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It happened on a fall evening during one of my anorexic phases. I was eating my daily meal of fat free microwaved pop-corn and watching some music videos online when the instant message popped up onto my screen.

“Hey Asterisk, do you have plans tonight?” it read.

Okay, so actually it read a little more like this, “Heyy asterisk doh ya ave planss 2nite?”

It was from my chat buddy, Bat. He wasn’t the best of conversation but he seemed pretty into me. Although we had never actually met in person, we frequented the same goth clubs and shared a passion for fishnet stockings and Doc Martins.

I looked at my phone, it wasn’t ringing. Actually it was Friday night and once again I didn’t have a thing to do.

“Not yet, why do you ask?” I responded.

“me and soe frinds are proly gonna get some coffee er somethin later on do you wanna meet up with uss?”

Although Bat was pretty stupid, HE WAS HOT! At least according to the picture he sent me. He was crouched on a curb with his long dark hair pulled up into a pony tail dressed in faux military fatigues. Laced up just below his knee were 20 eye boots. I could even make out a hint of guy-liner under his eyes.

Meow.

“Which coffee shop?” I asked.

“oooooo im not sur yeet yu can meat at my house.”

I picked up my phone and dialed my friend, Lame’.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hey Lame’, It’s Asterisk. What are you doing tonight?”

“Not much, I was just going to chill out on my couch and watch a movie.”

“No. We have to go out,” I ordered.

“Why?” she said within a long pause between a solemn yawn.

“Because, I met this hot guy on the internet and he wants to hang out. I can’t go alone, he could be a murderer.”

“I don’t want to get murdered,” she stated.

“He’s not a murder! I was just making a point! Come on, his friends are coming and I bet they are hot too!”

“Are you picking me up at least?”

“Of course! I can be there in an hour. Well, hour and a half I need to get ready!”

I hung up the phone and messaged Bat.

“OK, I can be there at eight. How do I get there?”

This was before the convenience of GPS navigation and the beloved Mapquest so I had to wait for Bat to type me out  his slightly illiterate and extremely simple directions. When they finally arrived I printed them out and shoved the paper into my purse.

I marched straight into the bathroom and smothered my face with black liner, false lashes and an array of blotchy glitter collected from the Hot Topic clearance shelf. Once my hair was teased and crispy I walked into the closet and began pulling out short skirts. I tried on probably half my wardrobe before finally deciding on one in a hot pink, vinyl leopard print that tugged my fat ass in all the right places. I matched it up with an overly padded push up bra and laced up titty top. After slipping on a spiked collar and a pair of 6 inch platforms I was on my way.

I pulled up to Lame’s house and let out a good push of the horn. A moment later she walked outside and to the passenger side of my car.

She was wearing knee high studded boots and black skirt resembling a tutu. Also she had on a corset.

I started the engine in my rusty beater and put on Depeche Mode at max volume through my crackling speakers.

That’s when I noticed it.

Lame’s eyes were glassy and she was sweating.

“Lame, what’s the matter with you? You look like you are about to give birth!” I shouted over the music.

“It’s my rrrrrr…..”

“What!” I shouted again.

Lame reached over and turned down the tape deck.

“My rib! I broke my rib last week wearing a damn corset!”

I glanced at her chest.

“Uh, just a suggestion, Lame’, MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T BE WEARING THE FUCKING CORSET!” I lectured her like she was a competitor in the “special Olympics.”

She rolled her eyes, “Not this corset, Asterisk. The red one with the metal boning, this is just for show.”

“Then why do you look like you are taking it in the butt right now?”

“Because even sitting hurts!” she explained as we pulled into a gas station.

“I need cigarettes,” I said while getting out of the smog mobile. Lame’ followed, slowly. After our purchase we buckled our seat belts back up and headed out towards the freeway.

“Where are we going, anyway?” she asked me.

I reached into my bag and handed Lame the crumpled up piece of paper.

“Wait. What city are we going to?” she asked me a bit confused.

Anaheim. Can’t you read?”

“Then why are we getting onto the 60 freeway? These directions don’t look accurate? I think we are supposed to get on 605?” she suggested.

