Ol' Marshall Dillon and Miss Kitty sat and talked to each other for twenty years and he never so much as got a peck on the cheek. He seemed happy with the way things were...I figure because every now and then on a Saturday night he snuck over to a saloon on the other side of town and caught a dance or two with a few saloon girls. As 'Should Have Been A Cowboy' blared over the speakers above the dance floor, I found my mind wandering. Jacy Morrow and I were like Miss Kitty and Marshall Dillon...just talk, no action. And thus, here I sat, in a bar on a Saturday night hoping for a dance with a saloon girl or two.
It was that backwoods Kentucky accent that caught my attention. I glanced over at the table next to me.
"I can't believe you ain't gonna dance with me!" her head turned toward me, wild eyes gleaming in the neon lights, "Mister, do you dance?"
"Well, yes I do." I cautiously responded.
"Then get your ass up and dance with me!"
She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dance floor. Beneath the dancing neon lights, she looked fairly decent, mid-forties I guessed but her face told of a hard life.
"What about your man over there?" I asked, giving her a spin on the dance floor.
"Oh, he ain't my man. He's my neighbor. My man's dead. Hells Angels killed him ten years ago."
I digested that tidbit of information as the song ended and we headed back toward our tables. The neighbor stood in the dim light, his arms crossed.
"I think I'm going to head out. She's all your's now buddy. Have fun!"
"Well, thanks for nothin'," she retorted as she moved an oversized purse over to my table."
And that was that. She was all mine for the night. I motioned toward the dance floor and she took my hand and followed.
"What's your name?" I asked, peering into near black eyes."
"Bonnie, but everyone calls me the Black Widow...she pronounced it 'widder.' That's 'cause everyone I meet winds up dead."
"So, do you have kids?" I asked.
"Yep, thirteen...five of 'ems dead, though. Don't know where the rest of 'em are."
The song ended and I walked her back to the table. She scooted a chair up right beside me.
"I'm forty-six...don't look that old, huh?" She took a swallow of her beer, "I look pretty good with my clothes on...but after thirteen kids, my belly looks like bubble wrap."
With that, she hiked her strapless silky black blouse up higher than she should have and tucked it under her chin. She grabbed the skin of her abdomen and began playing with it as if it were Play-do.
"See, I just have to fold it up and cram it in my britches. I got some pretty good lookin' legs and my ass ain't half bad. I'll show ya later."
I looked her in the eye..."Umm-humm...so, what do you do...you know, a job?"
She shook her head, "Oh, I can't work. I got shot in the leg a few years back. I used to work for the FBI."
I snickered..." and what did you do for them?"
"Oh, I snitched...I knew where to find all the people they were looking for...hey, I still got handcuffs."
She reached under the table and dug around in her purse for quite some time then plopped a pair of handcuffs on the table.
"Pick 'em up...feel how heavy they are."
I hefted the cuffs...they were indeed well built...and may have been lifted right out of Marshall Dillon's jail...they were that old.
"So, do you have the keys to these."
"Naw, I lost 'em somewhere."
She reached back into her purse and produced a large butcher knife, laying it on the table. I was beginning to feel a bit uneasy.
She continued to tell her stories. "I been in prison three times...got stabbed in my right thigh. Got in a fight over someone trying to take my woman..."
She was still rambling on about her prison experiences. I found my mind wandering off...I wish Miss Kitty were here...I wouldn't be caught up with this phycho woman. WWMD do? (what would Marchall Dillon do...) I knew there was no way I was stepping out of this bar with this chick...let alone take her home...let alone...I shuddered as I pictured myself in handcuffs with this crazy person standing over me holding a butcher knife.
"Because everyone I meet winds up dead..." echoed in my ears.
"So, are we gonna dance some more or you just wanna take me back to your place and do the dirty? 'Cause I'm good with either or. That is what folks come to bars for, right? Those are your two options."
The Black Widow took my hand and shoved it into her crotch, her bony upper body rubbing against my arm. Before I could pull away her tongue found the back of my throat. I withered in fear as my eyes focused on her other hand gently caressing the butcher knife on the table between us.
"Hey, listen...I have to go. It's a long ways back home, forty...I mean, a hundred miles."
