It has been about 12 hours since I got home last night and I have very mixed emotions. The whole evening was one of truly wild craziness, and Neighbor Bob is probably still shitting little green apples. He’s a pretty straight, solid family type.
When we got home, the 45 YO Registered Nurse next door had LEOs in her yard. The LEOs waved us over and we had to deny just about everything from breathing to conspiring committing long hair. I think I managed to get off the hook by admitting that I was D.B. Cooper. Whatever. As Richard Nixon said, “Deny it, even if they have pictures.”
This was not one of the local LEOs that I knew, and conspiracy to do serious bodily harm is not to be laughed at. Still, with no rehearsal, the RN and I managed to deny everything.
Earlier that night I had loaned her my chain saw as a tool to run some asshole off with whose dog was using the neighborhood lawns as a toilet. Apparently, she had chased the asshole down the street, babbling incoherently giving the dirty bastard a greater fear than that rank amateur by the name of Charles Manson was capable of on the best day of his life.
Idiot had called the cops.
After a series of dubious looks, the LEO left. Connie invited us in for a drink and an after action report. Bob, being very polite, did something totally out of character. And why not? The whole night was a Total Zoo. And it was only about 8:45 PM. Time to go out and do some serious drinking. Delayed stress was on the way. All three of us were shaking like dogs shitting peach pits.
We barged into Connie’s and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Bob grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on, a bottle of rum and poured about six ounces down this throat. Connie stared. This was not like Bob at all. I polished off about 2 and ½ inches of Irish Whisky from the last of a jug of Jameson’s. She didn’t bat an eye. She also didn’t bat an eye when I opened her refrigerator and whipped out a knife and cut off a chunk of meat for kitty, who had been in the middle of the ruckus.
She’d seen it before. More than once. She’s been one hell of a neighbor, and is a damned good holistic nurse to boot. She knows Mrs. Pic doesn’t serve red meat and she has had me over for a steak dinner more than once.
And no, I ain’t hitting it.
She also displayed her ability to do the right thing once more; she handed us beers.
We were both still shaking. So was she.
I tossed the empty jug out and Connie told us about chasing the damned dog owner down the street with my chain saw, cursing loudly. About this time, the pair of neighbors from across the street knocked on the door and entered. Don and Dawn, Fred and Lois. Lois immediately asked if they could borrow my chain saw. I agreed.
Connie handed me back my .38. It was unfired. I checked. Thank God.
I also went into Connie’s garage and felt the chainsaw. It was a bit warm. It had been run. I brought it up and handed it to Lois. Lois is pretty competent; she grew up on a farm.
Visions of Lois chasing the owner of the Phantom Crapper Dog down the street did not bother me one bit. She has a pretty good head. I offered her the .38, and she refused.
“I got a .45,” she said. “Empty the litter box since you emptied on his yard?”
I stared. Word was out. “Today was trash day,” I said.
“Where the hell were you two, “ asked Connie.
“Out,” I said. Bob and I got up and headed to my house. Bob went straight to the reefer and grabbed each of us a beer.
Where had we been?
We had been to the porn shop with the Seeing Eye Cat.
We pulled in driving Bob’s truck. Bob held my arm and I had kitty on my leash and had my white cane and sunglasses on and in we went. This place is the epitome of a dirty bookstore, with peep shows for all types, all types of porn for every taste. The place draws weirdoes like a magnet, and here we were.
Once inside I stumbled around like Ray Charles. Bob took one look and realized he was out of his league. For certain, this place was weird.
It was also packed. The place reminded me of the song Dr Hook recorded years ago about ‘Freaking at the Freakers Ball’, or some such shit. There was a couple there, he was about 20, and she was in her mid 40s. They bore a strong family resemblance. Mother and son? I really wondered. This place was scary.
But not really weird enough for me. At least I won’t admit it. There’s really nothing here to hurt you, but this place is truly strange.
Bob adjusted and started looking around. The woman behind the counter was a beefy bleached blonde with enormous tits that looked like she could beat the holy hell out of the pair of us before breakfast. She was to be feared. I think she had been the onetime rough and tumble Madame of a whorehouse that had been closed down by the state police a while back. She sure looked tough enough.
