breadsticks from hell : part ii
Normally I am not a good pool player.
I like pool. I play pool. But. Pretty much my ability to play pool matches my inner rage quotient during a game. In a good mood? I play not so well. Ready to carve someone’s head off? My ability rises. We had cues. We had chalk. We had a table. But I was debilitated by breadstick mayhem. I would never have cleared a shot. Except —
Cement Mixer shouted, You’re such a babe! Grabbed me in an attempted head lock. And tried to give me a noogy.
I am pretty sure this was some sort of misguided macho display intended to notify guys at the next table Cement Mixer was WITH me. It did not matter why though. It did not matter when. It did not matter what planet. I had long flowing crimson curls. Chemically enhanced crimson curls. Crimson curls that were, fuck me, perfect. And the only person who should have been touching them or misaligning them was ER technicians called to the scene of a crime or someone I would actually invite into my bed.
That. Was. Crimson. Curl. Abuse.
There. Was. Only. One. Right. Response.
I invoked the gods of inner rage and cleared the table — treacherously emasculating Cement Mixer in the eyes of guys at the next table. And the date was over. I headed for the door —
Cement Mixer, probably tallying sexual favors the restaurant tab entitled him to in his head, tried to get his arm around me outside the pool place.
Don’t I get a kiss?
Come on, it’s the nineties, what are you, a nun?
[It was the nineties too and you will notice I am still totally scarred by this date.]
I made it across the street and into my car.
Cement Mixer started sucking on my car window.
I am not kidding. Sucking. On. My. Car. Window.
I told him — and I had to kind of shout, since it was going through car window glass — I am pulling out he should back off the window.
His window ministrations intensified.
I pulled out.
His feet survived. When I drove away, he was still standing. In the parking lot. Shouting —
Come back! We have chemistry!
You would think it would end there. And in a kinder gentler universe, it would. But it didn’t.
To Be Continued….