I lurched from the table, her hand still maintaining a firm grip.
"Well, I don't mind coming home with ya!"
"No! No! I am...not available!" I almost shouted as I pulled my hand free.
I dashed through the crowded bar, seemingly in slow motion, finally reaching the front door. I fumbled for my keys, unlocking my pickup, and dove inside. The key struggled to find the ignition. And then there was a tap on the glass.
My eyes widened in fear as I stared at the Black Widow standing outside my pickup, butcher knife raised. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she spoke.
"You never even told me your name, cowboy!"
As I stammered my reply the glass shattered, handcuffs walloping my skull. Through blurry eyes, I saw the flash of the knife as it made its way toward my chest...
I lurched into an upright position as the ringing of my cell phone brought me back to safety. My heart pounded in my chest as sweat dripped from my forehead.
"I just wanted to wish you a Happy Halloween! You sound out of breath! Have you been doing the dirty?"
"No I...uh, dozed off watching a scary movie. I'm really glad you called!"
"Ahh, what a sweet thing to say. Hey...you're not scared out there all alone on Halloween night, are ya?"
Regaining my composure, I couldn't help but smile.
"Why? Are you going to come out and keep me company?"
That's my Miss Kitty!
Caution: This article contains sexually suggestive material. Continued from last week's story 'Dirty Dancing'
She answered the door wearing a black sports bra, a pair of really short red shorts, and a red Texas Tech ball cap perched on her blonde head.
"Hiiieee! Oh, Rusty, I am so excited you're here! I've been cooking a Yankee pot roast all day..."
Jenny paused to catch a breath and then spontaneously grabbed my shirt, pulling me into her puckered lips. Her tongue tickled the roof of my mouth as she moaned, finally breaking away, throwing her head back as she uttered an almost inaudible groan.
"Ever since last night I've been so worked up! You really know how to ring a girl's bell, cowboy!"
"I had a super time dancing with you last night, Jenny. It was...you know...wow!"
She giggled as she took my hand and led me into the living room.
"Supper will be awhile. Texas Tech is playing Oklahoma. You sit down and watch the game and I'll get us a beer."
My eyes darted around the large living room, stylishly decorated. An overstuffed leather couch sat in the center of the room facing the largest television I'd ever seen. As Jenny trotted off toward the kitchen, I quickly became engrossed in the football game.
I was vaguely aware she had entered the room as the Red Raiders made their third touchdown. Her arm appeared from behind me, a cold beer in her hand. I took the beer without taking my eyes off the TV, and then a leg swung over the back or the couch, and just as Oklahoma began a fifty-yard run, she plopped down hard in my lap.
"Hey, I can't see the game," I protested as my eyes focused on the two things blocking my view. My heart rate kicked into overdrive as I realized Jenny was totally naked.
"You just peek over my shoulder at that TV while I give you a lap dance, cowboy."
Well, it wasn't that great of a game anyway and within minutes we found ourselves in her bedroom, then under the sheets, then on top of the sheets, then sheets in the floor. Grabbing, groping, pinching, ouch...biting...okay, enough of that. Down to business.
When it comes to that point, we men are on a mission. Women may think we only operate with a small part of our body, but us guys are all aware that from this point forward our entire body must work as a team to succeed in our mission. So, that moment had arrived...it was time 'TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE...well, this guy had never gone before.
(Star Trek theme plays briefly)
Captain Kirk: "Mr. Sulu, take us into the black hole."
Sulu: "Aye, Captain...entering now."
Spock: "Captain, our sensors indicate we have entered a black hole of far greater dimensions than has ever been discovered."
Kirk: "Proceed with caution Mr. Sulu. It is our mission to discover new galaxies."
Spock: "Captain, sensors show no end to this hole, furthermore they are unable to detect the sides of the black hole. This is, without a doubt, the largest black hole in the universe."
Captain: "Scottie, ahead full thrust."
Scottie: "Aye, captain, but we are unable to make any headway."
Spock: "Captain, sensors have discovered debris ahead. Our database shows it to be a 1969 Ford Mustang...there are human remains inside."
Kirk: "Scottie, take us to warp speed."
Scottie: "She's givin' us all she's got, captain...we're losin' power fast!"
