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Message-ID: <42574asstr$1053558607@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: writerzblocked@aol.com (Writerzblocked)
Subject: {ASSM} "Super Bowl at the Tittie Bar" WZB
Date: Wed, 21 May 2003 19:10:07 -0400
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Copyright by Writerzblocked,   2003. All rights, well, you know. Repost and 
archive to your heart's content, just don't charge anyone for it or I'll have
to send Harry Long after you. You all know the rest of the drill by now. I'm 
not big on headers and/or labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add 
whatever MF, MM, FF stuff they think is necessary.

*****************************************


SUPER BOWL AT THE TITTIE BAR


<slam>

"Hello, Mr. Gilbeaux."
"Dammit, Jack, it's BOB!"
"Oh yeah. Sorry."
"Heh, don't sweat it.  Pretty crowded already, huh?"
"Yeah.  Here's your form."
"Form?"
"For the contest."
"Oh, yeah, the shoot a hole in one for ten grand contest."
"Uh, no, it's the 'If the team returns the half-time kickoff back for a
touchdown, someone wins ten grand' contest."
"They don't teach irony in Doorman School, do they?"
"What?"
"Don't sweat it. They didn't teach it back when I went either."
"You don't have to fill out the bottom part.  Everyone here knows you."
"Heh, I guess it's good to know that five hundred dollar membership buys
something."
"Uh, yeah."
"If I pony up another five hundred for Diamond, do you remember my first name?"
"Uh, I think I've finally got that irony thing down, BOB."
"Heh, good for you. I had to go to college for it.  Anyway, it's more
impressive you can remember the last name, much less pronounce it."
"Oh that's easy.  It's topical."
"How so?"
"Rhymes with 'Bilbo.'"
"Ugh, not pretty or flattering, but worth a fiver anyway."
"Thanks, Bob.  Now THAT I learned in Doorman School."
"Heh, I bet.  Melanie said she might show for the game, even though she's not
scheduled on the floor today. There's another fiver in it if you tell her I'm
back in VIP."
"You got it."

"Hey, Bob."
"Hey yourself, Maxine."
"The usual?"
"Yeah."
"Large or small?"
"Small.  I'm headed back to VIP when the game starts."
"Oh, so THAT'S how it is, huh?  We not good enough for you out here?"
"Heh, you know better, girlfriend.  All the good spots are taken.  And it's
hard to argue with the projection TV."
"You can't fool me, mister.  You just like all those new VIP waitresses."
"Well, you know me and dancing waitstaff..."
"Yeah, I remember."
"Speaking of which, are you going to be in the contest this year?"
"Thinking of it, but it depends.  If I don't place, I make more money on the
floor."
"Yeah, but you can't get fall on your face drunk on the floor."
"You say that like it's a GOOD thing."
"Heh, it is for ME."
"One coke with no ice."
"sigh."


"You want some company?"
"Never turn it down, but I'm here for the game today. You might want to try
hustling before the game starts."
"Why?"
"Never worked Super Bowl Sunday here before, have you?"
"No."
"They turn the music off and the sound on the TVs up."
"Yeah, I know. It sucks.  But my feet hurt."
"I can sympathize.  Sapphire, right?"
"Yeah!"
"Bob."
"Pleased to meet you, Bob.  It's so cool you know my name."
"Name memory is a part of the job."
"Job?"
"Guest Service Manager at the Hilton downtown."
"Oh, that's cool."
"It's a living."
"I bet you get all sorts of rich folks down there."
"Well, their COMPANIES are rich, I guess."
"Yeah, that's what I meant."
"Yeah."
"I see you around all the time."
"Three or four nights a week."
"You're VIP, right?"
"Yeah."
"I was back there once. It was nice."
"I go back there to get away from the loud music and smoke."
"You don't smoke?"
"Uh, no."
"Is that a coke?"
"Yeah. I don't drink either."
"That's funny.  I never see you getting dances either."
"Just every so often."
"You do business back there?"
"No."
"That's strange."
"What?"
"You don't drink or get dances.  Why do you come?"
"I just like it here.  It's easy on the eyes and it gives me ideas."
"Ideas?"
"I'm a writer."
"Cool.  What do you write?"
"Stuff you wouldn't want your mother to read."
"You don't know my mother."
"Heh, I can use that one.  That's worth a drink."
"You're funny.  So where can I get these stories?"
"You have a computer?"
"No, but my mother does."
"Heh, I don't know if I like the way this conversation is going..."
"So what kind of ideas can you get at a strip club?"
"Well, when I write dirty stories, I have to describe all kinds of women and
parts of their bodies."
"Like what?"
"For instance, I call this section of the club the 'Cellulite Seats.'
"The WHAT?"
"The 'Cellulite Seats.' Every strip club has low lights so the girls look
better than they actually do. But there's always one part of every club where
the lighting screws up."
"OKAAAY."
"Well, if you sit in this section and look really closely at the girls dancing
on Stage 1..."
"Gawd!"
"See what I mean.  Butter City."
"AAAAAAGHHH!"
"Be sure to pass it on to the other girls."

