Saturday, August 4, 2007

Murphy's Adventures in Dating; Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter 1 ...

Alternative title: Cupid is a Punk

Here ya go, Deborah,



CLASSIFICATION: SORTA SOOPER-SECRET

FROM: CHERUB HIGH COMMAND

TO: CUPID


SITUATION: YOU ARE HEREBY INSTRUCTED TO LINK UP WITH 1ST REGIMENT,

FLYING MONKEY LEGION
(2ND ARCHER PLATOON).

MISSION: 1) CONDUCT JOINT TRAINING OPERATIONS IN MIDDLE-A-NOWHERE, TX

2) REPORT ON FEASIBILITY OF FUTURE DEPLOYMENT OF COMBINED FORCES IN

OPERATION: WORLD DOMINION.

3) IF OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS ITSELF, TARGET OF OPPORTUNITY IS LISTED AS ONE

MURPHY, CURRENTLY A BARTENDER AT BAR NAMED 'REDNECK RODEO'.

EXECUTION: COMMANDER'S INTENT IS SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF MISSIONS

LISTED ABOVE.

ADMINISTRATION & LOGISTICS: YOU WILL SELF TRANSPORT TO THE FORCES

LINK-UP SITE, CLEVERLY DISGUISED AS THE AUSTIN INTERNATIONAL ZOO.

FROM THERE, 2ND PLT. WILL PROVIDE SUPPORT IN ESCORT, SECURITY,

AND ANY HOSTILE INTERACTION.

N.B. POSSIBILITY OF HOSTILE ACTION FROM MURPHY.

COMMAND & SIGNAL: 1ST MONKEY BOBO TO HAVE OVERALL COMMAND OF MISSION.

YOU ARE LEAD IN TARGET OF OPPORTUNITY ACQUISITION AND USE OF FORCE.

P.S. I'M SURE THAT MURPHY WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU DIDN'T SCREW IT UP

LIKE LAST TIME.



END OF MESSAGE



I really didn't want to be at work that night.

Unfortunately, one of the bouncers needed the night off to visit his dying grandmother (think it was the third time she died), and I had no other plans for the evening. As my most recent ex was somewhere in Europe probably having a 'grand old time' and I was not really keen on spending what little money I had, I decided to take him up on his request of covering his shift. Heck, even if I am only making a little bit o' money, that usually means that I'm not spending it, right?

I really didn't want to be at work that night.

Instead of making the big bucks behind the bar, I was relegated to checking IDs and baby-sitter duty at the front entry. At least one of my buddies was there, so I could piss and moan in between fake IDs, early drunks, and the like about all that was wrong with the world, namely; women. He had recently sworn off women (read - he got kicked to the curb, as well) and was most definitely in the same frame of mind. Eventually, we both agreed that somebody upstairs was having a whole bowl of Chuckle-Os at our expense. I had a personal theory that if Cupid really existed, he was testing out new and unproven bows & arrows at the shooting range that was moi.

As bar nights go, it was generally an uneventful night. Not too much in the way of disturbances, due to the Deputies that were recently hired to keep a wary eye on things. They were happy to take the additional money from the bar, but not too keen on actually working. Not that they were afraid of working, but if they did have to break a sweat, well... let's just say that when the hangover wore off, there were going to be some achy bodies the next morning. My kind of guys.
Towards the end of the night our focus, as bar employees, went from watching the people coming in to watching the people going out. There are always a few guys that think they can just go out to the parking lot immediately outside the doors to engage in a tussle, or a few guys that believe if they just don't look at us as they stumble and stagger out the door, we somehow wont notice them as they try to twirl their car keys, whistle out of key, bump into three stools, drop their keys, apologize profusely to the stools, throw up a little in their mouths, cop a feel on one of the unsuspecting stools, stagger to their feet, walk two paces, remember their keys, snag them up, and finally figure out how to operate that tricky door thing to the parking lot.

It kept us occupied.

During the last hour of the night, one memorable drunk came up to me.

DRUNK - Heh....hey!

ME - Yes sir?

DRUNK - Hey!

I think we already covered this

DRUNK - Hey...Lemme ash you a queshion!

This was about when they normally asked me for a telephone number for the local cab company, where their friends were, what restaurants were still open, or where they parked their car.

DRUNK - Hey!

ME - Yes sir -whoa! Watch out there (he almost fell over on my feet).

I helped to support him by placing on hand on his back. In return, he flung his arm around my shoulder. At that point I started to look around for the Deputy. If this guy was serious about leaving the bar, it was something I kind of felt that Mr. Deputy should be aware of. Fortunately for my drunkard, a group of people came up at just that moment, grabbed his arm, apologized to me, and walked him out of the bar.


Just as the door closed, I could have sworn that I heard a twanging sound, a ricochet, and some soft angelic-type curses.

I had turned back from the exit door to watch the people still in the bar. As I was faced in this direction, I failed to notice my drunken friend re-enter the building. He stumbled up to me, threw one arm around my shoulders, put his other hand on my chest for additional stabilization, and slur-shouted over the music-

DRUNK - Hey!

Again?

ME - Sir, we have cards for a local cab there on the counter -

DRUNK - Hey! I gotta queshion that I really wanna ashk you!

Of course, just before his actual question, the music ended, and the dj was just a little bit slow in beginning his into for the last song of the night. The result? Dead air (no music, just the murmur of conversation)

DRUNK - HOW DID YOU GET TO BE SO GOOD LOOKIN'?!?!

Several things happened at the same time.

About 500 heads turned in my direction.
My buddy very nearly pissed himself.
Mr. Deputy placed one hand on a table, bent slightly, and began to examine the floor. Intensely.
My drunk started to cop a feel.

What commenced for about the next twenty seconds was the rather rare dance of bouncer attempting to avoid the unwanted drunken caresses of an amorous admirer. This was accompanied, naturally, by chuckles throughout the bar. Now, despite my military background, I have nothing personally against those types, I have some good friends that are gay. It's just that working at about the picture definition of a country bar would be the last place that I would expect to be hit on by another guy. Geez, he didn't even try to smooth talk me or nuthin'! His friends came back in, gathered him up again, and whisked him out of the bar. Naturally, most of the employees came over to congratulate me in my return to the dating pool, and to ask me if I had any recommendations in re their interior design.

As I looked up to the heavens to express my displeasure at the situation, I swore I would find Cupid and arrange a new quiver for his arrows.







6 comments:

Deborah Aylward said...

You see? You DO have a veritable treasure trove of stories!!!

So maybe they're not all successful...but they're still funny!!!

Thank you, and please keep sharing!!! Writing about one's love life = the gift that keeps on giving!!!

Veritas et Fidelis Semper

Todd said...

Love hurts huh?

staghounds said...

At least SOMEbody is interested.

Babs RN said...

HA HA HA HA...welcome to my world...

Nyx said...

The next time somebody's grandma is "dying", tell them she'll still be dead the next morning, and not to call you unless zombification becomes a concern.

Murphy said...

'It's a compliment, of sorts' was the way my buddy put it. I just figured that It was my own fault for pissin' & moanin' and not being too specific when I was talking about meeting 'somebody special'.

I can see it now, the big man upstairs listening to me gripe.
"hmm, you want something special? I got yer special right here!"

The first time it happened, I was eventually able to laugh it off. Subsequent occasions however, left me somewhat less...amused.