Kirk: "Sulu, fire photon torpedoes dead ahead."
Sulu: "Captain, unable to fire torpedoes...we've lost power."
Spock: "Captain, it is illogical to proceed...we must abort the mission."
Scottie: "Captain, we're breakin' up!"
Kirk: "Beam me up, Scottie...!"
(The next day)
I grumbled as I popped the trigger of the gas nozzle, "I never can stop on twenty even!"
Trudging across the parking lot toward the convenience store, my troubled mind continued to thrash the events of the night before as it had all day. A bell jingled as I entered the store and my eyes locked on a fine hiney that could only belong to Jacy Marrow. She turned her head toward me, her blonde ponytail almost swishing, as she paused her chore of shining the chrome on the burrito warmer. A look of disgust came into her eyes.
"Well, how was it?"
"How was what?" I responded with irritation. All I wanted was a Dr. Pepper, not the third degree from Jacy.
"How was last night? You know, the sex."
"Annoyed, I grunted, "It's none of your business. What makes you think I had sex?"
She stepped toward me, pushing my hat back.
"Because it's written all over your forehead," her finger poking my forehead, "it says, 'I had sex last night..."
She squinted her eyes and drew her face closer, her nose almost touching mine.
"...'with some tramp named'...what's her name? It's smudged." Her fingernail raked across my forehead as she pulled herself away, "So...how was it?"
I sighed heavily and looked down at the floor, "Worst I ever had, actually."
A gleam came into her eyes, "Well Rusty, men your age often experience premature ejact..."
"That's not it!" I loudly protested, clenching my teeth.
"You didn't ring her bell," she nodded to reaffirm her statement, "I've often wondered that if you and I ever do date, if that could...well, regardless of what they say, size does matter.
I felt the blood boil into my eyeballs."
Just as I opened my mouth, an elderly woman entered the store. I bit my lip and pulled Jacy's face against my cheek, whispering in her ear. She pulled away, wide-eyed.
"You mean they're not all the same?" she stammered.
I shook my head like a wet dog.
"Oh my," she held her hand against her chest, "I never knew. Like I need something else to add to my list of insecurities."
"Miss, I'm ready to pay for my milk!" The old lady tapped her cane impatiently.
I stood behind the woman and as she turned and headed for the door, I pointed to the soda machine.
"I just need a Dr. Pepper."
Okay, what size?" Jacy struggled to focus, still reeling from her new found knowledge.
"Small." I retorted, squinting my eyes.
"Sure you don't want a large?"
"Small! I like them small! Give me two of 'em!"
Yet again I sat alone at a table for two beneath the neon lights on a Saturday night sipping a Coors Light. I sighed and lowered my head, the brim of my Stetson casting a shadow over my beer. I could be sitting on a Mexican beach with Psycho Sherry sipping tequila sunrises, but no, here I was in a smokey bar drinking overpriced beer and staring at couples sitting around me, holding hands and making steamy midnight plans. Perhaps I was a bit sexually frustrated, I reasoned. I peeled the label from my beer bottle as I realized I couldn't even remember the last time...my eyes caught sight of her sitting at a table at the far corner of the dance floor.
"Hey, come dance with me!"
She turned her attention from the crowded dance floor and peered into my eyes.
"Oh, I don't cowboy dance."
I detected a foreign accent in her voice, likely a northern girl I decided.
"You don't or you can't?" I grinned and drew myself closer.
"I can't scoot boots with you Texans. Just can't get the hang of it." she fidgeted with a silver heart necklace that dangled in the crevice of her cleavage.
She stared hard at my face, sizing me up.
"Tell you what, cowboy...why don't you sit down and buy me a drink and tell me about yourself. If they play some rock music later and I have a pretty good buzz going, I'll dance with you. Might even dirty dance! Do you know how to dirty dance?"
How hard could that be, I thought to myself. Two people just writhe on the dance floor, much like they would under the covers. A fleeting thought flashed through my little brain...like I need all that with nowhere to go with it.
