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.
WTF?
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?
No.
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.
Gah!
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….
:::breadsticks from hell : part i:::
:::breadsticks from hell : part ii:::
:::breadsticks from hell : part iii:::
goaded by stilletto | inspired by rain
where the art work came from :
that is bad girl by joe hendry
30 Responses to breadsticks from hell : part ii
Oh my. Sucking on your window? I bet he STILL has never had sex with anyone other than his Mom.
It was like having some form of parasitic marine life hanging off the window. Like I had not seen the interior of his mouth enough already that night to make sleep problematic for years to come — and not in a good way.
That guy has the worst mouth in the universe. Cement mixing to suction cupping your window. Can’t wait for the killer ending.
I think it was an unfortunately deranged attempt to show me what I was missing not kissing him. It so worked for demonstrative purposes though. I was doing Mach VII out of that parking lot.
“Come back – we have chemistry” – LOL! Why are some men so clueless?
“That. Was. Crimson. Curl. Abuse.”
I’m torn between contempt for indecency of the act, and intrigue at what sort situation I could bring forth to disorder those inviolate curls.
“Cement Mixer started sucking on my car window.”
Damn his Remora hide!
“Come back! We have chemistry!”
His oblivousness is almost Quixoticaly charming.
“Grabbed me in an attempted head lock. And tried to give me a noogy.”
— Clearly, “Cement Mixer” was an ass of extraordinary magnitude.
““Grabbed me in an attempted head lock. And tried to give me a noogy.”
– Clearly, “Cement Mixer” was an ass of extraordinary magnitude.”
What are you talking about, that is my best move.
Well, aside from the old “could you fish those dimes out my pocket, I burnt my hands pulling a toddler from the clutches of a flaming eagle” bit.
“Damn his Remora hide!”
That is too funny. Valliant, come over.
Man, he totally flunked getting past the oral stage of Freud’s psychosexual development ladder.
That dude has ISSUES!
Clearly he was bottle fed.
Ah. You did run away. Thank god.
‘Sucking on the window’? Good grief.
Russians do not do that, right? They may be short, but not car window glass sociopaths right?
They wouldn’t have recovered from the affront of you beating them at pool, rest assured.
Ah. Men with dignity. I wish they were taller. Sigh.
Headlocks and window sucking. Are you sure this wasn’t a flashback to primary (elementary) school…?
Did he tug on your curls or throw chalk at you at any time?
Just checkin’…
Gee I dunno, Vanessa, he attacked my curls and we were in a pool parlor where chalk could have been hurled at any moment.
When is the last time you were on date with a member of the opposite sex again?
I’m thinking it was possibly never. Not in the sense that you guys talk about it. Maybe it’s a cultural thing (I’m Australian), or maybe I’m just a freak……….
Boys used to pull my hair a lot in primary school. Not so much with the headlocks, but we’re in the same ballpark… I also recall a boy who had a crush on me, throwing chalk at me in the classroom. Nearly took an eye out…
Actually, it sounds like there was chemistry there – the kind used as the basis for binary nerve gas weapons
If I had been carrying pepper spray the chemistry would have been flying.
I got the imagery of a large, round mouthed moray eel.
Great writing! Enjoyed it.
lauriekendrick.wordpress.com
There just doesn’t seem to be any room in dating anymore for a close-range, well-placed shotgun blast any more . . . .
Frontier, you crack me up. Are you Canadian?
Ask Rain – the truth would be far too horrible coming from my lips
Well, at the risk of being lumped in as an Imus sympathizer, the jig is up . . . .
http://raincoaster.com/2007/04/10/by-request-2/
Jeesh. That was work.
and the fact I live in the same country made it even worse for you?
Look at the bright side – I chew with my mouth closed and I’m not hitting on you >B^D>
Well I have seen photos of your puppy clearly you are a man of taste and fine sensibility.
Can’t wait for Rain to read that one – she’ll choke on the laughter