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Velma's
Nekkid City
 LAST
EXIT TO NORTH BUFFALO
On
my way to the Rendezvous, this really weird bar in this weird
neighborhood on the West Side with these people called pipsters
or something, to see the band of this guy at my AA meetings,
my car crapped out on Delaware Avenue, right near to Hertel.
I went walking down Hertel to find a phone but the sidewalk
and street were all torn up like a bomb had dropped and I
couldn't get anywhere in the spike heels I had on. I went
into this bar called The Viridian to see if I could find a
phone and have a drink.
First
of all, I'd swear I had walked into Saturday Night Fever or
whatever with all the mirrors and chintzy, fake chrome but
I kind of liked the place. It was really small but you felt
like there was more to the joint behind the mirrors. Then
I noticed all these Guido "how you doin' guys" like a bunch
of prisoners or some shit just staring at me all rude like
I was on TV or something and not even in the same room with
them.
I
looked at one of them, this way-Guinea, grease-goof with a
gold chain that looked it was pulled off of Barbara Bush,
and said, "Down boy, your lipstick's showing." At first the
pansy put his head down, but all his buddies, who were ages
like 20 up to two-hundred and twenty, started "ooh"-ing and
"ah"-ing and he got all brave and said "Just lookin'." And
then, when I was almost over to the phone, he mumbled, "ya
fuckin' bitch." I wasn't in the mood for this shit, but I
stopped and looked at him all cold and then called about ninety
people before I thought to call my cousin Curtis. He's been
real nice to me the last few years. Nobody else in the family
wants him around because they all say he's gay or whatever.
But I don't give a shit. At least he's not in jail. He jokes
though that he wouldn't mind it.
Anyway,
he'd never heard of the bar and said he didn't usually hang
out around Hertel too much but he'd be down in a little while.
So,
I had to wait there with those cologne-cloud, pretend-gangsters.
I ordered a margarita and the girl didn't know what was in
one and I didn't either so I just got a beer and played some
Prince songs on the jukebox. It was really loud, which was
cool, but then one of those Corleone rejects comes over and
tries out his lines.
"What's
that you're drinking?"
"Budweiser,
Einstein."
"Never
seen you in here before."
"Yeah,
I'm a house wench; I don't wander out to the barn much."
Then
he's like "hey, what's your problem? I'm just trying to have
a conversation."
So
I'm all like, "Fine, have it over there with your circle jerk.
And put that pinky ring back on your dick before it crawls
back in its hole."
So
now, Guiseppe or whoever is getting steamed and he walks back
over to his little sewing bee and starts railing on about
me so's I can hear him, "cocksucking bitch," and other such
poetry.
So
like twenty minutes later Curtis shows up and as soon as he
hits the place, the little grease pool at the other end of
the bar, you'd swear a space ship had landed, they're all
going "Jesus fuckin' Christ, a fucking faggot."
For
whatever reason Curtis wanted to get going right away but
I wanted one more drink. So Curtis finally gave in and sat
down and sure as shit here comes Fiat and Ferrari.
"Do
you mind if we dance with your lady friend", they says to
Curtis.
And
Curtis goes, "well, that's not up to me."
"Oh
yeah," says Tony.
Finally
I says, "Get lost spaghetti dick."
He
says to me, "you can stay, but your cocksucker girlfriend
here needs to leave.'
I
turned to the cum dumpster behind the bar and said, "can you
tell Sicily sissy here to leave us the fuck alone?"
She
says, "They're pretty serious about this."
So
me and Curtis stood up to leave and I drained the end of my
beer, but Curtis, who had barely touched his, left it on the
bar. We stepped toward the door and one of the Sopra-NOs pushed
Curtis pretty hard in the back and he fell forward, past me.
I turned around and put my finger up to the wussy and said,
"watch it, you twat-for-a-dick."
That's
when the gooffella slapped my hand away and grabbed my arm;
trying to give me one those "get in line bitch" shakes. He
pulled me up to his face and his breath smelled like goat
shit and it reminded me of my dad when he would slap me around.
I
grabbed him by his dandelion-puff-thin hair and forced him
to the floor. Then I squatted over him and squeezed my knees
against his ears in a scissor lock and reached back and grabbed
Curtis's beer off the bar, put my thumb over the hole, shook
it up and turned it down into Vito's gullet. I rammed the
bottle in and out of his mouth like I was fucking an elephant.
Foam and shit oozed all over his face and eyes and he was
wriggling his head around trying to get free. I could hear
teeth getting bashed by the bottle and beer was going down
the wrong pipe. When I let him go he was gagging and choking,
all bent over on his knees trying to breathe.
Me
and Curtis left and nobody followed us.
nekkidcity@hotmail.com
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