“Have you been to Bat’s house before?”  I asked growing increasingly annoyed.

“No, but..”

“Bat sent me these directions and I’m sure that Bat knows how to get to his own house Lame’!”

Just as I was about to slap that dumb bitch across her spider tattooed face it happened.

Flashing lights.

We were being pulled over.

“God damn it!” I yelled.

I turned on my blinker and merged over to the right side of the road. Once were had come to a complete stop a police officer got out and knocked on my cracked window with the handle of his flash light. I rolled it down as fast as my lazy arm would allow.

“Where are you ladies going tonight?” he asked us.

I let out an annoyed sigh and responded, “To the coffee shop.”

“Dressed like that? You look like you ladies are going ‘to work,'”

“WHAT?!” I looked over to Lame’ in shock.

“I watched you both getting into the car and I noticed how you were dressed. Young ladies don’t ‘get coffee’ with their rear ends exposed. License and insurance please.”

“Oh my God,” I muttered while reaching into my glove box. I handed him the papers, my hand shaking with nerves as he shined his flash light into my eyes.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No! I don’t drink. We are getting coffee!”

That son of a bitch laughed, “Ya right. You hands are shaking. I can tell you are on something.”

 

“I’m just nervous! You are freaking me out.”

I recently had watched a report on CNN about men posing as cops and pulling woman over to rape and murder them. I was not ready to be the next victim.

The light moved over to Lame’.

“Turn your car off,” he ordered as he walked around to the passenger side to get a closer look at my friend.

“What are you on? Your eyes are dilated.”

“Nothing,” she swore.

“I can see you are sweating.”

“It’s my corset! I broke a rib and…”

The officer cut her off, “Step out of the vehicle!”

Scared and a bit shaken, Lame’ attempted to comply. Her slow expulsion and lack of footing was not very convincing. Then that asshole made her walk the line in her six inch stilettos. It was hilarious yet she pulled it off, barely. Once he was convinced she wasn’t high as a kite he let her return to her seat.

Now the interrogation was back onto me, “What do you have in those water bottles?”

“Uh, water?” I responded.

He reached into the car and pulled one out, opened it and sniffed.

I rolled my eyes.

After roughly fifteen minutes of this bullshit he finished up his search. Satisfied, or perhaps a bit disappointed he had no choice but to let us go.

As he was handing me back my papers I asked, “On what grounds, besides garment discrimination, did you pull us over for anyway?”

“That air freshener! You can’t have it hanging from the mirror. Remove it before I issue you a citation!”

Dick.

I reached over and pulled my strawberry scented my little pony off and threw it onto the floor of the car in a pout.

We entered the freeway and merged into the car pool lane. After about thirty minutes Lame’ looked over to me a bit concerned.

“Um, Asterisk, we have been driving for quite a while, I don’t think Anaheim is this far away.”

“What do the directions say?”

“They say to exit on Katella. You know we were ON Katella before we got onto the freeway, right?”

I looked over to my left to notice we were in the mountains.

“Give me that!” I said as I snatched the paper out of her hands.

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I did, but you said that he…”

“Just shut up!” I yelled while pulling off at the first exit I could find. It was a dirt road and there didn’t seem to be an on-ramp anywhere near by. Dust was flying out from the tires and making the road almost impossible to see. I was about to give up when the beautiful green sign appeared like a gift from an angel.

We reentered the freeway.

“I think we should wait until we are closer to home and then try calling Bat,” Lame’ suggested.

I agreed and when city lights were finally visible we did just that. Bat apologized but I was still pretty pissed and almost canceled our plans altogether.

Lucky for him he knew enough to beg. 

As it turned out, Lame’ had been right after all, though I would never admit that to her. We pulled off on the same exit we had originally entered and drove the five miles to Bat’s apartment complex.

One we found a spot to park, we jumped out. I had just locked the door and turned around when IT appeared.

It was a fat boy with a half balding head and white contact lenses. His lips were smeared red and his face powered white. He was wearing a trench coat that was obviously too snug to button.

On his feet, worn out Doc Martins.

 

EWWWW

I looked at him a bit confused and took a step back towards the curb.

That COULDN’T be him!

