The Bimbo's Dildo

It was dark, he was familiar with the area so he took a right at the expressway. Unable to decide which exit to take, he chose the next one available. Off to the left, he'd seen a sign in the shape of Texas with a couple of cabaret legs painted on it, so he took a U-turn at that exit.

The music wasn't too loud, and it didn't take long for him to choose the nearest available bar stool. The place was sparsely populated, and the first two people to approach him were soon giggling at the gift the pretty gal had for the barkeep. It was a huge dildo that vibrated and banged on the countertop.

"I'm sorry.. can I get you anything?"

"Do you have Miller High Life?"

"Sure thing coming right up."

He took a couple of swigs and was trying to remember why it was that he always asks for Miller High life. It must've been some guys at work back in the 90's. Then the music did start to bother him. 'Love Hurts' by Nazareth.

If he had a nickel for every time some dumbass played that song somewhere in Texas, he'd be filthy rich. But he wasn't. He was still sitting on the same old barstool.

He might've been in the right place at the wrong time, but it didn't matter too much by then. He'd already set eyes on her. Something about her reminded him of better days. They had already sat down on one of the padded couches to their left.

They both waited for that damn song to end to gauge how loud they'd have to talk in order to communicate properly. The first thing she asked him concerned the gal that had given the barkeep the dildo.

"Uh... no. I like you much better."

He had been there and done that so many times he didn't really care. The bouncers had left them alone a long time ago. At this point they were just waiting for the place to close so he could drive her home. Nowhere is too far away when there's an expressway nearby.

He locked his parent's front door, hung a left just past the entrance and closed his bedroom door as quietly as possible. He knew he was screwing things up royally. He always had. But boredom can be such a bitch. Trying to imagine what the rest of his family would be talking about tomorrow seemed to be too much at the time.

And that song. Love hurts. No shit sherlock it sure does. He closed his eyes and wondered how long it took those idiots to write that damn song.

The next day he woke up to his mother's complaints about the noise during breakfast. His car made a lot of noise. The sound of his mother's washing machine wasn't drowning out anything. It couldn't have been a stone's throw away from the breakfast table.

His mother, of course, had to wake up early to do the washing as his clothes reeked of cigarette smoke, beer and a mish-mash of perfumes and colognes. At least the smell of breakfast was comforting.

Then the phone rang.

"It's for you"

"Spanish or English?"

"English."

"I'll be right there."

He grabs the handset.

"Speaking. Yes. I think I know where that is. Yes. I'll be right there."

He grabbed the keys to his mother's car and headed out to work. Now he was happy. Now he could concentrate on work. He had hoped it was the same school where he had found work substituting for an elementary school gym teacher.

He'd never had so much fun and gotten paid for it at the same time. But at his age, only losers were still living with their parents.