"Damn, Bob, that was cold."
"Heh, saved me a drink or a dance, or both, Maxine.  Besides, I had this
feeling she was trying to set me up with her mother."


"Don't tell me, let me guess...  Cheryl, right?"
"Got it right the first time!"
"I have to confess, I cheated.  I've got them written down on a pad here."
"Them?"
"The names of all the new VIP waitresses.  You're not Janice, she's the
redhead.  Tina's the short one.  That makes you Cheryl."
"Hoookay."
"No, really.  Johnny needs to invest in some name tags."
"They're on order."
"They're ALWAYS on order."
"Well, then, you're one up on me, uh..."
"Bob."
"OK, Bob, can I get you anything?"
"Uh, yeah.  I'm expecting some friends from work, so I'm going to open a tab."
"Sure thing.  Can I get you anything to start?"
"Large coke, no ice."
"OK, but we don't have any mugs back here."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I brought it in from the main bar."
"You didn't have to do that..."
"Yeah, I know, but it saves time."
"You want to pour it too?"
"Heh, I think I'm in LOVE."
"Just don't tell my boyfriend. He's the jealous type."
"OK, here's the deal, darlin'. The more good lines you give me, the bigger your
tip."
"This some new kind of drinking game? I'm from out of town."
"Hey, that's worth a dollar."
"Uh, that wasn't a line, but I'll take it."
"Hmm, I'd better get out of here while I've still got money."

"Hiya, gorgeous, how's the tongue pin?"'
"Much better."
"I can tell.  You don't thalk like a caathoon cahactha anymore."
"Oh, STOP it, already!"
"Still green in there?"
"Aaaaaahhhhhhh."
"Cool, now your teeth have their very own nightclub disco ball."
"Stop it!"
"How's it going? It's pretty packed in here."
"Terrible.  The drinks are cheap, but no one's tipping."
"Damn kids!"
"Haha, you sound like Fred."
"Hey, you gonna be in the contest next month?"
"Not on your life."
"Oh, c'mon, Johnny got you to wear a bikini in the beer box."
"Yeah, but the top stays ON there."
"Spoil sport. I'D buy a few dances."
"Not without a ring, mister."
"Ruby, Emerald or Diamond?"
"Oh, STOP it!"
"Hey, Johnny, Paula here says she's gonna skip the contest next month."
"Hey, Bob, not a problem.  I got so many waitresses now, I'm thinking about
taking over the Dairy Queen next door."
"Better get 'em all nametags first."
"They're on order."
"They're ALWAYS on order."
"Hey, by the time they come in, half the staff's changed."
"I hear that.  Same thing happens to my guys. But our policy says they HAVE to
wear a tag, no matter if it's their name or not. The new guys grumble when the
guests call them 'Yolanda,' but that's life."
"No offense, but I've got more important things to worry about."
"Yeah, like having to fork over ten grand if by some miracle the earth shakes
and knocks over the entire defense on the kickoff return after half-time?"
"Laugh if you want, but it looks GREAT on the promotional ads, don't it?"

 
"So, Bob, where are all your friends?"
"They still have a few minutes before kickoff, but I doubt they're going to
show."
"Why not?"
"I work with a bunch of wussies."
"Wussies? hehe."
"Really.  They all talk a good game, but when I invite them over here, it's
more like 'Oh, no, it's a bunch of BEAUTIFUL WOMEN! RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!'"
"Sounds like my love life."
"Damn it, Cheryl, there's another buck I owe you. Don't you have some other
customers to tend to?"
"Do you SEE any?"
"CHA-CHING! Note to self, if you don't want to go broke, keep your mouth shut
around the tall one."
"Hey, I resemble that remark!"
"Uh, sorry, too cliche."
"Darn. But seeing as you're the only one back here, I gotta keep trying.  A
girl's gotta eat, you know."
"Weeeeeelll, if you still need the money at the end of the month, you can enter
the contest..."
"Contest?"
"The Amateur Night contest."
"Uh-oh. I don't know if I like the sound of that one."
"Hey, half the waitstaff usually enters."
"I'll have to see what it's like. I'm kind of shy."
"Shy? In THIS place?"
"Well, OK, shyER."
"They advertise three winners, but Johnny usually pays out four."
"How much?"
"$250 each, usually, for the weekly contests, with a thousand or so for the
winner of the finals."
"I dunno. Sounds like a lot of humiliation for a little money. What do you have
to do?"
"Most of the girls just wear costumes and walk around on stage and collect
dollars while Johnny does his best to embarrass them with their answers to
phony questionnaires."
"Do they have to take their tops off?"
"Uh, no, but they probably won't win if they don't. Then they can spend the
rest of the night doing lap dances for twenty bucks a pop."
"Oh, yeah, right. I can really see myself doing THAT."
"Oh, well, it was worth a try."
"Do they really make much money?"
"I can't say for sure, but I know Stormy used to pull in almost five hundred a
contest night when she worked back here."
"Wow."
"Yeah, and that's not counting finals night. She won it three out of the last
four years."
"Really?  How do they judge?"
"I don't know, really.  Johnny says it has something to do with an applause
meter, but I think they have judges stationed around the club."
"You ever been a judge."
"Me? Naw, I've got too many favorites..."
"Well, I'll THINK about it."
"Heh, yeah. I hear they're getting the VIP gals new uniforms and you'll get to
do dances back here."
"Well, let's just say only if the price is right."
"Heh, of course."
"Who do you want to win?"
"The contest?"
"No, the game."
"Being a Raiders fan, part of me hopes the Patriots get stomped, but the other
part of me thinks about the forty or so years that team has been around without
winning much of anything."
"So?  Who are you pulling for?"
"For someone to win that damned 10 grand."
"Right.  There's a better chance of me taking off my top."
"Sigh.  I think I'll walk about outside. It's getting too damned expensive in
here."
"Come back when you have more money!!!"


