Chapter 6: Steve and Dana

When Peggy’s hubby gave his son, Steve and Dana, his stepdaughter, money for the movies, he assumed they would really go to a movie. He was only interested in getting them out of the house because he really needed some “quality time” with Peggy. It had been so long since he’d fucked her that his eyeballs were swimming with cum.

Steve had just gotten his driver’s license. He was shocked when his dad suggested he take Dana to the movies. His dad had to know that it was risky for an inexperienced driver to be out on the road, with a passenger, after dark. Steve and Dana jumped into the old pickup truck that Steve used to haul his lawn mower around to cut yards with. It was not too clean inside the cab and Steve had to clear away a half dozen empty soda cans and food wrappers to give Dana a spot to sit. This sudden need for him and Dana to get out of the house was unexpected or he would have cleaned the truck out.

There were no good movies playing at the theatre. So, Dana asked Steve if they could smoke some weed, instead. Steve thought about it and decided, why not? It would be a good way to get to know his new “sister”. Steve had heard of a place in town where you could buy pot. It was in an old building just off the state highway. It used to be a gas station, but now it is a seedy pool hall. Not the kind of place he would ever go on his own, but the only place he thought he could score some pot. He asked Dana what she thought. “Why not try? What could go wrong?”, she said.

They found the “pool hall”. You’d think a building that started out as a gas station would have plenty of space for vehicles to pull in and park. But here, there was no real parking area. He spotted a space between two junk cars parked in front of the building, where the gas pumps originally would have been. Steve gently pulled in. But without any warning, the right front side of the truck suddenly jolted and dropped down. Dana screamed. Steve nearly shit his pants. “What happened?” she gasped. “I have no idea. We must have driven into a hole or something”. Steve jumped out and ran around to the front of the truck. In the angled glare of his headlights, he could see that his truck tire was lodged down in a gap in the concrete. “oh shit, this is bad”, agonized Steve. Dana rolled down the passenger side window and asked, “Are we in a hole? What can we do?”. “It looks like we drove into the spot where the gas pump used to be. I will ask for help inside. You stay here”. Dana said “no way, I am coming with you. It is scary out here”. The two went inside.

They entered the area where there used to be a car lift for mechanic work. You could still smell the stale gasoline that had been in the building for decades. There were a few guys playing a game on a worn-out pool table in the middle of the room. Cigarette smoke clung to the still air like fog over a lake. The patrons were a bit rough looking. They all looked like they needed a shave and a shower. This did not appear like men who took their grooming tips from GQ magazine. In fact, they probably needed help to read the instructions on the bottle before they could use shampoo. Their weak reading skills probably explained this group’s unwashed appearance. One guy was wearing old coveralls with the arms torn off. There was a name above the pocket. “Skippy” looked like he was on the fourth day of a three-day drunk. He looked like he needed a cup of coffee and perhaps some quality time at a day Spa. He had skinny arms that were too small for a full tattoo, so one arm had half a tat, and it was continued on the other arm. Worst of all, Dana noticed he had a “Mullet hairdo”. Uhhgg. She thought to herself “How 1980’s can he get?”

This was like a bad Teen movie plot. Steve stepped in front of Dana, as a protective measure, and asked if there was someone who could pull them out of that hole. “What hole?” Skippy asked. “The hole in your concrete right in front of the building!” Steve yelled in exacerbation. Dana squeezed his arm and whispered for him to calm down. She knew this could be a dangerous situation. She, being the only girl, and this being like the plot of a low budget teen movie meant that she’d soon be the target of this group’s interest. She would probably have to show them her boobs. Not that she had a problem with that, but for the plot of this story, showing boobs would be the worst thing possible for this young innocent child.

One of the other fellows stepped forward. It said “Dean” on his shirt ... Dean was another one dressed in in Thrift Store Reject clothing. “Well, what kinda cash you got on you, to make us want to help you?” He leered at Dana, secretly hoping that they didn’t have any money and she’d soon be stripping for them on the pool table. At least that is how the movie plot would go. Steve was too smart to answer this question. He knew that whatever money he flashed at them would not be “quite enough” to get their help. So, Steve said, “Dean? May I call you Dean? (if that was his real name? ... If that was his real shirt?... ) Uh, do you take American Express?”

The rough looking characters in the pool hall all lost it. Everyone guffawed and verbally spelled out “L-M-F-A-O!! L-M-F-A-O!” They did not use the words they literally spelled out the letters. L-M-F-A-O does not really roll off the tongue, so it was obvious that these guys thought it was some new, cool thing to say, and did not know it was an abbreviation for Laughing My Fucking Ass Off.

“Nobody takes American Express, DUMBASS!” The processing fees are ¾ of a point higher than VISA! Why ask such a dumb question? What kind of fools do you think we are?” (Note to reader. No one in this “Name sewn on the shirt’ gang could have made this comment, or even knows what a processing fee is)

Steve said, “I don’t know what kind of fools you are, we just met”. Steve and Dana looked at each other and both realized they had not intruded on a MENSA meeting. These guys were not here to map out a business strategy to launch a new high-tech venture, or to solve world hunger. Nor was it likely that any of them were former high school Class Presidents, or that any of them even remembered attending high school. These boys probably did not even know what day of the week it was. These guys were idiots.

Steve turned to Dana and quietly slipped her his cell phone. He told her Find Joey’s number and call him for help. Tell him to bring his dad’s truck and a tow chain. Tell him to hurry”.

“Yes, you are correct. American Express does charge exorbitant processing fees”, Steve admitted to the group. They all looked at each other and said, “What is he talking about?” Then Steve re-read the “note to reader message”, in a previous paragraph above, and realized that his American Express comment was totally out of context in this story. So, he started over. “Well, I probably have enough cash to pique your interest. It is yours if you agree to assist in extricating my vehicle from the excavation that I inadvertently drove into. Once again, the group looked at each other, scratched their Mullet Haircuts, and said “Fuck, what did you say? Are you even speaking English?”

Steve realized he would have to dial back his communication with these guys to 3rd grade level and hope that was still not too advanced for them. All he really hoped to do was to distract and stall them long enough for Joey to get here with a truck. If that didn’t happen soon, Dana would be forced to do a strip tease dance on that pool table. The real danger was that her hard-soled shoes could possibly damage the felt on that pool table. And nobody wanted that.