She stood there in front of a sign that said Hot Chicks, giving me a come hither motion.
My first thought was that she wasn't very hot. My second was that her thong must be flossing her butt.
My third thought was that she should get herself a better bustier; her boobs were sagging down around her kneecaps. She'd be able to play soccer with them as long as she didn't kick too hard and smack herself in the face with her boobs.
She saw me gawking at her. "Want some company, honey?"
"No, thanks." I said.
"Oh, come on, I'll dance for you."
I scoffed. "I doubt anything involving a pole and some vegetable oil could be considered dancing." I said.
She laughed, showing large teeth. She reminded me strongly of a horse. "Oh, you're funny, you are. But I AM a dancer, I'm top of my class in my pole dancing class."
I was momentarily baffled at the idea of a dance class teaching young ladies (and men I would assume) how to twirl around a pole. While I was thinking about this, my mouth spoke of its own accord: "Oh, so you like being on top do you?"
I was shocked at my tongue and lips and voice box who had conspired against me but the woman laughed again. "Oh, you're a funny one, you are." She smiled her horsey smile again.
"I got a good mark in my twirling pole dancing class. I did really good, and I would have gotten an A, but I put too much oil on the pole beforehand and, during a twirl, ended up sliding off of the pole and flying through the air. You'd be surprised how much momentum you can get when you're twirling."
"Imagine." I said. I was pretty sure that my brain had stopped working and that this was the most bizarre conversation I had ever had.
"Yeah, 'cept I didn't have to imagine, did I? I landed on top of the sushi buffet and got fish all over me. I tried to wash it off, but you know how bad fish smells. I was followed home by all these cats, thinking I was their dinner. Me neighbour, Mr. Johnson, laughed at the sight, said he had never seen so many pussies in one place."
She scratched her head as if she was surprised by this.
I wondered what a girlie club would be doing with a sushi buffet and thought about warning people to stay away. Sushi served at a strip club can't be good for your digestion.
The woman smiled again and in my head I heard a talking horse say "Come into the barn, Wilbur!" I shook my head to clear the voice.
"You sure you don't want some company honey?" She asked me. "I'll treat you really good."
I shook my head and was about to turn away when I turned back to her. She smiled at me again and I am pretty sure I threw up a little.
"Look," I said. "I don't want company, but will you let me give you a piece of advice?"
"Sure." She said. It came out shoore, like she was trying to imitate Marylin Munroe. I shuddered.
"Get a better bra." I said. "You shouldn't be able to kick your own boobs while walking. And don't stand in front of a sign that says Hot Chick." I motioned to it. "It's false advertising."
I walked away from the woman thinking that if I never had sushi again, it would be too soon.
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