I had just finished whoring myself up one evening when I heard the honking radiating through my house, I peered out my curtains and that’s when I saw it! My best bitch, Bassten. In half a second I grabbed a hold of my bag and ran outside.
“Hi, *****! Get your hass out here! Look around, what is this? How lucky are weeze? Livin’ the dream. No big deal, living the dream! This is ridiculous.”
I gave her a hug and hopped into her ride. Bassten immediately reached into the back seat and pulled out a giant boom box. Then she pressed play, classic rock!
As we headed into the city we sang loudly and head banged. Also, we yelled at passerby’s. These two fungirls were headed out to a show, that’s right.
We were going to see: LA DUMBS!
Probably it took about thirty seconds to find street parking and enter the venue. We were on a mission, to become intoxicated. Halfway across the street, it happened. My fuzzy green clog snapped right in half. I picked it up in two pieces.
“CRAP!” I yelled, half at Bassten, half at the stupid shoe.
“What,” Bassten asked in shock, “was dat da pair a shoes I bought ya?”
“Yes! This is all your fault. What will I do now? Do you have an extra pair in the car I can borrow?”
“Na, I’m a size 10, dey wont fit ya.”
Damn that eight foot tall, model bitch.
“Let’s go inside and see if dey have some glue.”
“FINE! I don’t even care, I’ll go in barefoot.”
Luckily the bouncer didn’t care either, or perhaps he didn’t notice. Most men didn’t even notice I was there while standing next to Bassten. I was used to this and used my power of invisibility to sneak in undetected. I felt like a spy if spies are giant drunken sluts.
We parked at the bar and ordered some Vodka Martinis before wandering over to the stage. The floor felt sticky, I did not like this. Looking to my left I noticed a big, black box. Perfect! I decided it was an amazing spot to park my lard ass. I did so and sat the remaining pieces of my glueless platform beside me.
Just as Bassten and I were in mid conversation, making fun of a heffer in a tube top, it happened. Some douche bag wearing a bandanna on his head (probably covering up the thinning spot) walked up to me,
“Hey, get off the gear!”
“Huh?” I asked, confused.
“Your fat ass is going to dent my fucking speaker. Get down,” he ordered.
I still didn’t know what the hell he was talking about so I just ignored him and pointed out a man with hairy plumber crack to Bassten.
“Do you think stuff gets stuck in there?” I asked her.
“GET THE FUCK OFF MY SPEAKER, BITCH!”
Bassten and I both turned around. What the hell was this guys problem. Here we were trying to have a nice conversation and this jerk totally interrupted us. What happened next shocked the shit out of me.
All I remember, was catching in my vision, a fuzzy lump of lime green. That’s right, Bassten wasn’t gonna let this dweeb insult her “Fun Friend”. Before I could blink she had the top half of my muppet slipper flying at Bad-danna’s face.
Luckily she missed. Also, luckily she was hot.
Bad-danna didn’t even mind. He though she was “fiesty” and introduced himself as the singer of “LA Dumbs” before offering Bassten a drink. Then, he shoved me off the speaker. I decided that I had endured enough of his shit and walked my sticky, blackened feet onto the patio to take my rage out upon an innocent cigarette.
Bassten wasn’t far behind me, in her hands; two fresh Martinis.
“Can you believe dat guy? What a douche! He thinks he’s all that because he is the lead singer of some stupid one hit wonder band dat nobody even remembahs. There’s like five people here. I told him he was buying two drinks and he owed you an apology. He says to tell you he’s sorry for calling you fat.”
“It’s cool. I probably split his speaker! Ahahaha!”
“No way! He should be happy to have two hot chicks near the stage.”
“Well, I am kinda fat.”
“WHAT?!?! Are you kiddin’? You are freakin’ beautiful!”
This is why I like her.
Just then, a random black man approached us. No, this time I did not say the “N” word, thank you. Sometimes I reserve a tiny smidgen of class. The man was obviously drunk. He told us his name was Jerome. We chit chatted for a few minutes but quickly grew bored of his wasted flirtation.
“Let’s get outta here,” Bassten ordered.
I blankly followed.
“Red is supposed to meet up wit us at da next bar,” Bassten told me.
As we began walking towards our next martini, I noticed the usual crowd of Bassten’s male admirers slowing gathering behind us.
“Can I have a light?” one of three men asked Bassten.
“Sure, why the hell nat?” she said as she lit his cigarette.
