Cowgirl Up! The further adventures of a mondern day Irish Rabbi in Montana
So I placed this ad on Craigslist:
Need Hot young girlfriend who can type: aspiring
screenwriter with too high standards.
HALF A DOZEN Spammers right 'off the Bat and out of the Blue, a jewel stumbles out. Says she fits all the credentials’ by sworn oath (I been fooled before by 200 lb plus women with girl next door profile picture and spin a yarn as far as the front door opens and, Bam! Back to Reality! “Oh, I thought you wouldn’t mind a few extra pounds,” or “I gained a few pounds since that picture was taken.”I have heard it all.I made this one recite the federal perjury statute (28 USC 1746), and reveal her mother’s maiden name so I had no choice but to pull out Old Stumbling Block #2:Works like a charm; Jeigermeister and T-Bone Steak at this roadside steakhouse halfway to the North Entrance of the Yellowstone National Park, between Livingston and Gardiner, Montana sit’s a real roadhouse/steakhouse/cowboy Beat’em Up Bar, called the Old Saloon and Livery Stable Steakhouse, out in the middle of nowhere. A place where even if they do call the law (which nobody wants to do by the way), you still have nearly a half hour to keep fighting or get some yonder.
CONTESTANT #338 was 28, Meahgan or Morgan, I forget, was way outside my known limitations but she invoked the rare “Hot Ass Under 30 Rule," and I figured I’d weed her out like Culling Sheep in Montana, except you got to give ‘em a running head start for you kick their hind legs out from under them, it’s always more memorable finale that way, she ain’t gonna remember anything of this tomorrow anyway. Black hair (Not a good sign), built like a brick shit house at about a “Buck 10,” (110 lbs.), drop dead gorgeous and dumber than a door nail. Half the all wood place was a dining area where patrons sit inside true horse stables, were placed one lone dining table and the just half stalls with candle light and lanterns and saddles on the wall. Couple little hot young go getter waitress’s buzzing around. Place gets packed for about an hour and then settles down every evening. I used to live a half a mile away and walked to work. Someone told me they needed a cook and I showed up Monday morning at 10 am to get the job with resume and line of bullshit in hand, and walked right into the middle of a burglary investigation. I noticed all the cop cars there but I was steamed up to get the job and barged in there and handed the manager Bonnie my papers. She pointed to the fresh gouges in the floor where someone had dragged the safe to the front door and then the back door. They all gave me the once over but when they seen I was applying for a job they ignored me. She gave me the job later that day or the next. Knocking out a hundred or so steaks a night was a piece of cake if I could keep the waitresses off the poker machines.
WHEN WE WALKED IN THE OLD SALOON and Livery Stable Saloon in Emigrant or Pray, Montana, about 10 pm on a summer Friday night, it was packed and in full swing, as I knew it would be. It had been nearly ten years since I worked there but I just knew someone would recognize me but it didn’t matter. They weren’t watching me anyway when from behind me appeared every young man’s (an apparently old man) dream, and every mother’s nightmare. Expensive denims slinging ass from front to back and side to side, I swore I seen every head in their turn when she shifted her right ass cheek to miss the left side of that regulation pool table on the way to the Phillies Room. When she came back out and knocked back two Jeigermeister’s I had waiting for her, I felt the air in the room change from “Who’s getting their ass beat tonight to who’s getting lucky," and smiles all around. I'm not good in crowds and I don't like drunks but, I had to find out if Contestant was a keeper or a lush. I pulled my old penitentiary bad boy routine on them by just staring at the floor like it contained the secrets of the universe and mumbling shit like I was fix’n to start bar room brawl by myself…
SHE WAS FLIRT’N AROUND like a school girl at her first night at Summer Camp, playing pool and dancing with complete strangers. I posted up in the far corner where I could put my back to the wall and watch the front door and the back door out of habit. Other than my overtly dangerous demeanor, when people seen I just one of the guys that ain’t got time for nobody or nothing; Miss me with the the dumb shit, small talk, weather, fishing nothing; I seen a 100 nights in this sad country bar and I got hair trigger temper. Besides, my heads rocking, I’m having a good time, just don’t fuck with me. I get mad real easy and I’m stone sober. We were half way into Steaks and fries when the Jeigermiester must have kicked in because,
THATS WHEN SHIT STARTED HEADING SOUTH. Right out of the Blue, this crazy half drunk broad slams her damn drink on the bar and announces, “When I drink, everybody drinks!” What the hell? Fifteen minutes later drunk fuck’s were swig’n right out of the $20 pitchers of beer and the bartender is looking concerned. Right in the middle of our $22 dollar succulent t-Bone Steaks and fries we ate in the Bar, this party animal jumps up and holler’s “When I eat, everybody eats!” Oh, Lord, I seen the dishwasher jump up and grab a waitress smock and ticket book and I knew we was in for a long night. The waitress was getting worked, I seen her ticket book peeled half in half with orders she hadn’t even turned in. Fuck me; I couldn’t get far enough back in that corner by the door. My only saving grace was this giant Moose head hanging over the potbelly stove in the middle of the little dining area, adjacent to the bar blocking my view of half the participants. I was instinctually counting the steps to the front door when this crazy bitch slams her shot glass down on the end of the bar and the damn jukebox skipped or stopped or something, because the next thing I knew it was deathly quiet in there and the whole room’s head shifted from her to me by the door after she hollered, “When I pay, everybody pay’s!!”
WHAT THE HELL! She done wrung up four hundred dollars worth of food and drink and I wasn’t about to pay for all this. Apparently neither was she because when she seen them all looking at me she made a run for it, the length of the whole bar and out the door and the screen door slammed and I thought it might be my turn to exit Stage Left. I bolted for the front door too and was glad I had sense enough to park way out back before I realized there was only one way out of there unless I wanted to do a little midnight off- roading.
© Copyright 2016 The King of Montana. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Memoir
Short Story / Memoir
Short Story / Humor
Paste the link to picture in the entry below:
Paste the link to Youtube video in the following entry:
Cannot annotate a non-flat selection. Make sure your selection starts and ends within the same node.
An annotation cannot contain another annotation.
There was an error uploading your file.