ElephantLegs “I model!”
SlingBlade “I might believe you were a model if you didn’t have such fat legs. Oh wait—have you been in a Lane Bryant catalog? That kind of modeling?”
ElephantLegs “NO!!”
Tucker “In her defense, do you realize how much money plus-sized models can make? It’s shocking.”
ElephantLegs “I DON’T PLUS-SIZE MODEL!! I’ll have you know that Ford signed me to a contract just last week!”
SlingBlade “Whatever. You did that on your back.”
One great thing about SlingBlade’s attitude was that he was truly great at unintentionally playing “The Bad Guy.” When you are picking up girls, sometimes having an asshole friend can actually work towards your advantage. Though this girl was all pissed off and huffy at SlingBlade, it made her more into me. Not only is it easy to be the good guy when a Bad Guy is there, but that little exchange made her really want to fuck me, just to prove that the Bad Guy was wrong and that she was desirable.
But there is a limit to what a girl will endure before she gets pissed and leaves. I talked to her for a while longer, solidified my position, and then took SlingBlade around to try and get him in with another girl. And of course if I can trade up too, that’s always a plus.
The next group of girls we talked to were really cute, and one seemed into SlingBlade.
Girl “I totally recognize you from somewhere.”
SlingBlade “Perhaps we go to the same comic book store.”
He said that sarcastically, but she didn’t get the joke.
Girl “No, no, that isn’t it. I think I saw you riding a bicycle the other day, over in Ballston.”
SlingBlade “Are you fucking stupid?”
Girl “What?”
SlingBlade “Yeah, I was riding my bike to the porn store. I take my bike there so no one will recognize me.”
Girl “I have to go find my friends.”
I get us in with another pair of really cute girls. Things were going great for me…sadly SlingBlade’s girl was not quite up to the task:
Girl “I am hoping to get my masters in psych after I get my B.A.”
SlingBlade “It takes someone very smart to get a psych degree.”
Girl “I’m smart.”
SlingBlade “The smartest thing to ever come out of your mouth is a penis.”
Girl “I’m NOT STUPID!”
SlingBlade “IT STOPS TALKING TO ITS INTELLECTUAL SUPERIOR OR IT GETS THE HOSE.”
She turns and walks away.
SlingBlade grabs his nipples like Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs, “I’D FUCK ME!!”
Tucker “Dude, do you realize that when you insult one girl, you aren’t just fucking it up with her, you are polluting her entire group of friends? See those girls that she’s sitting with? Now as far as that group is concerned, we might as well be lepers.”
SlingBlade “Did you hear the nonsensical prattle spewing from her pie-hole?”
Tucker “Dude, I am your best friend. Help me out here.”
SlingBlade “Best friend? I can’t begin to elucidate my hatred for you.”
Tucker “That’s the funny thing: I really am your best friend, but if I died tomorrow, you wouldn’t come to my funeral.”
SlingBlade “I don’t know. Maybe…if nothing good was on TV.”
I try one more time to get him set up with another girl, but that ends before I can even get them both drinks. As I am ordering, he yells out:
“FELLATIO WON’T FILL THE HOLE IN YOUR SOUL!!”
That pretty much sealed his fate with all the other girls at the bar, so we head back to ElephantLegs. In a stroke of luck, this time she’s with some other girl. OtherGirl is very pretty, has a great body, and seems sweet, so she and SlingBlade get along well enough that when the bar closes, the four of us decide to go to IHOP together. As we are walking out, I pull SlingBlade aside:
Tucker “Dude, be cool, this one likes you and wants to hook up. Just be yourself and everything will be fine. She seems like a good girl.” SlingBlade “Yeah, I think so. And if she doesn’t find my unique blend of caustic wit and political satire amusing, I’ll just pull out the ‘B’ game: potty humor and thinly veiled masturbation references.”
I should have just pushed him into traffic right then to save us all time, but what can I say, I’m a loyal friend.
We get to IHOP and there are about thirty people, mostly black and Hispanic, waiting in line. SlingBlade storms in front of them, yelling: “There are white people who need to eat, make some room, white people need a table, outta the way.”
It was obviously a joke, and most people got it and laughed. The Alexandria city cop working the door did not.
Cop “If your attitude doesn’t improve, you are going to sort it out in the tank.”
SlingBlade “OK, Mr. Plastic Badge. So, which section of the police academy entrance did you fail, hmm? Perhaps it was the hospitality portion.”
Tucker “Dude—he’s a real cop.”
SlingBlade “Oh…we’ll be leaving now.”
We take the girls across the street to Denny’s. I guess they have lower standards for seating drunk idiots than IHOP because they give us a table immediately. SlingBlade goes to the bathroom and when he gets back he tells the table:
“Dude, taking antibiotics and then drinking beer is a bad idea. I just let loose a symphony of bowel movements, each in different pitches and melodies. It was like a poop xylophone in there.”
I think this is hilarious, while the girls do not. Some people just don’t get good potty humor. After we order, SlingBlade and OtherGirl start getting to know each other.
OtherGirl “So what do you do in your free time?”
SlingBlade “Cut up Guatemalan hookers and bury them in shallow graves by the interstate.”
OtherGirl “What was your family like?”
SlingBlade “My dad was so mean, he’d give my sisters and me ten dollars on Christmas Eve, steal it back from us that night when we were sleeping, and then beat us on Christmas Day because we lost it.”
She was a nice girl, but wasn’t getting the jokes. Sensing the night slip away, I tried to shift the focus by talking about ElephantLegs’ ex-boyfriend. He was a complete tool, and I figured this sort of gossip would be more OtherGirl’s intellectual speed.
ElephantLegs “Yeah, he was 26, and I was 20 when we met. We met at a Macaroni Grill my friends and I were eating at, in [a very rural college town].”
SlingBlade “He is an assistant manager at a Macaroni Grill? In that city? HAHAHAHAH. This one sounds like a winner. Was he a townie?
Did he have a goatee and drive a rusted-out Firebird?”
ElephantLegs “No, he was a really good guy. He was cool.”
SlingBlade “He sounds like the type of guy who would profess his love for a girl in spray paint across a highway overpass. I bet his busy schedule includes screaming into his pillow and crying