I remembered her from when I had bought something there for a bachelor party about four years ago.
I managed to halfway fool the woman, but she appeared skeptical about whether the cat really was a guide animal. She said nothing. In fact, she seemed amused. Some scabby-faced guy mumbled something about being allergic to cats.
Bob said to him simply, “There are 50,000 carry permits in Allegheny County.”
“You packing? “ he asks.
“No, I’m criminally disabled for hacking up as asshole that gave a pal of mine shit once,” he said.
“Then you ain’t carryin.’”
“No, but HE lives in Allegheny county,” he said, nodding to me.
“But he’s blind.”
“He ain’t criminally disabled,” said Bob. “ All he’d have to do is pass it to me. Blind people with Seeing eye Cats carry to protect themselves from Seeing Eye Dogs.”
“Stay away from him,” said the beefy blonde. “he’s a guide animal.” She was laughing her ass off.
He wandered off. He looked kind of shaken up.
Next thing, Bob, whose curiosity overwhelmed him, opened a box that held a 16” warty dildo and held it up. “You gotta be kidding,” he said. The beefy blonde gave him a dirty look.
“You’re not supposed to open boxes,” she said.
“It was already opened,” he said.
Kitty obviously wanted to leave.
“Give it here,” I said.
I felt my way down the leash and held the dildo under kitty’s nose. The plastic aroma made kitty snort.
“It’s been used,” I said. “Cat’s sure got a better nose than I do!”
“Someone oughta call the Board of Health,” said Scabby-face, indignantly. “That can spread disease!”
The blonde instantly threw all four of us out, Scabby face, Bob, Kitty and I. All four of us, out the door. Scabby Face hit the bricks fast. He was gone in an instant with a look of fear in his eyes.
We both laughed. A first for both of us. Kicked out of a porno shop! Weird, but not totally.
It was the parking lot that got totally strange.
Some wholesome, clean-cut guy came up to me. About 20 feet behind him was a woman dressed in an outfit that would make a stripper blush. I looked over his shoulder, appearing to be blind to him, but my eyes were popping out of the sockets.
She was in the tightest little black dress I’d ever seen, fishnets, spikes, false eyelashes and fingernails. I think the dress was actually an undergarment made to flatten a woman out. She was pouring out of it, and there was one hell of a lot to pour out!
The guy seemed pretty unsure of himself, and somewhat embarrassed.
“My wife has a fantasy,” he said. “To be pimped out. It’s gone on ever since she had a breast augmentation.”
“She says one time and it’ll get out of her system.”
I felt bad for the poor bastard. On the other hand, she made me pretty damned hard!
“Fifty bucks,” he said. “she’s yours.”
“Has she ever lost a child?” I asked.
“How’d you know? A couple years ago,” he said.
“Counseling,” I said. “Take her to counseling .Same thing happened to a pal several years ago. They got lucky and worked it out. Know another guy. Same thing, only he didn’t get lucky. Once wasn’t enough, she became a whore and last I heard, died of an O.D.”
“Fifty bucks’ll get you anything,” she said. She hadn’t heard her husband and I.
I grinned and pulled out my wallet.
“Don’t have fifty,” I said.
Bob hadn’t heard hubby and I, but he heard her.
“Hey, Pic, if you need money, I got some,” he said.
I gave him a dirty look, and he picked up on it. Thank God. Visions of babbling my way out of this were clouding my brain. The woman was HOT. Hotter than the 20 year old sandwich shop clerk, and the sandwich shop clerk had been dressed and designed by a professional drag queen. Ain’t NOTHING hotter than a woman that’s been dressed and made up by a drag queen! Most of them look pretty good, and when you got a drag queen designing the real thing, got good materiel to work with, things give the word ‘hot’ a new dimension. She was hotter than the 20 year old chick!
“Only got ten,” he said.
Kitty pulled on the leash and we wandered off to Bob’s truck. Praise be to God.
Behind us, the guy was stuffing his wife into the family car, and off they went. She looked pretty disappointed, but off they went.
The beefy blonde looked out the door, so Bob and I grabbed kitty and we hopped into Bob’s truck and left.
I already told you about what we came home to.