“It Was Fun . . . We Had the Time of Our Lives”

Because she insisted it was a school requirement for one of her classes at the community college, she was able to make mom watch the kids without too much fuss. “Dis ees part of her schkool,” mom said angrily. But surely to god, mom saw through the charade because of what Ann had packed: hair spray and short shorts, not a single book! Her work out partner pulled up in a shiny little red car and they flew outta there, chasin’ a wild week end. They were single and “fun-loving” and wound up in Nashville. They cruised the bars looking for the best spots. “Boys and booze,” they laugh, the radio blarrin’. They screeched to a halt by a big white Cadillac parked on the street and ran up to the driver waitin’ behind the wheel and in their cutest, chirpy, little girl voices ask in unison, “Will you take a ‘pitcher’ of us by yer car . . . we have a camera?” The guy got out and they posed standing on their tip toes, hands on their hips. “Thanks,” they giggle and wave as they speed off. And after much debate, and consideration they decide to “crash” the country music D.J. convention at the Holiday Inn. Lots of fat bald old men turned to see them clomping through the lounge in cowboy boots, hot pants and stretch lace muscle T’s. “We’re from L.A.,” they lied.

“We’re professional body-builders.” Every old fart in the place wanted to buy them a drink. Wanted to get to know them. But one guy in particular kept hanging around and then started telling the other guys to “back off, the ‘girls’ are with me.” The “girls” just giggled. After afew more drinks, he said, “Can’t chose which one I want . . . I’ll take you both.” Ann narrowed her eyes at him and said, “WHAT?” “Yeah, I’ll take you both.” “We’re leavin’,” Ann said. The guy grabbed her arm and growled, “Yer leavin’ with me.” She jerked loose and yelled, “Fuck you.”

“I bought you ‘girls’ drinks,” he said. Ann and her friend were out the door. The guy followed them yellin’, “Git yer asses back here.” He was gettin’ loud and had to be restrained. Some other men grabbed him. “What’s a matter with them bitches?” he screamed. “What’s a matter with them whores?”