Oliver Benjamin
them.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” said the dark-haired one somberly.
“Your shoes, for one thing, and I overheard you talking with the
owner. So what is this, a pub or a whorehouse?”
They glanced at each other and laughed. Then the blonde one
spoke, “Well, sort of. Dee has these really ugly sisters who are really
pretty old, and they can’t seem to get any real dates, so Dee tries to
pawn them off to unsuspecting tourists. He shows you these really
old, blurry photos of them that make them look all right, but if you
ever saw them in real life, you know—yuck, right? Anyway, the tourist
goes to Dee’s house with him after this place closes down. The rest,
from what I’ve heard, is ugly. Both sisters fight over who gets you
first, and you can’t escape, because Dee locks you in. I guess the only
reason no one ever makes a big stink about it afterwards is because
one of them is supposed to give really good head. Also, I’ve heard that
Dee is so grateful that he’ll give you free drinks a lot of the time
afterwards.”
“Sounds crazy. Did this happen to you guys?”
“No, no way,” said the blonde one. “Some other guy was telling
us about it.”
Just then, a strange-looking fellow came into the pub, and the
blonde American said to the dark-haired one: “Is that him?”
“Yeah, he’s got a his big yellow notebook. What a tripper.”
I butted in and inquired what was so special about the guy with
the notebook.
“Well, he’s this really nutty poet guy that doesn’t say much, and
usually when he does he’s just spouting some crap. People say that he
must have taken too much acid or something. Anyway, he comes here
a lot and sits by himself and writes stuff.”
“Is his poetry any good?”
“Personally I don’t know anything about poetry, but I overheard
him once and it sounded pretty depressing. I’m not here to get
bummed out, man—this is my vacation! He sleeps on the beach or
something and this one chick that met him told me he hardly ever
eats. One morning I was really hung over and I couldn’t sleep, so I
decided to go for a swim to clear my head. Anyway, this guy, his name
is Tree, was out on the beach doing some weird dance. I couldn’t
figure out what he was doing, so I went up and asked him. The dude
acted like I wasn’t even there! He wouldn’t even acknowledge my
presence.”
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