As the girl who called herself Jenny downed her fifth margarita, 'Barracuda' blasted over the speakers. Jenny leaped from the table and pulled me onto the dance floor. How hard could this be, I repeated to myself as she grinded her fine little hiney into my groin? My sixth sense told me to drape my arms around her waist and hang on for the ride and it'd be alright. My sixth sense proved itself correct as song after song bashed through my head, the sexy blonde literally rocking my world to the music. With neon gone wild above my head and strobe lights blinding my senses, my good senses anyway, I found myself intoxicated with the firm, perfectly molded body that writhed against me. This had to be a dream. Life doesn't get this good, not for an old cowboy like me.
It seemed the night had only begun when they turned the lights on and told us to go home. Hand in hand Jenny and I walked off the dance floor.
"Wow, just wow!" her eyes sparkled as she embraced me, her hands grabbing my butt.
"Are you going to be okay driving home?" I asked, "I don't mind driving you if you're afraid to get out on the streets."
"Do you want to take me home?" she failed at suppressing a grin as her eyes gleamed.
Jenny directed me into the nicer part of the city, my pickup finally pulling into a driveway of what I estimated to be a quarter million dollar home. At her invitation, I followed her inside. She grabbed two beers out of the fridge and took my hand.
"Let's sit out in the backyard. It's a beautiful night! Oh, and by the way, just to get this clear up front...you're not sleeping with me tonight."
"Oh!" My eyes widened in shock at her honesty, "I'd never...heck, you'd probably scare me off if you came onto me!"
"Um-hum," she rolled her eyes and giggled.
For the next two hours, we sat and drank beer and talked about ourselves. Jenny seemed like a nice girl. What she was doing living in that big house all alone, I hadn't a clue. But the girl could dirty dance and I be lying to myself if I didn't admit she was a looker.
I glanced at my watch somewhere in the midst of the conversation.
"Oh! It's three thirty in the morning! I should hit the road. I have forty miles to go before I get home. Say, your car is up at the bar. Do you need me to take you over there tomorrow?"
"I'll tell you what...why don't you come over tomorrow evening. I'll make you a home-cooked meal. I bet a single guy like yourself doesn't get too many of those. After dinner, you can take me to my car. Deal?"
I embraced her tightly and kissed her passionately.
"Oh wow! Oh wow!" I can't believe you kissed me like that!
I was in the middle of the sweetest dream when my phone jarred my numb mind into semi-consciousness. I reluctantly answered it.
"It's not even eight o'clock and I've already had two... TWO people come into the store telling me about you making a spectacle of yourself last night. I want the story straight from you!"
"Who is this? Jacy? It's not even eight o'clock. Why are you calling me? You never call me."
"I already told you it's not even eight o'clock! I hear you basically had sexual intercourse on the dance floor with hundreds of people watching. Is this true?"
"Oh...yeah...uh, no!" I sat up in bed rubbing my head.
"Rusty?" came that sinister tone over the phone.
"Jacy, why do you care? It's none of your business anyway."
"My lord, dirty dancing? You? Seriously?"
"Well, Jenny didn't seem to have a problem with how I dirty danced!" I retorted.
"Ah, the blonde tramp's name is Jenny, not Baby? You ain't no Patrick Swayze!"
I tuned Jacy out as I stepped across the room, picking up last night's shirt lying on a chair, and stared at the makeup blotched across the collar. I sniffed the sweetness of perfume and in my head the song played..."(I've Had) The Time of My Life"
With a little practice, I could dance like Patrick Swayze!
My eyes fixated on one raindrop trickling its way down the plate glass window, oblivious to the drenching downpour just beyond. Nervous. Yes, I admitted to myself I was as I sipped on the steaming hot cappuccino. The last time I'd seen her, ten years ago or more, had come to an abrupt ending with her hand landing soundly across my face, dropping me to the floor. Whatever had possessed me to make contact again? My mind searched for the answer as the raindrop vanished out of sight at the bottom of the window.
As I stared at the cup in front of me, my senses alerted me she had arrived.
My attention was drawn to those long legs as she entered the coffee shop. As my eyes ventured upward, a clear raincoat covered a short black dress...I knew those legs. With a pounding in my chest, I raised my eyes and peered into the greenest eyes...I knew those eyes.
"Sherry!" I exclaimed as I rose suddenly from the table and quickly stepped toward her.
"Hello, Rusty." she replied with the faintest smile.
