Kansas City Shuffle (everybody looks right, and you go left...)

Kansas City Shuffle (everybody looks right, and you go left...)

This story involves 3 long time friends. Two guys who switch between mastermind and thug when the opportunity calls upon the needed title. And the damsel in distress who has always been drawn into their madness, mostly unwilling. But her transformation from “precious moments” to “devil in a blue dress” is pure artistry when backed into the metaphorical corner. Bonnie and Clyde and Clyde.

With fifteen years since their last “encounter”, It was time to reunite the team, reminisce, and restore the name. Their last “job” together was a failure landing one in jail, the other two charged, and seven innocents also charged. Not really a brains operation on this one.

It began as just a get together with lots of drinking and bowling, then led to karaoke. As Clyde #1 laid down an excellent rendition of Beastie Boys “Paul Revere” he was interrupted by an annoying patron with a Mexican drum of sorts. The drum continued through other peoples performances with the same discontent. Then when Clyde #1 dropped Violent Femmes “Blister in the Sun” accompanied again by the drum, something had to be done. So the old team’s natural instincts took over. A Kansas City Shuffle, everybody looks right, and you go left…

Like clockwork no words were spoken. The plan filled their heads telepathically and since Clyde #2 had a bowling ball bag he would be the decoy. Bonnie would serve as the actual thief, with her long jacket. And Clyde #1 would accompany her escape out of the building and provide a getaway ride…

The karaoke DJ provided the catalyst by taking a “Now here’s a word from our sponsors” break. As the crowd thinned for bathroom breaks, Clyde # 2 scooped up the drum and his bowling bag. With a little slight of hand it was passed to Bonnie who tucked it under her arm like a football running back, and covered the evidence by hanging her jacket over the same arm. Clyde # 1 took her other arm to accompany her and “The Goods” out of the building and to the getaway car. Clyde #2 took the lead to set the bait for much needed decoy, about 20 feet ahead. As they exited the front entrance, so far so good. Now out of the building, they made way to the getaway cars when security yelled “Hey I need to see your bowling bag”. Hook, line, and sinker. As Bonnie and Clyde #1 continued their paths uninterrupted, Clyde #2 gave the performance of his life showing how appalled he was for being accused of taking a drum. Drum? What Drum? What the hell are you talking about drum? Bonnie and Clyde #1 entered the getaway car and made way to the meeting place, while Clyde #2 convinced security of his innocence…Just like old times, they never skipped a beat. Partners in crime forever…

Love you guys...

.

Lime and Tonic

Lime and Tonic

Recalling the events that led me to this moment started a year prior in which I past up the opportunity to “party” with three horny bisexual women. Then months ago when I gave up a “spirited” night with two willing female participants in a limo. And finally when a booty call was denied her tongue lashing for being a bad girl (or married). Now in all instances, I made the conscience choice not to participate (close to unconscious, in one instance). There's a point in your life where you get tired of drowning in a sea of pointless pussy (not my own line but I like it). And as it seems I've choosen to drown in Jagermeister instead...

She caught me off guard with her cliché opening. Almost desperate with a dash of evil innocence. A broken princess. And with that weak opening, I could tell she would need my assistance to close. This could be fun... I could send her yelping with her tail between her legs, or wake up between them. Maybe it was the boredom, or the self loathing, or maybe the fifth shot of Jagermeister was kicking' in, which would mean another lime and tonic chaser would be needed. I was in the mood to send her running no matter how beautiful she was. As memory served, my record holds at about one minute and fifteen seconds, in drunk math of course. Not counting the simple, “Sorry, but I'm drinking alone tonight”. This time it would be one minute flat...

And it went a little something like this... I'll skip to what I thought would be the last fifteen seconds.
Me - “So, what do you do again?”
Her - “Blah Blah Blah” (I wasn't actually listening)
Me - “Did you say your a fluffer at a mexican donkey show?”

