beat it, pervert
I finished up my gig and walked off stage to collect the usual after-gig shots that kind people buy me from time to time, but I was about to hit the road so I had to take it easy.Madison had come to see me, but had spent most of the gig outside on his cellphone. I went out back to see what he was up to. He was talking to his sister. He held the phone up to my face so I could talk to her.
"Hello, Madisonette!" I said into the phone. She laughed.
Madison laughed and put the phone back to his face.
"That was Jim" he said, "He's a guitar player and a drummer, and a writer." He looked at me. "Hey man, I think that girl that works up front likes you. You should talk to her."
Hm! Allrighty.
I turned around to head back in the club and talk to the greeter girl, but paused in the doorway to bend over and slap my ass for Madison's benefit. He cracked up.
I looked up to walk back in the bar and there was the cute greeter girl grinning at me for slapping my ass.
Oops. Not too suave, homes.
I shrugged at her and ducked into the john to take a leak.
I came out and joined her at the kitchen end of the bar where she was rolling silverware.
"So what's up?" I asked her.
"Well I took my SAT's today, so I'm pretty tired."
"Your what?"
"My SAT's"
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, why? How old did you think I was"
Jesus God. Seventeen. I had to get out of there. I mumbled something about having to hit the road, packed the last of my gear and left.
I am of the firm belief that girls that young should have some sort of day-glo orange label on them.
WARNING: UNDERAGE. BEAT IT, PERVERT.
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