I pulled a chair out and took her raincoat as she seated herself.
"Let me get you something to drink. What would you like?"
She brushed speckles of rain from her hair with her long fingers, "Oh, I don't come to Starbucks much. I'll just have what you're having."
I returned momentarily with her drink.
"You haven't aged a bit, Sherry." I forced a nervous smile.
"You have. You look ten years older...in a good way, I guess."
"So, tell me what you've been up to."
We spent the better part of an hour catching up, telling each other about our mostly monotonous lives. The jittery feeling in my stomach began to ease as I decided the meeting was actually going well.
"Sherry, tell me about this vampire princess thing you posted on the dating site. It definitely caught my attention."
She smiled and ducked her head as if embarrassed, her finger twirling a strand of her long, brunette hair.
"Well, truthfully, I was just curious what kind of man might reply to such a headline as that. And look, here YOU are!" She waved her hand as her green eyes twinkled.
A cloud seemed to fall over her face, a cloud I had seen before.
"I want out, Rusty. Out of the real world. I don't handle this world well, as I'm sure you have noticed in the past."
I remained silent, intently listening.
"No, not a make-believe vampire world, but I do want to escape. I want to find someone to leave this world, just the two of us. Just take off down old Route 66 to parts unknown and never look back. Remember...'Me and you and a dog named Boo, traveling and living off the land?' She sang the words to the song softly, her green eyes focused on mine.
"Or escape to Mexico! To the western beaches of Mexico and live in a hut and sip tequila sunrises while the sun falls into the ocean, sprinkling its glow into the waves. I want to make love all night while the tide laps against the sand, and wake the next day and do it all over again. That life is never going to come to me. I have to go searching for it. And I want someone to come along to enjoy it with me."
She reached across the table and took my hands in hers.
"Come with me, Rusty. Leave this all behind. Look at you. You're still doing the same thing you were doing ten years ago...chasing women at the bar. You are never going to find whoever you are looking for, not there...not anywhere in this mediocre world we live in. I told you a long time ago that I had never fallen as hard as I did for you. I fell madly in love with you. Never before nor since have I had the feelings for anyone like those I felt for you."
Sherry paused and stared at the table before her, "I still have those feelings for you after all these years."
It was at that very moment I realized the hold Sherry had on me all these years. I gazed into her eyes.
"And never before nor since has anyone...anyone so wholeheartedly given their love to me. Not just a little of their love, but all they had to give. Only you, Sherry, have honored me with your true love. Ever since that time so long ago, you have always been right here," I touched my heart, "You've always had a place in my heart...and you always will."
"Then come with me. Pack a bag. We'll leave tonight. I'll show you how much more love I have to give. Every day and every night, you will have all of me. More love than you ever knew possible, I promise you. It's there, in another world. Come with me, please?"
Somehow she made sense. Cast the bills, the rent, the job aside. Drive off and leave the stress and strife far behind. What more is there than what this woman offered so generously?
"Sherry, I am a creature of habit. I thrive on structure and schedules. I sleep at night with the knowledge that I have a roof over my head and food in the fridge. I am not a spontaneous person. I think everything to death before I make a decision, even what pair of socks to wear. I cannot carelessly and haphazardly throw my life away with no guarantee that another one exists in this other world you talk about."
I shook my head slowly, "I just can't do what you ask."
Sherry rose from the table, slipping her raincoat over her shoulders.
"Then you are not who I am looking for...sadly, you're not."
She turned and stepped out into the rain.
"Sherry, I want to talk more. Can I have your number?"
The pouring rain muffled my plea as Sherry turned her back to me.
" No, don't call me...I won't be there!"
She turned and rushed into my arms. Gripping my face in her wet hands, she kissed me passionately, her tears intermingling with the raindrops on her face. She pushed herself away and disappeared into the torrential storm.
I think about Sherry often and wonder if she ever made it...to another world. I hope so.
Continued from last week's story, 'Psycho Sherry'
"Oh...it appears that I'm intruding!"
The school teacher I had become so absorbed in throughout the evening had returned from her potty break. My glazed eyes rolled to focus on her standing across the table, her arms crossed, her eyes wide as she attempted to digest exactly what was happening. I forced myself to breathe as Pyscho Sherry clutched a handful of my hair in one hand, a raised beer bottle in the other, mere seconds away from crashing it across my brow.
