The Time I Drove Around with a Dildo Strapped to my Car
Below is an excerpt from my book — a mostly true story about my days as a strip club bartender in Austin, Texas where I mostly broke shit, drank a ton of booze, sometimes poured drinks, and always hit on my favorite manager.
“That’ll be $3.53,” the black box informed me.
“Ernie, what the hell is going on? Bacon egg and cheese biscuits are $3.42!” I complained as I pulled up to the drive-thru window where he resided during business hours.
Even though I will most likely never work at a McDonald’s, I must admit Ernie had the fucking set up. I would love to work in a room confined by myself all day. He doesn’t even really have to talk to people. If I had Ernie’s job, I would probably pretend to be deaf and not know sign language. Not to mention, the man gets an unlimited supply of ice cream. Nevermind that it’s theft.
“I know. I noticed earlier when I rang one up. I thought “OoOoOohh Forest gone be maaaad today!” Ernie took my cash and awarded me with a receipt and change. “I don’t know why they changed it though. Sorry, Forest,” he apologized.
“It’s okay, Ernie. I know it’s not your fault. It’s fucking Norma’s fault, like always.”
When I got to work, it dawned on me that I had forgotten to buy Thomas breakfast. I had been distracted by the biscuit price markup. He walked by me as I chowed down.
“Look, I have something awful to tell you,” I said in a very serious tone of voice.
“What is it?” His face fell.
“Norma forgot your biscuit.”
“Geez. How does she still have a job?”
“I ask myself that question every day.” I dramatically rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“Yo!” the door girl walked up to me laughing. “When are you gonna take that shit off your car?”
“What?” I asked her as I remembered on my way to work this morning some guy on the highway was waving me down, trying to get my attention. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up, figuring I had a tail light out or something and would have Thomas check it out when I got to work.
I went outside to inspect my car and when I walked around behind the back of it, I discovered a pink rubber dildo was securely fastened to a rope that was tied around the trailer hitch.
So basically for an uncertain amount of time, I was driving around town with a pink penis dragging around behind me.
Fucking Lou, that rascal.
When he trotted into the club around noon, we shared a good laugh over his clever and successfully executed prank.
A few hours later, I heard classical music playing and discovered it was coming from a Bluetooth speaker that was sitting on the bar in front of Lou. With his eyes closed, he danced and hummed along to the music.
I guess he was over listening to the same twenty EDM songs the club played and decided to take matters into his own hands. I can’t say I blamed him. Without warning, he lit up a cigar and took a puff.
From time to time, I’ve had to stop people from lighting a cigarette in the club. I’ll just say something like, “Yo! Can’t smoke in here!” and let them know where the smoking patio is. With Lou, I didn’t care. This was hilarious. He looked so cheerful as he thumped along to the music and puffed his cigar so I just let him be.
A few minutes later, Thomas walked up and said he smelled smoke. I couldn’t keep a straight face and it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to figure out where it was coming from.
“Lou!” he walked over to Lou who was now trying to conceal the cigar by holding it in his lap underneath the bar top. “Are you smoking in here?”
“No.”
“I can smell smoke.” Lou turned up the volume on his Bluetooth speaker and went back to enjoying his music.
Almost immediately, Thomas turned the volume back down. “I can see it in your lap, Lou. Come on, man.” Lou was a troublemaker but this time he cooperated and promptly put out the cigar. “And the music,” Thomas added.
“After this song is over.”
“Fine.” Thomas gave in.
“So, guys,” I said to everyone collectively at the bar as I unloaded the dishwasher and stacked the clean glasses back on their respective shelves. “I need a roommate.”
“I think Morgan is looking for a roommate,” Maddog informed me.
“Whose Morgan?”
“Cocaine necklace,” Stella piped up.
“Ohhh. Hmm …” I nodded to myself as I processed the idea.
My conversation with Thomas about it at the end of the shift went something like this:
“You know she’s on probation right?”
“No. How would I know that?”
“Everybody knows that.”
“So, she probably got a couple DUI’s. She’s not Hannibal Lecter.”
“She’s on probation and wears a locket necklace with cocaine in it.”
“It’ll be alright.”