“Last call bitches!”
It’s 1:45am. What happened to all the troll women who were here earlier? Seems they’ve been replaced by cuties in tight denim and skirts. Damn beer goggles! The patrons storm the bar as if “Last call” means last beer you’ll ever drink mother fuckers! Rhonda presses her tit against my left shoulder as she leans over the bar. The sleeve tattoos on both arms make her so much hotter .
“A Pearl!” she yells to Elmo, the bartender who has tattoos running from his forehead down his ass crack. “Ouch!” All I can think. He points at me.
“A Lone Star.” Damn he should know by now.
Elmo’s quick. Just as I glance over to peek at the Ganesh tattoo on Rhonda’s tits, diving from her low cut black Tee shirt, the beers are served.
“I’ll get hers.” I tell him.
“Thanks.” she smiles. Nice smile. We’re not going home together, but for the extra dollar the Pearl costs me, I’m able to flirt, if only briefly. Suddenly, my painful years of meditating and putting my legs to sleep is starting to pay off. Bringing absolute mindfulness into the moment allows me to observe her without distraction. The tattoos become an exhibit of postmodern art. I find myself walking through the epic halls of the Met. It’s an orgy of color, design, shapes, of all sorts. A graphic designers wet mother fucking dream. Her tight jeans pull my attention from her arms to her thighs. Damn! They fit perfect. I search for a flaw in her legs. I’m unsuccessful. No luck. I feel it. An erection creeps up. Inevitably, my eyes find her breasts. We are eye to nipple. Quickly I scan my mind’s hard drive of nipples. She has no idea how rock hard I am.
What seemed to last minutes, happens over the course of a glance. It would have lasted a few more seconds if it wasn’t for Leonard. That fucking Leonard!
“A Pearl, bud. Please, one more Man, before they close this joint.” The bum thinks I’m his booze pimp. His breath reeks of warm beer that’s been sitting for hours. Elmo makes eye contact with me. I signal him for another Pearl.
“Thanks!” Rhonda puts her hand on my shoulder as she walks off. Leonard eyes her as if discovering a free keg of beer.
“That’s some tight shit there.”
He repulses me. At least my objectification of women is done with class. Leonard is simply a walking perv.
Other selections from the upcoming novel BOOZEHOUND:
Excerpt from the Upcoming Novel BOOZEHOUND
The Second Cumming of Leonard—Excerpt from the Novel BOOZEHOUND
Leonard, that old piece of shit—Excerpt from the Novel BOOZEHOUND
Bar Talk 4: Leonard’s Drunk Again
Bar Talk 3: Leonard