"I take it you two know each other?" the teacher questioned in her squeaky voice, pointing a single finger upward as teachers tend to do.
The words had barely left her lips when Sherry let out a blood-curdling scream, crashing the beer bottle against the edge of the table. The school teacher reciprocated with an equally deafening scream as Sherry lunged toward her with the jagged glass. I felt faint and it is true what they say...I did see my life flashing before me. Well, only the first six years or so. That's when four big, burly bouncers appeared out of nowhere. One scooped the raging psycho up in his arms, her legs kicking his shins relentlessly. Another grabbed her wrist, giving it a painful twist until she released her grip on the weapon. Within seconds the four had disappeared through the front door, Sherry fighting all the way as she screamed profanity and shook her fist at me.
"An old girlfriend?" the teacher asked as she picked my Stetson off the floor and handed it to me.
"Um, a case of mistaken identity," I responded as I glanced down at my beer soaked shirt, "I should go...out the back door probably. Thanks for the dances..."
No, it wasn't the last time I saw Physcho Sherry.
I laid low for a month or so, deciding to avoid the temptation of that bar in the city. I spent my Saturday nights scouring the pages of the dating site, occasionally messaging an undatable woman or two. I eventually grew bored with that and against my better judgment, donned my black Stetson and headed toward the city one Saturday night.
I chose a table in a far corner of the bar, in fact, the very same table I had met Sherry. Sipping on a beer, my mind strayed from the music and neon lights. I wished I'd not come. My heart wasn't into chasing women or even drinking beer. An hour passed and the twang of country music gave way to the beat of classic rock. Chicklets from every corner of the club squirmed their way onto the dance floor as 'Sweet Home Alabama' began to boom over the speakers. I looked up from my empty beer bottle and there she was. Her legs were longer than I remember. Her dress was shorter than I remember and her brunette hair was longer than that dress. I could see those green eyes in the dancing neon lights and there was almost a smile on her face as she danced with a couple of girlfriends.
"What have I done?" I spoke out loud, watching her every move, "This beautiful creature was mine and I let her get away!"
There is nothing that has more power over a man that pure, unadulterated lust. When the song ended, I watched Sherry make her way toward the bar at the far end of the dance floor.
"I really am smarter than this," I commented as I rose from my chair.
"Sherry..." I spoke her name as I laid my hand on her arm.
She turned around, her green eyes locking onto mine.
"I want to apologize to you."
I vaguely recall those pouty lips forming the 'F' but I never heard her say it...I do vividly recall her arm swinging back and the palm of her hand making solid contact with my cheek. Everything is still a bit fuzzy after that. I'm not sure if the lights came on as the bouncers surrounded her or if she hit me so hard that I just thought the lights came on. I have some faint recollection of her hurling vulgarities and screaming my name as she was carried out the front door. I picked myself up from the floor as a hundred or more people stood and watched. Steadying myself against the bar I decided I should leave...out the back door probably.
A decade or more had passed since that night as I sat in my recliner staring at her picture on the Plenty of Fish dating site. There was something about Sherry still there, deep down inside me even after all these years. I shook my head as I read the headline over and over. Psycho Sherry was now the Vampire Princess. I closed the laptop and went to bed. Every evening that week I found myself drawn back to her profile on the dating site. I would stare at her picture and again put the computer away. It was a Friday night that I finally sent a simple message:
"Hi, Sherry. Been thinking about you..."
Continued from last week's story 'The Vampire Princess'
"I never dreamed I would feel this way! I still have butterflies from that kiss you gave me last night. I have fallen hard, Rusty. I have fallen madly in love with you!"
I sat silently on the other end of the phone digesting her confession. Isn't this what I've been yearning for? A smoking hot, young thirty-something chick with beautiful green eyes, brunette hair that swept her butt with every turn on the dance floor. The previous night replayed in my mind. Her head laid against my shoulder, her warm body pressed against mine, and yes, that kiss was one of the best I ever recalled. And here we sat on a Sunday morning, our cell phones pressed against our ears, plotting our next move. Well, I wasn't really plotting anything. I was mainly wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into with this chicklet. Was this the same bitter, man-hating, potty-mouthed female I had met at the bar the night before?
