March 18, 2005

Fishing for Microwaves

By Tenzin McGrupp © 2004

Las Vegas, NV... I found a spot in seat one, right next to the dealer. An extremely drunk, chubby girl sat next to me at the poker table. She looked like Drew Barrymore's homely trailer park cousin. She slurped a pink drink with a straw and giggled uncontrollably as I stacked up my chips. Her breasts trembled like the ground near Kilauea volcano everytime she laughed. She spilled out of her white Juicy Couture halter top and in my notes I actually wrote down...
She had tits the size of a microwave.
Why I chose the word "microwave" to describe her superabundant breasts, I'll never know. Weeks later I'm still baffled. Where they big? At least the size of one of the Olsen Twins. Was everyone at the table staring at them? How could you not?

The chatty girl played any two cards to the river. She roared through a rack of chips on questionable calls and pounded drinks like Judy Garland, while asking me a dozen questions at once.

"Where are you from?"

I lied. "Rhode Island."

"What do you do?"

I lied again. "Aquarium salesman at Fish R' Us. Do you want my business card?"

"Why are you in Vegas?"

"The rodeo. My probation ended and I was finally free to leave the state."

When I asked her what she did for a living she giggled and threw me a seductive glance. "I make men happy," she said as she lowered her voice.

I waited for the punchline or at least an explanation. Nothing. She let my mind wander. How could she make men happy? She's a kick ass mechanic? An amazing cook? Or she's a stripper? Maybe even a call girl?

She ordered another drink and I asked our waitress for a ginger ale to soothe my aching stomach. I guess I had been messing around with my chips and I inadvertently let rip a chip shuffle, something I do when I'm bored.

"That's cool! Can you teach me how to do that?"

The drunk girl tried her best and the chips flew all over the table. In between giggles she said, "I can't do that. But I can do this trick!"

She touched her nose with her tongue. Twice. Just in case I was looking the first time.

"My," as I paused for dramatic effect, "that's impressive."

"I can do it again!" she squealed.

At that point I ruled her out as a mechanic and cook. Just when I thought I had seen it all in Vegas, a call girl willingly did tongue tricks for me at a poker table in between hands. She was the perfect Vegas fish... soused, without a clue, and playing with someone else's money.

Tenzin McGrupp is a writer from New York City.

No comments: