Saturday, January 28, 2012

Friday night Frolics.

The Patio Bar is a juke joint inhabited by revolutionary college students and hippy kids. The decor was much like a Hollywood set depicting a Mexican bar - old posters of the city, dusty piƱatas, futbol posters, a row of red Christmas lights over the long oak bar.

Took a table in the back next to the rockola and played Aqualung by Jethro Tull as I downed a cold cerveza Sol. I was accompanied by three new friends along with Hector - Alfredo, Sarah, and the eye candy, a young kid with the strange moniker, Diamond. A bucket of beer was bought and we chilled talking, laughing, joking.

Things really got goofy when this old fart of an American tourist tried to put the make on Sarah - old geezer went as far to inquire where he could score for crack to the appalled girl. We all told Dr. Moreau - cause he looked like Marlon Brando from The Island of Dr. Moreau - to fuck off. He stumbled out muttering.

The bar closed and we staggered to a corner 24hr taco shop - after gobbling some mouthwatering tacos and an obscene amount of several Tequila Sunrises, we stumbled down to The Red Zone for young Diamond was horny and we all agreed to help him alleviate his angst.

After attempting to enter several strip joints - Diamond didn’t have his identification card on him - our night was saved by a charming hustler, who got us entrance into The Mambo Room. Despite the place being empty save for about five bewildered tourists and a gaggle of tired looking hookers - I mean strippers - the dump wasn’t half bad.

As our hustler host seated our group - Hector and I went up to the bar and retrieved a bucket of beer much to the hustler’s dismay.

"Why are you buying beer from the bar?", he bleated, "You´re cheating me out of my commission."

"You've just been fired." I stated flatly.

"What about my tip?"

"Don´t underestimate Americans." I quipped, waitering the bucket to my friends table.

Then of course we were besieged by the homeliest skanks in the place. This insolent, demanding cunt plopped down next to Diamond and ordered a fifteen dollar drink - at which we all refused to pay. So, the twat snatched a beer from the bucket and guzzled it with one hand and pawed Diamond´s throbbing crotch with the other.

Then - oh, joy - at the command of the DJ, she stood to attention, made her way to the stage and jiggled and gyrated obscenely to Woolly Bully. Diamond was fool enough to snap a dollar into her stained thong, so after she had finished shaking her nasties, the bitch slithered back to our table and began to paw at Yours Truly. I politely pushed her away (She smelled like rotten cantaloupe.) wherein, she viciously pinched the back of my neck - drawing blood. About to slap the fuck outta her, but a waiter dragged her off into the murk - the whore stumbling and wasted, cha-cha heels dragging.

Diamond was fucking horny by then and with the help of both the lurking hustler and Alfredo, they disappeared into a back room to get Diamond a bitch and "a massage with a happy ending". It being 5:30am, it was time to cut and Hector and I left for home. Walking down the streets at dusk, three Amazonian Transvestite Hookers blocked our path - soliciting their wares with obscene dramatics.

"Not now, guys!¨I croaked drunk and tired.

"Whacha mean guys?!" honked one and slapped me on the back of the head as we passed. Don't think so, girlfriend! I whirled around and popped her in the chops. At the brink of a major transvestite lucha libre smackdown, a patrol car cruised around the corner.

"Run!", hissed Hector as we bolted around the next corner, jumped in a taxi and sped home.

I really hate transvestites!

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