I turned to look behind me and jumped in surprise. There in the middle of an intersection, was Bassten. she was removing her pants. We were not shit faced enough for this yet!
“Hey guys!” she yelled, “ya want me ta take off my pants? Do ya? I’m gonna do it!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I yelled at her, I was in no mood to be gang raped.
She didn’t stop or even slow down. Her jeans were unzipped and making their way to the pavement as I ran towards her.
“It’s alright you guys! I’m wearin’ spandex!”
“See, look! Unda my jeans, I’m wearing spandax! Awwwww! All of you’s thought I was gonna’ show ya my stuff didn’t ya!”
You love her now too, don’t you?
Red saw this in the distance and came running to the scene of the crime in horror.
“OMG! Did Bassten just remover HER PANTS?!?!?!”
“She’s wearing spandex.”
“Hey Red, it’s cool! I’m wearing spandex!” she said as she pranced her perfect, elastic stretched ass over to the sidewalk.
Red was carrying a rather large plastic bag.
“Whatta’ ya got in da bag?” Bassten asked her.
“Liquor bottles from work at the restaurant. I was saving them for a friend who needed them for a school project. I have all kinds!” she said pulling out an almost empty bottle of Belevedere Vodka
Bassten’s eyes lit up like a diabetic at a sugar free dessert bar.
“Dare is still some in dare!” she shouted while snatching the bottle out of Red’s hand, “I can’t let that go to waste. It’s like half a shot!”
As she swung the bottle I could see something inside floating around, it was grey and maybe fuzzy. She started to tip the bottle back to her face.
“NO!” Red and I both screamed in unison.
“There’s something in there!” I shouted.
“I got those out of the trash!” Red warned.
“Nah, it’s fine.”
It was too late.
Bassten pounded that bottle faster than a hooker with a protein deficiency. Almost as quickly, with a frightened gag, out it came; all over the sidewalk.
She was still wearing spandex. Now it was speckled.
“It was an oyster!” I shouted after inspecting her prize. This was more exciting than opening up a box of Cracker Jacks.
“What? No it wasn’t. I’m a vegetarian.”
“Technically you didn’t digest it!” Red assured her.
“I need to wash my mouth out! Lets stop over at Iggie’s on the way to the bar!” Bassten ordered, still in terror.
We followed her the half a block to our friends house and knocked on the door. Iggie opened up and the three of us entered. We said our hellos and all took seats on Iggie’s sofas.
I looked to my right and jumped when I saw it.
It was a random black man. That was odd.
“Who’s your friend?” Iggie asked us.
“Huh?” I asked, confused.
“I’m Red,” she introduced herself to him.
“My name is Jerome,” the man relpied.
That’s when it finally hit us! “OH! The drunk guy! From the concert!” He must have bee following us all this time and we hadn’t even noticed. It didn’t matter much now because he was no longer interested in us girls, he had his sights set on a woman. A real woman; Iggie.
I know this because I watched him as he reached out and touched her thigh.
“Hey baby, you so beautiful. How about you let me take you on a ride you neva’ forget?”
“Umm, excuse me?” Iggie asked, “I don’t know you, I’m not even sure how you got into my house. Could you please leave?”
“Awww baby, why you be like that?” he grabbed her hand and kissed it, “I bet I can make you feel real good.”
My Fun Girls and I loved this. It was very amusing. Iggie looked to each of us for help. They just laughed at her. I however encouraged this.
“Come on Iggie, he seems like a nice guy and we all know your cooch is covered in cobb webs. Jerome was sent here like an angel, an angel of tube steak. You can’t let such an opportunity pass you by. This was destiny.”
Iggie did not think so. She thought Jerome was really creepy, she was pissed.
“Do you have your cell phone handy by chance?” She asked him.
“Sure,” he said while reaching into his pocket, before handing it to her.
This was the moment I learned a very useful tool that I have used many times after; Iggie opened up Jerome’s contacts page and dialed. When the phone started ringing, she handed it back to Jerome.
“Hello?” a female voice vibrated through the line.
“What the hell you calling me at midnight for? Everything OK?”
“Uh, Jerome, you better take that call outside before I tell your mother, very loudly, how her son treats women. I bet she didn’t raise you that way.”
Jerome took the clue and made a run for it. I have never seen someone so black turn a paler shade of white. It was brilliant, like an iguana at the North Pole.
We never ran into him again, although Iggie was paranoid for weeks that he might return. Bassten continued to wear spandex. Also, bathrobes. She wore a black silk bathrobe out bar hopping one night but that’s a totally different story.