“I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.” – Mark Twain
WARNING: THIS STORY DOESN’T REALLY GO ANYWHERE
I worked at a phosphate mine in northeast Manatee County (near Ona for those who want to Google Map it), which is very much the middle of nowhere. One afternoon the plant foreman and I went to play golf at this shitty course near the mine. It wasn’t in good shape, but was cheap, close to work and never crowded so we could get a full 18 in before dark.
After we’re done he told me that he’s supposed to meet his cousin at some bar nearby that I’ve never heard of. He’s leaving on vacation the next day, but I’ve got to be at work at 7:00, so I agree to go have one drink with him. It looks just like a stereotypical rural bar should look like: cinder block walls, tin roof and no windows with a few motorcycles and trucks parked out front.
We got inside and his cousin came over to greet us along with some of his friends. The boy and his friends looked a little off, not serial killer dangerous, just kind of awkward and creepy. I have my one beer and try to excuse myself, but the cousin wants to buy a round. Then his friends want to buy rounds. I stay for another, then another and another. About this time I noticed a big Bud Poster on the wall with a couple of hot girls on it. It said at the top “Come See The Bud Girls Here.” My first thought was why would they bring two hot girls to this place? It’s a shit hole filled with a bunch of run down rednecks that are going to drink Bud anyway. On the bottom of the poster it had spaces labeled Date and Time. It just happened that the date was today’s date and the time was almost now. I pointed this out to the other guys and the cousin got real excited and said, “Why do you think I wanted to meet ya’ll here tonight?” The guy planned his night around seeing some Bud Girls at a dive bar an hour away from anything you would call a city.
A few minutes later a guy in a Bud polo shirt walks in followed by two women in short shorts and Bud tank tops (they did not look like the women on the poster). Behind them is a man the size of a truck. One girl was a white trash swamp donkey with an ass the size of a mini-fridge and would require being BO drunk (or Nova, which might be synonymous) to fuck. The other was a Wauchula 8, which is probably a Boston 6. Skinny with pushup bra making the T’s look pretty good, not pretty, not ugly, but both of these girls were obviously benchwarmers on the JV team of Bud promotions. Regardless, every guy was eye fucking them, since they were the only women in the bar.
The Bud rep started giving the owner a bunch of cozies, key chains and other shit to hand out. The two girls were standing very close to their bodyguard and looking around the room like they’ve made a very bad career choice.
The rep went back over to the girls and probably told them to earn their $50 and go mingle. The two girls walked toward the crowd like ice fishermen testing the thickness of the lake ice in the early part of winter. As they waded into the crowd with fake smiles on their faces they both looked in my direction and immediately headed over. I’m not bragging here, it’s just that I was the only guy in the place that looked like he graduated high school and hadn’t done felony time for rape.
We started talking to the girls and they started fake flirting. Immediately the cousin stepped in front of the ugly girl, boxing her out, and just stood next to the better looking one, staring at the side of her head. After an uncomfortable silence the ugly one walked off. I continued talking and made some jokes about having to come way out to this bar and asked the girl where they had to drive from to get here. She said they came down from Lakeland, which is about an hour away. The cousin suddenly blurted out that he’s from Lakeland. Then he told her where he worked, what street he lived on and that he didn’t have a girlfriend right now and then asked her where she lived in Lakeland. He said all of these things without pausing. She looked terrified. I asked him to go grab us a couple more beers. After he left I apologized to the girl and stopped flirting with her because I didn’t come across like a psychopath. The cousin walked back over and she left saying that she had to mingle, but would say goodbye before she left.
At this point I’m pretty fucked up, so I make the smart decision to stay and drink more. After a few more beers I saw the two Bud girls and the rep head for the door. With drunken bravado I yelled across the bar, you’re leaving without saying goodbye? The better looking girl walked over, gave me a hug and a little kiss. Then she turned around and left. The cousin and his friends looked pretty bewildered, like I had just banged peak Scar Jo right in front of them. For one night I was king of the redneck dorks. I finished my beer and left.
Postscript: I drove home very drunk and got lost several times. I don’t think I got more than a few hours of sleep. I woke up with a massive hangover and before work celebrated to a woman way hotter than either of the Bud Girls from the night before (probably Pam Anderson, Cindy Crawford or Alicia Silverstone), which seemed to ease the hangover.
tl;dr Goose did not get laid, again.
Hall of Sand, Class of 2025
Balls: I know a guy who came home after high school one day to over hear his mom and dad having a 3some with another lady. He actually went to beat off during it in his room.
mister bacon: Wow no wonder PJ is so fucked up.