We literally stayed on our phones until the batteries went dead, with me promising a call before I went to bed that night. And we ran our batteries down again.
"I'm going to die!" wailed an unrecognizable voice through multiple sobs.
It was Monday, 3 p.m. when my phone rang.
"Whoa, whoa...Sherry? What do you mean you're going to die?"
"I went to the doctor today," she moaned between sniffles, "and he found a mole on my tummy. He said I should get it burned off or it could turn into CANCER! I'm going to die!"
"So why didn't you let him burn it off? It's a simple procedure and really doesn't hurt. My Uncle Tom practically had his whole face burned off and he's still alive."
Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say at the moment but after talking for six hours I managed to calm her down and convince her that she would not die from a tiny mole on her tummy. I felt mentally drained as I hung up the phone, much like a hostage negotiator likely feels after a six-hour standoff with a bank robber.
Sherry's health issues were the furthest thing from her mind when she called Tuesday night. The best I could decipher after deleting voluminous curse words from her conversation, her kid had been kicked off the school bus for...yes, cursing. Sherry had hunted down the school bus driver and threatened to do serious damage to his anus with her foot and if he'd man up and step out of that F-ing bus...and well, the cops showed up just in time. Sherry was none too happy about that.
In our phone conversation Wednesday night, I discovered Sherry had been fired from her job after telling her boss to go fornicate with himself, not her exact words. Thursday she told her ex-husband basically the same thing when he opted to buy drugs with her child support money. I sat and listened to her rants for two hours, my mind wandering back to that previous Saturday night that I held her in my arms on the dance floor. Those long legs and that tight-fitting black dress got the best of me and when she finally paused to catch her breath I asked,
"What are your plans for Saturday night, Sherry?"
And there she was like I had flipped a light switch, right back to normal...if there was a normal for Sherry.
We dated for three weeks, a wild roller coaster ride the whole time. Yes, wilder than Six Flags. I had come to accept that Sherry might be bi-polar or just plain phycho. Not that I am a qualified psychiatrist, but I had reached the point where I realized I would have to cut ties with this beautiful little filly. Someone was apt to get hurt, likely me, I reasoned and I was aware that if I didn't break it off soon, the inevitable would happen. Yes, sex. If it ever went that far I would never ever get rid of this dramatic, needy, clingy, phycho...um, woman.
What would have been our one month anniversary, as Sherry reminded me numerous times that week, I took the plunge and instead of setting up our typical Saturday night date, I casually mentioned that I had other plans that I could not break. After thirty minutes of F-bombs and sorry SOB's, I weaseled my way off the phone by telling her my dog had just dropped dead. I intended it to be our last conversation...ever.
I pondered my situation most of the day Saturday and came to the conclusion that it'd probably be safe for me to wander up to the bar all alone. Likely, Sherry would stay home pining her heart out for me. So, I starched my Wranglers and donned my black hat and headed out to the city.
It wasn't far into the evening that I met a cute school teacher with pretty blue eyes and the most pleasant smile, something I realized I had never seen on Sherry. This woman captured my attention as she divulged her love for The Eagles and the fact that she had driven a Rambler to high school because her older sister talked their daddy into buying her a Mustang. We eventually wound up at a table just off the dance floor, holding hands and giggling like young lovers as we swapped stories about our high school years. I found myself overwhelmed at the revelation that this woman could actually carry on a normal, civilized conversation. She laughed and smiled constantly. She radiated her genuine zest for life like the morning sun. I was past giddy as she excused herself to the ladies room, reaching for my beer sitting on the table in front of me.
Suddenly a hand lashed out from behind, grabbing the beer. I felt my hat knocked off of my head and watched it fall to the floor. The beer poured from the bottle onto my head, streaming down my pressed pearl-snapped shirt and into my lap. Before I could look up, I felt the bottle pressed against my throat as someone grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.
"One word...one word from you and I'll break this bottle over your head, slash your throat with it, and stand here and watch you bleed to death on this dance floor!"
Well yes, it was Sherry...or as I affectionately like to call her...Phycho Sherry. And I knew she meant every word of it.