Instant Karma at Sweet Lips Topless Bar
He fucked around and found out
Man... I loved that bar. It was lime green. What other building has that kind of audacity? There were paintings of women in bikinis all over it. I like women in bikinis, almost as much as I like them naked. It was two blocks from "La Armada" housing projects...down Port Avenue, a particularly downtrodden part of town. It was owned by an elderly black man named Robert, who was always there during business hours, but asleep most of the time. The staff were all ex-convicts. They had a low-down sexuality from repressed times, doing time. Don't think because these women were ex-cons that some of them weren't pretty. A few of them were stunningly beautiful.
I was treated well, always welcomed with a sincere smile. The main bartender had declared me, "the most handsome man that ever comes in this place!" which I knew was a lie, but I also knew that what she meant was I was the whitest guy that ever came in, and that counted too. I was special there, and they never failed to remind me of that fact. I drank for free. Every time.
There was no DJ. There was a jukebox. If you wanted a girl to dance, it cost a quarter for the jukebox besides the dollar you were going to tip her, but you got to pick the song. The place was a zoo; you never knew what was going to happen. This was during a very difficult time in my life, and that bar was my only solace. The girls that worked there legitimately cared for me, and to a man with no family, that means more than you can imagine.
One day I was playing rummy with the barmaid when another white man came into my bar, an asshole redneck mother-fucker. He walked in and screamed, "You nasty Meskin whores!" and we all turned around. He sat at the bar and demanded a beer. I stood up to confront him, and Geneva, the barmaid looked at me and barely perceptibly shook her head "No!" and waved her hand to let me know I should sit back down. She smiled, gave him his beer, his change, and took her turn at cards. Asshole redneck started a tirade about "nasty Meskin whores!", but every time I started to rise, Geneva would just give me this look that made me think that maybe she knew how to deal with this asshole.
After about three beers, ole John Wayne headed to the men's room. As soon as he was out of sight, Geneva broke out a prescription pill bottle and emptied the whole thing into his beer. Naturally, Joe Inbred, feeling macho as hell from getting away with his bullshit came back screaming about "nasty Meskin whores", but by the time he finished his beer, he fell over sideways, off from his stool. My temporary adopted family were on him like a flock of seagulls. They got his cowboy hat, cowboy boots, shirt, wallet, keys (just to be really hurtful I guess), everything but his pants and socks. His pockets were inside out. Then Geneva calmly told me, "Now get rid of this pinche' culero!" so I put each of his feet under my armpits and started dragging him towards the door. Once his head bounced off from the step outside, I was sure that he wouldn't wake up, although I still kind of wanted to kick his ass for insulting my surrogate family. I pulled him into the turn lane in the middle of Port Avenue and went back in to complete my game.
I'm not sure if Geneva won, or I did, but we all felt like winners. Them, the downtrodden ex-convicts, used to having to take any shit flung in their faces, and me, the lonely fucked up drunk vet (at the time). This time, this day, we won. When the bar closed, I checked the location where I had deposited Joe Dirt, but he was gone; probably the cops had picked him up. I was seeing one of the girls by the name of Veronica at the time, and we went home, drank some more, made love, and everything was beautiful. Eventually Robert died of old age, and the bar shut down. Eventually I decided to deal with my problems and start living again. Life goes on, and I don't miss the pain that I used to feel back then, but I wouldn't trade that day for anything. While that time was painful, that day I was part of a family. These might seem like strange memories to cherish, but to me, they're some of my sweetest.
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