August 28, 2003

Baby, Winky, and the $1 Blowjob

By Tenzin McGrupp © 2003

For a couple of weeks while we lived in Eugene, Baby and I didn’t have regular jobs but we scratched together enough cash for our hefty cocaine habit. We ripped off drunk college kids in bars. Our scam was simple because it was one of the oldest in the book. Baxter Street, near the heart of the University of Oregon, was renowned for it’s eclectic enclave of nearly two dozen bars within three or four blocks. I scouted out a couple of locations. Before one bar got crowded, I plopped myself down at the bar and slowly milked a draft beer. I'd patiently wait for a rich frat boy wearing cut off pants for shorts and a baseball cap, who had ordered a drink at the bar with a crisp twenty dollar bill in his hand. I'd signal Baby who stood close by, ready to pounce into action like a hungry alley cat stalking a dim-witted baby mouse. While the bartender got him his drink and as soon as he dropped the twenty on the bar, Baby would bump into the guy and seductively ask him for either a light or a cigarette. By that point, I would have snatched up the twenty and would be halfway out the door and on my way to the next bar. By the time the guy would turn around to get his change from the bartender, Baby would be on her way out the door while the bartender demanded payment. Another frat boy duped by the old “Bump and Run”.

I'd settle into a seat at the bar nextdoor and wait for a new victim. We’d repeat this six or seven times over the course of a night and walk away with an easy $100. By our second week in Eugene, we'd pulled the scam at least twice at each bar in town. Although we profited very well, we needed a new grift. A savvy frat boy almost busted us one night. Luckily Baby pretended that the guy had dropped his cash on the floor and she pulled a crisp bill out of her bra and gave it back to him to escape our closest call at that time.

I didn’t know if Baby was focused enough for the old “Dollar Blowjob” trick. I had no qualms about it. We needed the cash for drugs and if we had any desire to get the fuck out of Eugene, get our pick-up’s transmission fixed, and go back to Portland, we needed to hunker down and work smoothly as a team.

Here’s how the “Dollar Blowjob” worked. We found a dumpy dive bar and waited until an hour before last call. That’s when Baby carefully scouted out her victim. He was almost always sex starved, something she could see right away from the look in his eyes when she mischievously flirted with him. At first she playfully asked for a drink, then with her eyes flooded with fake tears, she told the guy a sad story about how she just got into a fight with her boyfriend who cheated on her with her best friend. She wanted to get back at him but didn’t know what to do. That’s when she convinced her victim to pay her $1 for a blow job.

“I’ll suck your dick and then I’ll mail the dollar to my asshole boyfriend,” as she instantly hooked whatever guy fell for her ruse.

Shocked at the proposition of a blowjob, and for one so cheaply, the soon to be victim’s defenses were already thrown askew. He never saw it coming. Baby led the poor guy outside to an unlit alley nearby. I stealthily followed right behind them. When Baby got down on her knees and unzipped the guy’s pants, I ran up from behind and put a gun to his head. Baby grabbed the guy’s wallet before I smashed the butt of my gun into the back of his head. We scampered off like young hooligans that stole a couple of sticks of gum from a five and dime. When we reached safety, Baby and I counted our score after we triumphantly snorted a couple of biker rails of coke and fucked for thirty minutes straight. I held all the cash (Baby couldn’t be trusted to hold more than $40) and we pawned every credit card for $60 each to August Minor, the grumpy ex-Vietnam vet who sold us our cocaine.

We pulled the “Dollar Blowjob” scam seven times in one weekend and netted over $1,000 plus a free eight ball of blow. After we celebrated our eventual departure of Eugene with a late night run to Denny’s, I walked outside near the dumpster to throw away the last wallet we'd stolen. I took one quick look inside and found nothing but a couple of useless business cards, a Blockbuster Rental Card which I pocketed, and I discovered a strip of passport photos from one of those picture booths you see at malls and at Wal-Mart. I snickered as I held two pocket sized pictures of some dorky guy and his lovely blonde haired, blue eyed girlfriend as they smooched in an affectionate pose. I turned over the photo and scribbled in green ink was “Me and Brandy”. I wanted to find Brandy to give her back the picture and dispense some friendly advice.

“Listen honey, dump the loser boyfriend. Someone as hot as you should not let an idiot like that guy put his dick in you. If he was stupid enough to let a strung out, pink-dyed dreadlocked redneck, part-time hooker, part-time exotic dancer suck his cock for $1, only to get his wallet stolen from strung out coke fiends, what other stupid high risk behavior do you think he’s done?”

What was that genius thinking? Stupid yard apes like that guy kept me and Baby high for almost a month.

Tenzin McGrupp is a writer from New York City.

1 comment:

sports bookmaker said...

surviving sounds quite hard to do. but at least you manage to keep up your act.