Needless to say it wasn't my proudest moment, but I couldn't endure two more minutes with her, let alone two more hours about her cats, in the hopes that maybe just maybe we'd end up dry humping on her couch, where she would stop and explain to me that's as far as she was going. A home run in Christian baseball. The gold cross around her neck gave it away.

But to my surprise...
Her - “Please? Fluffer? I was the star of the show, not counting Mr. EDuardo, of course. There isn't nothing a little tequila won't wash out of your mouth”

I thought to myself, 'Holy Shit! I'm in love'. This girl just took one of my 'piss off' lines and threw it right back in my face, oh it's on...

I tried to ignore her while I got the bartenders attention,
Me - “Two shots of Jager, Please”.
Her - “Oh, no Jager for me thanks.”
Me - “Wasn't ordering for you. I just thought I might need to ruffie myself to continue on with this conversation. Obviously you didn't get the hint from south of the border.”
Her - “Oh, so you've given up on ruffying others, I guess I won't be the only one safe tonight. I'll call the news stations and have the amber alert turned off.”

Did I just meet my match? What can of worms did I open? At this point I was losing confidence that I could actually get her to walk away. This cannot happen. I'm normally very good at pissing people off.

Me - “Well, I guess you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but can't take the trailer park out of the girl. Let me guess, a double wide with lots of back door action. And just to clarify I am talking about your ass.”

Her - “Oh not again...You can always tell, the borderline homo's checkin' out a girl's ass to see how manly it is. Might wanna try the hole two inches away for once. You know what two inches is right?”

Ouch! Usually by now, I would have been called a prick, dick, or asshole and would have enjoyed my triumph with my german buddy in the green bottle. She was forcing me to change my strategy, or give up. So i'll jump on the logical side...

Me - “Okay, so now, you know i'm an asshole. Why are we having this conversation?”

Again she flips the script on me...

Her - “And you know, i'm a bitch. But your not pushing me away because of that. In fact, I think your getting off on it. And I haven't figured out yet if you're more amused by the ones that walk away, or intrigued by the way i'm staying one up on you at every glib remark you make. But i'm pretty sure it's the latter, so why don't you cut the shit and have a drink with me.”

Me - “Okay, so I almost put up the white flag and screamed for the medic after that spectacular piece of manipulation. And you're definitely right about the intrigue piece. But i'm not sure you understood the question, so I will rephrase. What is your underlying motive for this conversation? For even walking over here. That is if we're cutting the shit...”

I could see a small power shift in my direction, with her pause. So i barreled on.

Me - “I only ask because we all judge a book by it's cover. And our books are probably at opposite ends of the library. So your either slumming, rebounding, or genuinely interested, which I doubt. If slumming, well, nothing gets lower than your seventh shot of Jager, my little german soldier probably wouldn't be marching tonight. And if your rebounding, well, I already had my chance at a triple double (I'm sure she didn't understand, but you the reader can gather the basketball reference from the first paragraph, if it hasn't hit you yet). And not to be redundant, but genuine interest never crossed my mind.”

Winner, winner chicken dinner...As she took her first step in the opposite direction I almost felt guilty. I no longer had the urge for alcohol so I ordered a just the lime and tonic. It wasn't as refreshing as I thought it would be. A few sips later I felt a tap on my shoulder. To my surprise she did not look angry.

Her - “I would guess that your charm is not immediately appreciated by most. But I kinda liked it, up there until the end. I wish you could take that part back, as do you, I would bet. And how do I know that...Well, see that mirror across the bar. As you turned to order, what I would have thought to be another shot of Jager, I also turned. I watched the guilt on your face in the mirror, up until the bartender brought you the lime and tonic. After the first sip, it turned back to the self loathing I noticed earlier. And maybe if you would have noticed what I was drinking, lime and tonic, you would have realized that I was genuinely interested. Two lonely people drinking the same drink, minus the Jager of course, was enough motive, asshole.”

Wow, no more Jager for me...

~S