"Hey, Cheryl, where's Bob?"
"He was back here a few minutes ago but he said it got to expensive for him."
"Huh?"
"He says he's going to up my tip for every good line I give him."
"Good line?"
"I guess he's a writer or something. I'm not going to hold my breath."
"Hey, stranger things have happened."
"???"
"Just before Christmas, he gave cards to all the waitresses, door guys and
bartenders. DJ's and managers too."
"That's sweet."
"Yeah.  There was money inside."
"All of them?"
"Yeah.  We figure it cost him over $200."
"That's pretty strange. Must be nice to be rich."
"I don't think he is.  The door guys tell me he drives a beat-up Neon."
"Really?!" 
"Yeah. Oh, well, it takes all kinds, I guess."
"He'd been coming here a lot, but I didn't really notice him until one night
when I was stuck with Section 6.  It was dead as usual and he walked by and
stuck a fiver on my tray when my back was turned and walked away without a
word."
"Yeah, he stuck one in my jar two nights ago."
"Strange guy."
"Probably just lonely.  Still, I hope he comes back. It's DEAD in here. At
least he's someone to talk to."
"Well, he certainly does THAT."
"You got that right.  Doesn't stick around one place much either, does he?"
"Hehe.  Me and a few of the other gals have got this idea of getting an artist
friend I know to do a kind of 'Where's Waldo' set in a crowded strip club and
call it 'Where's Bob?'"
"Oh, that's FUNNY!"

"Oh, hey you."
"Hey, yourself."
"Come on down here."
"If you insist, Mr. Bob."
"Just Bob. Mind if I keep my hand here?"
"Uh, no."
"Cool. This stage is bad about electric shocks."
"I KNOW!  What's up with that?"
"It's the only one that does it.  But it gives me an excuse to keep running my
hand up and down."
"Hehehe..."
"I want to apologize."
"For what?"
"For the cellulite thing."
"Oh, THAT."
"For what its worth, darlin', YOU got NOTHING to worry about in that
department."
"Why, THANK you, Bob."
"You're very welcome. I'm leaving now, but consider this a down-payment on some
dances the next time I'm here."
"Wow! Thanks."
"My pleasure."
<smack>


"Nice to see a good Super Bowl game for a change."
"Yeah."
"I really didn't expect them to come out throwing with so little time left."
"Yeah."
"But, then, I guess they did a few things the Rams weren't expecting."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You don't watch much football, do you?"
"No.  Would you like a dance?"
"Err, maybe next time."


"Hey, Cheryl!"
"What's up?"
"Time to leave."
"Want me to close your tab?"
"Not much reason to carry it, really."
"Yeah, your credit card company would really miss that four bucks for the
coke."
"Crap! Naw, I'd just be too embarrassed to try and explain why I tipped a
twenty for the four buck coke."
"Oh, Bob, you don't have to do that."
"Don't tell ME what I don't have to do.  I KNOW they didn't send you to all
that special VIP training and forgot the part about the customer always being
right." 
"Yeah, but you really don't have to."
"And I kinda feel for you that you never got anyone else in here."
"But you REALLY don't have to."
"And you DID put up with me for two hours."
"Well, when you put it THAT way..."
"Damn, OK, here's twenty-five."
"Why?"
"Let's just say that I've been coming here for two years now and this is the
very first time anyone's made ME feel like a fucking straight man."
"Well, when you put it THAT way..."
"Ugh, I didn't actually SAY that, did I?"
"There's always the gay club down the street..."
"Of all the bartenders in this damned city, Johnny had to go and hire Groucho's
sister."


"Write what you want, how you want, and don't worry about the rest of the
world.  If you do it long enough, eventually they'll catch up."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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