That one time at that one titty bar with that one guy. [locked from his wife/work associates]
[ooc note: this story was inspired by a local band Beam and Eads and even though they’ll never come across this- I want to give them credit when credit is due.]
[also, the cast of dwpbackstage and dinowallporn specifically used with/without permission and with sooooo much love!
Okay, okay so one time not that long ago in a far off kingdom just south of I-70 down by stripper row we decide to take one of the boys to a titty bar for their bachelor party. Partially because it was far enough away our wives/fiancés/boyfriends would never find us. (Yes, boyfriends. I’m looking at you Mr. “Hair product of the week”) But mostly because I Max forgot to book strippers and a hotel, (and when was I supposed to? On the church phone?!?!?)
It’s not a high-class place, last week’s peanut shells on the floor and shots that no man should be able to stomach. We’re not there for ten minutes, heck- the girl’s clothes are all but on, when what do you figure? The freaking lights go out. And I mean they didn’t just flicker, they went out. So we’re all sitting there with our horse-piss beer and not knowing what is going on! Finally the manager comes out and sadly tells us that no, there will no longer be a titty show and we might as well all go home.
Do you think we’re going to stand for that? Heck. No. Max goes and raises his hand, and before I’ve set down my glass he’s asking all the guys in room to go get their flashlights out of their trucks. - I’m not sure if you know this (as some of you all are from the city areas - and I do forgive you for that) but out in the sticks, all men carry three things n their truck. 1: a flashlight 2: a boxcutter/gerber 3: a tire iron. While the latter two might be used for a homicide the first was what we were looking for- before you knew it the building emptied for all but us and the ladies on stage. They turned to Max and called out (in a very lady-like way) “What are we going to do for music?!?”
Max knew what to say, he turned to face us, the guys and nodded a few times. “Don’t worry- what we got here is the greatest band east of the river and to boot, our instruments! It took about fifteen seconds before we were out to our cars as well, grabbing our instruments and put on an acoustic show for all the boys in the building.
The manager? That old bastard guy had all our drinks free! The girls, oh those lovely ladies were stuffing dollars down our shirts to keep us playing. “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” has never been put to such amazing use. (And I’m pretty sure that none of those ladies had ever danced to it either.)
Well needless to say, that somehow we had walked out of that slap-shingle building with more money than we walked in. What’s even better, is that as soon as we walked out, sloshed and excited and sloshed, one of the guys asked what we were supposed to do with all these singles down our shirts. It wasn’t like we could go home with them, (or at least, I couldn’t.)
The answer I think was obvious.
Go to a titty bar.
Nate Anderson
Original Character
559
[also, the cast of dwpbackstage and dinowallporn specifically used with/without permission and with sooooo much love!
Okay, okay so one time not that long ago in a far off kingdom just south of I-70 down by stripper row we decide to take one of the boys to a titty bar for their bachelor party. Partially because it was far enough away our wives/fiancés/boyfriends would never find us. (Yes, boyfriends. I’m looking at you Mr. “Hair product of the week”) But mostly because I Max forgot to book strippers and a hotel, (and when was I supposed to? On the church phone?!?!?)
It’s not a high-class place, last week’s peanut shells on the floor and shots that no man should be able to stomach. We’re not there for ten minutes, heck- the girl’s clothes are all but on, when what do you figure? The freaking lights go out. And I mean they didn’t just flicker, they went out. So we’re all sitting there with our horse-piss beer and not knowing what is going on! Finally the manager comes out and sadly tells us that no, there will no longer be a titty show and we might as well all go home.
Do you think we’re going to stand for that? Heck. No. Max goes and raises his hand, and before I’ve set down my glass he’s asking all the guys in room to go get their flashlights out of their trucks. - I’m not sure if you know this (as some of you all are from the city areas - and I do forgive you for that) but out in the sticks, all men carry three things n their truck. 1: a flashlight 2: a boxcutter/gerber 3: a tire iron. While the latter two might be used for a homicide the first was what we were looking for- before you knew it the building emptied for all but us and the ladies on stage. They turned to Max and called out (in a very lady-like way) “What are we going to do for music?!?”
Max knew what to say, he turned to face us, the guys and nodded a few times. “Don’t worry- what we got here is the greatest band east of the river and to boot, our instruments! It took about fifteen seconds before we were out to our cars as well, grabbing our instruments and put on an acoustic show for all the boys in the building.
The manager? That old bastard guy had all our drinks free! The girls, oh those lovely ladies were stuffing dollars down our shirts to keep us playing. “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” has never been put to such amazing use. (And I’m pretty sure that none of those ladies had ever danced to it either.)
Well needless to say, that somehow we had walked out of that slap-shingle building with more money than we walked in. What’s even better, is that as soon as we walked out, sloshed and excited and sloshed, one of the guys asked what we were supposed to do with all these singles down our shirts. It wasn’t like we could go home with them, (or at least, I couldn’t.)
The answer I think was obvious.
Go to a titty bar.
Nate Anderson
Original Character
559