A game of real or fake ( or miraculous ) – a boob story part II

The Trap was packed that night. Standing room and empty spots amongst tables that one would not care to join anyway.

The three of us barely made it past the bouncer when we saw Nic*s party arm up in an awkward roof raising dance move. Her slushie was sloshing around and her puddle dance was wickedly funny.

When embarrassing things happen the three of us have our “rescue ranger” roles.

Mel ~ she lets out a laugh that sounds like “pffffft haha” and pulls out her cell to try and take a picture.

Reed ~ looks and says ” oh my” and turns away, lights a cig and giggles.

Me ~ I stare at the wreck and utter ” what the …” And start looking around for the person who allowed this catastrophe to happen.

Mel & Reed fear nothing and are already making a graceful blaze to Nic*s work group and begin the introductions. I try to wave “drunkins” off the dance floor and back to a chair.

The evil thirst of “oh shit this is going to be awkward, I need a drink now ” was bubbling to the tables surface and we ALL were looking for the server.

Nic had mentioned a colleague of her*s was complaining about her upstairs neighbor, at their condo building. Mel had been complaining about her downstairs neighbor. Needless to say… the guilty gal who instigated Nic*s flailing about in public was one and the same.

Nic called her Tiffany. Mel called her Beavus the neighbor Bitch.

I wish it was a standoff that rivaled West Side Story. But it wasn’t. The only song that was uttered was a sing along to Bohemian Rhapsody that played on the jux box.

We collected Nic after our mandatory drink and chat of social decorum. This could have lasted however when Tiffany asked Mel and Reed howling they had been lovers because they ” couldn’t find a man” … I knew my sweet Southern friends were fixin to show this bitch what Red Neck crazy was all about.

Nic, peaceable Libra, morphed it into a joke and a compliment. ( we don’t know how she does this ) and finds us a table outside.

The evening progresses well and on the way to the car we begin the ” have you ever talk ”

By talk, I fully mean Nic bubbling in about boobs. Mel discusses how and why she got hers at the plastic surgeon store. Reed complains about her bra. Thank god this conversation continues in the car.

We roll Nic in the back and I sit with her. Rees is driving and Mel is in front of Nic.

Nic feels the need to feel the difference of real and fake and cops a GRAB to Mel from behind and Harlem Shook those puppies.

We all start laughing and as we come to an intersection Nic proclaims Boobie Freedom and in mock speed hauls up her shirt and bra and plants her tots against the window.

The next thing I hear is dead silence from upfront and a roar if laughter and Nic”s whhhoooooooop it up jungle cry.

I missed the whole thing but Reed and Mel explained that a homeless man in a wheel chair and a young couple was crossing the street at that moment.

The men ( boyfriend and homeless ) appear that this was a sign from God or something. The girlfriend is disgusted. The homeless man in the chair rolls it off the curb to the car, topples over, stands and gets back into the chair.

The boyfriend returns the jungle cry with. Hell ya and a rocker sign while his woman is yanking his shoulder out if the socket to drag him across the street.

The light hit green and Reed bolts the car away and life returns to the average Tequillatude night.

We retell the tit tale to this day…


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