“Asterisk?” the goulsbury dough boy asked.

Oh FUCK.

“It’s me, Bat!”

Lame’ started laughing.

“Uh….hi,” I mumbled.

Just then I noticed the smell.

It was an odor unlike anything I had ever inhaled before. It definitely had the presence of fecal matter within it but it was almost sweet, with a pineapple undertone..

What had I done? This was NOT the hot guy from the picture.

Bat smiled.

He was missing teeth.

Important ones.

“This way, I want you to meet my friends,” he ushered Lame’ and me towards his apartment door.

I looked over to Lame’ for some help. Her face it up brighter than Japan after an atomic bomb as she began following Bat into his cave.

I had no choice but to fold under the pressure and follow them, swallowing what was left of my moronic pride. After what happened next, I would have probably preferred forced penetration.

Bat opened the door and we stepped inside.

Before I could close it behind me I was hit in the mouth by something warm and wet.

I suddenly knew where that unusual stench had originated.

Monkeys.

That’s right!

In a cage across from the door were three fucking monkeys wearing baby diapers and they were throwing their own shit!

Another chunk came flying past me and splattered onto the wall.

I looked around to realize it was everywhere! I was standing in the middle of the worlds largest litter box.

I cringed, I gagged and I began to cry as Bat came at me with a towel.

“Oh man,” he mustered, “That didn’t make a very good first impression, did it?”

I should have punched him in his ugly face but figured “what’s the use?” since all the good teeth were already gone.

Instead I began to bawl.

“Monkeys! Monkeys? MONKEYS!!!!” was all that would come out.

Well, that and mud.

“Actually they are chimpanzees, my roommate works for a vet and….”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I was already out of the apartment and racing to my car.

Only, I was blinded by shock and shit and lacking any real sense of direction. Instead, I ran aimlessly in circles trying to find my car.

Lame’ eventually took pity on me (after extracting just enough joy) and lead me to the rusty Chevy.

It was the longest ten minute drive back home ever and Lame’ continued to crack jokes.

“You sure we shouldn’t get back onto the freeway? I think we are going the wrong way! AHAHA!” she taunted in laughter while holding her rib.

Bat continued to instant message me for literally several years after this, though I never responded.

The smell of moldy pinacoloda remained on palate for weeks.

Actually, right now, I think I can taste it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21 thoughts on “Chimp Cocktail

  1. Oh, my stars. This seriously tops anything I can think of. What a terrible night! At least you have this horrendous, hilarious, story to tell.

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  3. “Although Bat was pretty stupid, HE WAS HOT!”

    Although??? Isn’t that how it usually works??? Stupid people look hot. They use their looks to get through life.

  4. You have a friend named “Lame”??? That’s appropriate.

    Why do people keep calling you Asterisk? I thought your name was Wendi Bear.

    If I was gay, you and I could be good friends, because I think you would make a good fag hag. Gay guys love sexual immorality just as much as you seem to.

    • No, not “Lame,” Lame’. Pronounced: La-may. It’s a type of fabric. IF you were gay, you would know that.

      My name is Wendi Bear. I write fiction, Matthew. My fictional lead character is named Asterisk Five. It’s a joke. Sometimes it looks like this: *****, and sometimes it’s just spelled out.

      I thought you were my super fan! I’m so disappointed!

      • I can tell you’re unemployed. You respond to every comment I make, and you’ve never met me. I need a woman who will hang on my every word, but she has to live on the East Coast and be rich because I have trouble holding jobs too.

        • Lol! I manage a store 7 days a week, write for two magazines and am in the middle of writing two new books.

          Yet still, I appreciate your comments. I make it a priority to keep up on my social media when ever I have a few extra minutes.

          I’m addicted too energy vampires (like my phone).

          Last month I shut my phone off for a week to recoup.

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  6. Monkey see, monkey doo poo. Ya, this time it was yer fault. No shit, or too much shit. Smothering your face with blotchy glitter Hot Topic shit then noodling your hair til teased and crispy was wasted on Bat and Cheetah. Too bad you were’nt snapping gum the cop would’ve thought you were Bay Ridge gals heading out in a Saturday Night Fever. A police escort is hot.

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