
“Woah there,” protested Lex. “You need to settle down a bit, slappy! The hell you doing?”
“Need to piss,” I said, and started making my way through the crowd to the bathroom.
I entered the stall, and unzipped. Sweet relief, I thought, as I absentmindedly perused the toilet graffiti. My mind wandered back to what the Birdman had been saying earlier, about how Ally had been eying me off. Checking somebody out probably doesn’t equate to consent, I reasoned, but I should at least ask her for a number or something, shouldn’t I? Fuck, I wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough to just approach a woman and ask her out. Still, she does hang about to talk with us, right? That’s better than nothing, surely?
I zipped up, and started washing my hands in the basin. Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind, and saying “Fuck it” to nobody in particular, started making my way to the bar.
It took ages to get to the front of the line. How the hell did the Birdman get there and back so quick? I wouldn’t have put it past him to have walked behind the bar and poured them himself. It would explain why, unemployed and totally without prospects, he’s always able to get a round of drinks. I resolved to find out if I could actually do that and get away with it. I figure I owed it to myself to find out.
“Can I help you?”
I looked up, finding myself suddenly at the bar. Shit. It was some guy, what the fuck? I didn’t wait in line all this time just to ask out some dude. Balls.
“Um.. ah,” I stammered, stalling for time.
“It’s ok Tim, I’ve got this.” It was Ally. She took the guy’s place at the bar, saving me the embarrassment of finding out what I was going to do next. “How’s it going?” she asked with a grin.
“Yeah, uh.. good?” I offered, completely freezing up and forgetting what I was even doing there. “You?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she laughed. There was a moment of silence as she waited for me to find something, anything at all, to say. Nothing was coming. She gave up, and broke the silence. “Didn’t you guys get a new round just before?”
“No, that wasn’t us.”
“Yeah, I think it was. Your friend, the tall one, was trying to make his way behind the bar to make them himself, actually.” I fucking knew it!
“That sounds like something he would do,” I agreed. “Um.. just round of the same thanks..”
Ally arched one eyebrow momentarily, and then went to fetch the beer I had just unnecessarily ordered. God damn it, why couldn’t I just ask her? It’s not like I was trying to strike a peace deal with Hitler or anything. Actually, that would probably be a lot easier; all you would have had to do is kill him. Bastard’s been pretty peaceful since he died and all.. Or has he? Of course he has, when was the last time you heard of Germany being all up in arms about anything? I shook my head, wondering where all these stupid thoughts were coming from.
“This one’s on me,” Ally smirked, returning with the round.
“Wow, thanks,” I said, and then finally willed myself to blurt it out. “Uh, you don’t have a number, do you? That is, um, like a phone number? Or an email, or something?” An email? “That you, er, use to talk to people?” What the hell was I saying? Abort! Abort! Pull out now, while you still can! You’ll need what’s left of your dignity for the end of the night!
“Are you asking me for my number?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.
“I thought I was, but fuck knows what I’m doing now. I might just go back to not curing cancer and making dick jokes.”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Sorry?”
“A pen,” she repeated. “For me to write my number.” Shit. What am I, a stationary cupboard? I really hadn’t planned this through.
“No,” I mumbled. “Do you?”
“No,” she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence, during which I considered that, even if I had a pen, I’d probably be better off stabbing myself in the face with it at this point.
“Good talk,” I grimaced, turning to head back with my three amber trophies of defeat.
“I finish at three,” Ally offered helpfully.
“Sorry?”
“I finish at three,” she repeated. “Meet me here when I finish, we can grab a drink if you like.”
“Yeah, ok, sounds like a plan,” I said, dumbstruck. “I’ll, uh, be here. I’ll try bringing a pen this time, to save me looking like such an idiot.”
“Sounds good, make sure you’re here,” she said with a wink, and turned to serve another patron.
I made my way back to the table, wondering what in the beard of Zeus had just happened. It was like my brain had gotten Down’s syndrome momentarily and vomited on itself.
“Nice, more beer! That’s what I call planning ahead,” Ricardo cheered, and proceeded to drink the remaining half of his other pint in one hit.
“So, what was that about?” asked Lex.
“I think I just found out what it’s like to be Christopher Reeve.”
“What, Superman, or Christopher Reeve Freestyle Wheelchair Challenge?”
“Freestyle Wheelchair Challenge,” I responded, looking back at the bar. “Like, I went to ask her out and all, but nothing was doing anything I was wanting it to do. I mean, I didn’t collapse all over the floor and loose my bowel functions or anything, but still. Fuck being that guy.”
“If I ever become an invalid, I want you to kill me,” nodded the Birdman, taking one of the new beers.
“I’m pretty sure somebody’s going to kill you well before that happens,” Lex retorted. “Ten bucks says it’s tonight.”
“Twenty says he chokes to death on a cock,” i wagered.
“Thirty says he’s dressed in drag,” said Lex, upping the ante yet again.
“Hey,” Ricardo interjected. “If there’s going to be any dicks in anybody’s mouths tonight, it’s going to be yours. In each others. Because you’re a bunch of gays.”
“Ah, witty retort,” countered Lex.
I laughed, and sat down. Just as I’d reached my seat, my phone started ringing in my pocket. I cursed as I struggled to get it out while seated, only to have to stand up again anyway to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey Jake, you fuckin’ idiot! What’s doing?”
“Hey, Vintage! What’s happening, lad?”
“Not much, man, not much. Just finished work, you?”
“We’re just having a few drinks, you should come down!” Lexington and Ricardo both nodded their approval.
“I’d love to man, but actually I’ve got a bit of a favour to ask.”
“What’s that?” I quizzed.
“I just need a bit of a hand with something tonight, I’ll swing by and pick you up in a bit, if that’s cool. You mind, man?”
“Nah, that should be fine, we’re at the usual bar. Give me a call when you’re close and I’ll come to meet you.”
“Sweet as, I’ll be round soon. See you then, man.”
“Later, Vintage.” I hung up and placed the phone back in my pocket. As soon as I sat down, I realised I’d just have to answer it again shortly and swore, but I couldn’t have been bothered standing again.
“What was that about?” asked Ricardo, handing me my beer.
I took it, sipped thoughtfully, and then shrugged.
“Fucked if I know.”
Thanks! It's good to know other people are getting a kick out of this. Incidentally, the new post was meant to be up *last* weekend, but I fail at the auto-update feature, apparently. It's up now, anyways.
Posted by: Jake Mannon | 12/01/2009 at 11:06 PM
Oh, my GOD - this is hilarious! I can't wait for Saturday to read the next chapter. I am passing this around to those who may appreciate it.
Thanks for the great laugh!
Posted by: Dirtmonkey | 12/01/2009 at 05:43 PM