I sat between Corby and the quiet Native babe when three broads came in, a native chick, a blond and a brunette. Behind them came a Native girl pushing her mother in a wheel chair, who sang over her mother, who held a Coors light in her hand, “The friends are all here—together again, beer and cheer!”
It was about 7:30 P.M.
The quiet one said, “Here come The Crazies.”
Corby said in his deep gravel tone, “You got that right.”
They were all nice ladies, bar flies for lo these thirty years and fast friends.
Noting the increased danger of their home town they compared mace arsenals from their purses.
They asked after me, naming me “Patches” wondering about my driving around the nation.
I said, “I don’t drive.”
Corby said, “He flies, are you crazy?”
I said, “Oh, I don’t fly. I take the train.”
The brunette said, “That’s some James Bond shit.”
Corby asked, “So you’re packing?” and makes a gun draw motion.
I said, “No,” and he shook his head and said, “That’s just nuts, with all these tweakers crowding around the train stations. Oh, hell no—I’m packing until they pack me off.”
The brunette then said, “Patches, want to play a game?”
I sat back and nodded as she crowded up to the bar and laid out a penny and asked, “Do you see any money?”
“Yes, a penny.”
A second penny was laid out, “Do you see any fruit?”
“No.”
“Yes you do, a pear.”
A third penny was laid out, “Do you see a poker hand?”
“No.”
“Yes you do, three of a kind.”
“Okay—I’m getting it.”
A fourth penny was laid out, “Do you see a snake?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re handsome enough to get away with being slow—it’s a copperhead.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” she said as a fifth penny was laid out and she asked, “Do you see any pussy?”
“No,” I answered.
And she congratulated me with a pat on the back and said, “That’s right, and you’re not going to for only five cents!”
Laughter arose from the corner of the bar and the entertainer rolled up her left shirt sleeve to expose the life size tattoo of an erect penis that had just ejaculated. She pinched her upper arm and said, “I can make him fat,” then stretched her upper arm and said, “or I can have him long,” and then wrinkled her arm and rubbed it around and commented, “or I can rub him in to condition my skin!”
My mouth opened as the girls laughed and Corby shook his head.
She then said, “Do you want to see my eyes?”
“Don’t call her bluff,” said someone. “This could be terrible.”
Always a chump, I said, “Sure, okay.”
She then turned to face the back door, bent over, and pulled down her jeans to reveal that her butt was tattooed with two all seeing eyes and I blurted, “Well, there’s no sneaking up on you.”
She pulled up her pants and jiggled back into them and agreed, “Yeah, I thought it would come in handy if I did any time.”
I ordered some microwave meatballs and the women looked on in disgust and the blond said, “That’s terrible. We should have brought him some Chinese.”
To this the brunette pointed to the barmaid, who batted her expressive eyes over her mask in comic seduction as the brunette said, “There’s some Chinese for you right there, Patches! Bon appetite!”
I must think, that in the past, that the women who followed armies through most of history, stoked the cook fires, tended the wounded and did the laundry, must have been made of such humorous stuff.
