Saturday, April 29, 2006

A Saturday Story

I met Milady online. Yeah, when I was single, I put up an ad on Yahoo! Personals. Anyway we hooked up online and chatted for a couple of weeks, then decided to meet in person. That went well and we started dating. One of her favorite hangouts was a place called the Chalet Lounge.

Back in the days of my mis-spent youth, the Chalet Lounge was a hell-hole. 'nuff said about that. Over the years, the management has changed and the Chalet has become a redneck/working class/middle aged biker bar. It ain't quiet, but it ain't dangerous, either. They have a pretty good house band, the drinks are honestly mixed, and the management doesn't tolerate any shit. The manager will form a posse from the guys at the bar and eject a troublemaker face-first into the gravel parking lot where the Alexandria PD will police-up what's left.

A fellow can still hook-up at the Chalet. American society being what it is, at any time there is a representative sample of unattached American females, doing what single people do. These women are the cream of the crop. Experienced in American culture, and with the singe marks of being burned before, they can separate the bullshit from the bull in short order. It doesn't take them long to cull a fellow. These gals love to play, but they ain't toys. If you trifle with one of them, you're apt to get hurt.

Anyway, one day last week, Milady and I were wandering aimlessly about town and we decided to pop in to the Chalet to pay our respects to the management. We arrived and the manager, Larry, hugged my lady's neck. "Damn, girl, it's been a long time."

Larry shook my hand and we started catching up on news and views in Central Louisiana. We talked about how Milady's schedule and mine don't often mesh, and that we just don't have as much time as we did when we were single, yada, yada, yada.

"Besides, Larry," I told him. "I can't come in here alone, anymore. I'm a-skeered."

"Skeered of what?" Larry asked.

"Them Floozies down the bar. If I come in here by myself, they might hurt me."

Milady patted my hand. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll protect you from them Floozies. You stick with me, you'll be okay."

Evidently, that was just exactly what she wanted to hear.

1 comment:

martin-bbq said...
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