Thursday, September 20, 2007

Bravo Foxtrot (Blue Falcon)

Alternative titles:

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.

Why Nudie Bars are Bad

Troop Welfare, Murphy Style


One day, standing around waiting for formation, a bunch of us had noticed that Lcpl. Ware (all names changed to protect the guilty) was not his usual argumentative self. See, the good Lcpl. had been a college kid, very smart, and absolutely passionate about law, politics, history, news, primary colors, and just about everything and anything else. All it took to set him off was a minor disagreement, any conflict on any aspect of the above, and you would almost need to call in mortar fire on yourself to get him to shut up!


Seems that his and his girlfriend had called it quits, and had somewhat of a rough ending, at that. As a number of us had meet her, thought that she was a good catch, we were kind of curious. 'What happened?' inquiring minds queried, 'are you alright', others asked. Standard break up story, with a few twists. I will not go into too much detail here, but she did move on rather quickly ('bout a week and a half), and was quite happy in demonstrating her new found *ahem* freedoms. Via videotape. With her new... 'friend'. Some of the guys actually wanted to see the tape, all in the interest of commiserating with the Lcpl. and condemning the cold & heartless bitch, of course.

Right.


I took it upon myself to see if there was something that I could do to cheer him up. This would be a good example of troop welfare, for those interested in what makes the military tick.

Naturally, this involved strippers and copious amounts of liquid happiness. On second thought, probably not the ideal example of troop welfare...

Now, I -er...I mean I have heard- this theory about strip clubs. It something like 'the percentage'. In most clubs, there will be a small number of really hot strippers, perfection defined. Following them is the majority, decent looking 'ladies' that rapidly improve in appearance upon demonstration of flexibility, the amount of liquor you have sucked down, and any show of kinky skills. Then there is the last, smallest group. *shudder*

This club fit right into that theory. After a while, everyone was feeling good, and I turned to him to inquire if he needed another drink. His reply? "Yeah, she's probably getting slut-fucked right now". *Sigh* I tried to point out that there just happened to be a bunch of half-nekkid women running around all over the place, I was buying his drinks for the night, and all he could think about was the ex? This called for the heavy artillery. I called one of the girls over, inquired as to the appropriate (damn she was hot!) amount, and arranged him a little 'personal time'.

No, it wasn't that kind of 'personal time', just a lap dance in the roped off section of the club. I was trying to take his mind off of his troubles and get him happy drunk, not to have him piss fire (or worse) the next day.

By the way, why is it you need to take out a personal loan in order to by a buddy a few drinks and lap dances? I know I'm a cheap bastard, and that is why I don't usually go to those clubs in the first place. I also happen to prefer getting my frustration on in a place where I don't have to pay so much for the privilege. Apparently it is an art form to figure out how much guys are willing to pay for the privilege of a little frustration/entertainment for the next 3 minute song or so...

Weeelll, that perked him right up. He came back to the table with a huge grin on his face, sucked down another very overpriced drink, slammed it down, ordered another, and slurred to me 'Duuude, sshe likes... me!" Sure buddy. I tried to explain that she was just being friendly, but to no avail. Eventually, I let it drop because cheering him up was the whole point of the night. Hell, I even got him another dance. During his second lap dance, IT came out on the stage. [insert movie scream here]

I really hope not, but have you ever seen something so terrible, you just did not want to watch, but found yourself looking anyways? Eyes through your upraised hands, a-la-9 yrs old watching that really scary movie mortified?

My memory and descriptive skills could not do this situation any justice. Let me just say that she definitely been 'rode hard, put up wet' (bad pun intended).

She finished what passed for her stage dance, and then begun to work the crowd. As she would approach a table, all of the guys would somehow realize that they needed to use the restroom, go to the bar to get a drink, or tie their shoelaces/hide under the table. Marine loyalty be damned, I was the only one at the table when she approached (so much for never leave your buddy behind, assholes!). I was not too concerned about her trying to hit me up for a lap dance, because my funds were pretty much depleted from the course of the night.

"Hey sugar, want some of this?" Hell no! I mentally screamed. "I'm sorry ma'am, see I came here to take care of my buddy- (who was now totally smashed, convinced that he was going to score with the stripper who I had pretty much given my wallet, and staggering up to the table) I'm sure that it would be really nice (pause to swallow a little vomit), but I really don't have any more -"


You might realize that a very drunk Lcpl. Ware, having all of his many, many drinks and dances paid for by yours truly, would feel somewhat appreciative. I can understand that. I can understand 'beer goggles', having read about it somewhere, -cough, cough. I can understand him wanting to repay me for the kind gesture that I displayed.

What I will never forgive him for is taking that moment, when I was pressed up in the back of my chair, trying not to notice the yuck-mouth, cottage cheese, friggin overactive sweat glands, waaay too much junk in the trunk, lazy eye, thong about 7 sizes to tight, etc ad nauseum (heavy emphasis on the nauseum) to reach into his still full wallet, pluck out the appropriate bills, and slap them down on the table, with a resounding, drunken, "lesh get thish man a dansh, WOOO!!!!". That roughly translates to; 'why yes ma'am, I would love to provide for a few moments of your time for my buddy, here.'

The horror.

*Shudder*


He thought it was hilarious.

I couldn't decide if I needed to scrape my eyeballs out of their sockets, or attempt to stifle his chuckles with a grande bottle of tequila, administered by way of the anus.

5 comments:

Ssssteve said...

Yikes!

Snigglefrits said...

I think I need a brain squeegee right about now. I think I would have entertained my guys by taking them to Bingo night after that experience.

Deborah Aylward said...

It seems that God didn't like you very much that night!

Please tell me that at some point in your tales you come out better than this...please?


Veritas et Fidelis Semper

Johnny Law said...

Ahh the memories that story brings back. The military and stip clubs go together like peanutbutter and jelly.

Keep em coming.

Murphy said...

Ssssteve: That's what I said...

Snigglefrits: Brain Squeegee is now officially in my collection of new phrases. Har!

Deborah: God doesn't like me, that's why he handed me over to Monsier Murphy.

At birth.

Johnny: Sometimes I think we should've just gone ahead and held our formations at the nudie bars. That or set up the direct deposit to go straight there.