You Can’t Un-Call The Cops

September 27, 2010

GARY 1 is at the bar drinking a gin and tonic. His unfortunate clothes indicate that he is not a busy or vital man. There is a tire iron on the bar next to Gary 1’s drink.

Bartender: The next thing I know, she’s calling the cops. And I’m like, Jesus, cut it out. Come back to bed. She says it’s because I hit her. But I didn’t hit her. She had bruises on her arms from God knows what but it wasn’t from me. She was so drunk that she convinced herself that I had beaten her. So she calls the cops.

Gary 1: That’s some shit right there.

Bartender: I’m telling you, these Huber Heights girls are the worst. That was the third crazy one I picked up. Actually, SHE picked up ME. I was talking with her friend all night and at two in the morning I say we should get out of here and she tells me she has a boyfriend, right, seven free drinks later. So this other girl, bruisey-arms, comes over and chats me up and drives me to her apartment and the minute we’re inside she’s grabbing my junk. Anyway. So she calls the cops. Now I have two options: stick around and deal with the cops or bolt.

Gary 2: You bolt. You have to.

Bartender: Right. So I put on my clothes and she’s like, Where are you going? You can’t leave. And I’m like, Watch me. And she says, You’re gonna leave without your wallet? I check my back pocket. No wallet. She’d taken it.

Gary 1: That is some shit.

Bartender: It gets worse. You need another g and t?

Gary 1: Please.

[Bartender pours gin and squirts tonic from the gun and slips a lime wedge on the rim.]

Bartender: So I say, Where is it? Give it to me. She says no. I’m like, I swear I will leave you alone forever. You will never hear from me again if you just give me the wallet right now. She reaches in her purse and pulls out the wallet and goes into the bathroom. I’m like, What the hell are you doing in there? She says, and I quote, Teaching you a lesson. Then I hear the toilet flush.

Gary 1: You got to be kidding me.

Bartender: The fucking bitch tried to flush my wallet down the toilet. I run in there and she’s laughing maniacally. She’s naked this whole time, by the way. I push her aside and reach in the toilet. What kind of lesson was she teaching me? God knows. I didn’t even ask. I pull out the wallet. I had like eighty bucks in there, and it’s all soaked, all my cards are soaked, it’s a disaster. I’m screaming at this bitch: You are such a fucking whore! All you Huber girls are fucking disgusting! It’s real bad. She’s crying now and begging me not to leave. She’s like, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll call the cops again and tell them not to come. I’m like, Honey, you can’t un-call the cops. Once you call the cops and tell them a guy is beating you, the cops are coming.

Gary 1: That’s the truth.

Bartender: So she grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into the bedroom and begs me to lay on the bed. And she’s grabbing my junk with both hands, just begging me to stay. I ask her what she’s trying to do and she says I think you know what I’m trying to do. Relax. She starts taking my pants off. I’m like, Jesus, the effing cops are gonna be here any second and you’re trying to fuck me again? Are you nuts? Which was a dumb question because I already knew she was crazy, and crazy-drunk, I don’t know why I stuck around that long. Maybe part of me wanted to fuck her again, I don’t know. Long story short [the phone rings] hold on a sec. [Bartender answers it.] Oh hi. Listen, I can’t have you calling me here. No, it’s not that. I just. Please, listen to me. I’ll be over at two. I know it’s late but that’s the earliest I can be over tonight. Are you gonna be awake this time? You promise? Good. Wear whatever you want; I don’t care what you wear. No, it’s not that I don’t care what you look like. I’m just saying I don’t care what you have on, we’re not going out to dinner or anything. I said I’d take you out sometime, and I will, just not tonight because it’s gonna be two in the morning by the time I get over there. Wear a tank top. And jeans. The ripped jeans. What do you mean you don’t know what I’m talking about? The jeans with the rips in the ass. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. See you later. [he hangs up]

Gary 1: What was that all about?

Bartender: I better not say.

Gary 1: Come one, what does it matter?

Bartender: It’s just. It’s a little weird I guess.

Gary 1: How is it weird?

Bartender: Promise you won’t be upset?

Gary 1: What, are you fucking my sister?

Bartender: I’ve been seeing Josephine, the bot.

Gary 1: Are you serious? She is such a little fuckbot. At least five people I’ve talked to lately are either seeing her right now or they have been with her.

Bartender: I know. She has Dayton’s favorite pussy. You know what I’m talking about. YOU KNOW. God damn, it’s a soggy carnival in there. It’s a mushy gash from heaven, a pudding made of ground up angel hearts, and I’m addicted to it. And I know she’s going to break my heart. This bot will flat-out ruin me, I know it?

Gary 1: Hang in there, it’ll be fine. Have some fun with her and when she stops calling, just find another one. Ladybots are part of the journey, not the destination. Remember that.

Bartender: I know, I know. But sometimes I think Josephine may be my destination. She says stuff to me. She talks about fate and how humans aren’t meant to be with humans; they’re meant to be with bots. She says every woman should have a hangbot and every man should have a ladybot because, anatomically, they work together better. Hangbots don’t get tired and they take forever to cum, and ladybots, or at least hybridbots, have vaginas that are infinitely more enjoyable than human vaginas.

Gary 1: You are preaching to the converted, my friend. But you can’t settle down with a bot. Your family would disown you for sure.

Bartender: I’d rather be with Josephine than be invited to cousin’s birthday parties and Easter egg hunts.

Gary 1: Fair enough. Tell her I say hi. She won’t remember me but say I’m the guy who watched Elf while she jacked off on my kitchen table. So what happened with the Huber girl?

Bartender: Right. So she’s on top of me, furiously riding me, like she’s trying to win a contest, and we hear a knock on the door. It’s the cops. So I’m like, Alright, cut it out. And she says, No, don’t stop. And she pins me down hard, nails in my shoulders. I’m fucking bleeding here and she balls her other hand in a fist and jams it in my mouth, gagging me, no joke. She is fisting my mouth and rage-fucking me like it’s the apocalypse. The cops knock again and shout, Open up, police! I say, Listen, we have to stop. And she says, Never stop, never stop. It’s like porn. We can hear them picking the lock. They’ve got a tool and they’re jimmying the door open. She turns around and says, Yes, yes, they’re coming in. Come one in, boys. She likes it. She’s getting off on this. I’m thinking, Oh Christ, this is her kink. She needs to fuck while cops break in her apartment or else she won‘t get off. And right as the they open the door, bingo, bango, this girl is all eeeh, eeeh, Jesus, Jesus, fuck, fuck: the loudest, shrillest orgasm you’ve ever heard. I look up and two cops are right next to the bed laughing their heads off. They ask if she called about the domestic violence complaint. And she says O hi boys, we worked it out. One of the copes says, Yeah it looks like it. So one cop takes out his radio and radios back to the station: Hey, we just came in here and the happy couple was fucking. Thought I’d let you know. The cop on the other end starts laughing. He says, Oh shit, this could be the girl. Ask her if her name is Dana. The cop turns to the Huber girl and says, Is your name Dana? And she says, Yeah, it’s me. The cop says, Yeah, her name is Dana. And Dana says, I didn’t know I had a reputation.

Gary 1: Unbelievable.

Bartender: She didn’t know she had a reputation. The cop tells me this is the sixth time this has happened. Each time she calls and says a dude is beating her but by the time the cops show up, she’s fucking him. The sixth time! And she didn’t think she had a reputation.

Gary 1: Did you guys get in trouble, like a fine?

Bartender: No. They said it’s worth driving out there for the stories.

Gary 1: And how’s the wallet?

Bartender: Totaled.

NEXT: The Fox in the Garage Part 12: The Fear



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