Hangin' at The Woody Pt 3 The "Little" Indian Girl

Okay, we all get beer goggles when we drink. I don't care who you are. If you say "No, that's bullshit. Not me", then you're a fuckin' liar. It happens. You ain't special, fucker! The problem was, every time I saw this chick (Chunk?), I was completely out of my mind drunk. She'd smile and grin at me and shit, wink, and wave. I'm like most guys in that aspect, if a chick shows the least bit of interest, I'm down to fuck her 7 ways from Sunday. This gets at least 8 times worse when I'm drunk. You know what I'm talking about. So I started flirting with her. Aggressively. Well, at least as aggressive as you can be when you're damn near blackout-drunk.

Turtle saw me flirting with her and tried to stop me. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing? That chick's ugly as fuck!"

"No she's not", I managed to slur out. "She's my little Indian girl. That's my little Pocahontas!"

Now, The Woody was also a karaoke bar. I started serenading her with songs like Wild Thing, and Baby Got Back. You would have thought that I was madly in love with her. My friend Einstein doesn't talk much, mainly because he speaks in binary code, but I think he was silently speechless, if there is such a thing. I even went so far as to buy her roses from the little flower lady that walks around the bar. Oh yeah, I'd completely lost my mind over this chick. I'd sit down with her, we'd hold hands, have little conversations. We were quite the pair. Some time passed, at least what I considered time, anyway. Hard to tell time when you're near pissing yourself drunk! I got around to telling her that I wanted to play hide the salami with her. She was definitely into it, but said that she had people at her house and needed some time to clear them out. That's when I found out that she lived around the corner from the bar. Well! that was fucking great! Just a short walk, and I'd be pleasurably pounding the night away! Since Turtle's chick worked at the bar, we got to hang out there after it closed. I sober up pretty fuckin' quick once I stop drinking, and I was having a deep conversation about Jello Shots with GothChick while she wiped the bar down when my phone rang. The house was empty, and I could come by when I wanted! Since I didn't know how to get to her house, I told her that I'd meet her outside the bar. Keep in mind that I'm largely sober now. I'm standing outside in the dark, watching tweekers sketch by (Yup. It's fuckin' Springfield, for Christ's sake. What'd you expect?), when finally, I see her walking towards the bar. Now, don't get me wrong, I like women of all shapes and sizes. I believe that all women are beautiful in some way. And I'm a fat fucker, so what do I look like judging some woman by her size? But if you're as wide as you are tall, sex isn't really an option with a guy like me. She was a short chick, and looked like a mini-fridge walking across the street. Like I said, I'm a fat fucker. I instantly got images of large kitchen appliances slamming into each other, and creating offspring like toasters, food-processors, or maybe twin blenders. I couldn't take it. I bolted. I went barreling through the parking lot in the other direction, and headed down the sidewalk. I made it to a 7-11, and called Turtle to pick me up on the way home. I told him what happened, and he almost pissed himself laughing. "I fuckin' told you, dude!" he stuttered out between guffaws. Fuck him. He's an asshole.....