“Hey! Hey buddy!”
The voice was coming from behind me.
“Yo pal! Buddy!”
I turned around and saw a guy leaning out of a gigantic SUV. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and appeared to be in his late twenties. I figured he was asking for directions so I walked over. I wasn’t even halfway there when he started talking again.
“Hey, you wanna free boat job? I got two hot teepees in the bag.”
The first thing I thought was, why the bloody hell would I want to work on a boat for free? Then I considered his second sentence and realized that either I didn’t hear him clearly or the man had paint thinner for breakfast. I walked closer to get a better listen.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Do you want a free blow job?” he asked. “I’ve got two hotties in the backseat.”
Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve ever been asked this question. Several thoughts raced through my head at the same time like drunk sumos tumbling down a waterslide.
A) This was like that scene in “Boogie Nights” where a video camera-toting Burt Reynolds and Heather Graham go cruising around Sherman Oaks in a limo, asking random guys if they want to have sex with Roller Girl. Later that day I asked one of my porn-savvy coworkers if certain Web sites out there used this reality TV format.
“Sounds a lot like Bang Bus,” was his educated response.
Not to sound too technical, but mine wasn’t a bus, it was a burgandy Excursion. Granted those things are about the size of a duplex, which is plenty of room for a camera man, two herpes-infested babes, and maybe a shaved goat. At least I’m assuming they were babes – the windows were heavily tinted, so for all I know it might’ve been two gay bikers wearing cheap wigs and mascara.
B) This could’ve been the adult version of a stranger offering candy. I mean what heterosexual male would turn down a blowjob from not one, but two hot women? Hell that’s profoundly better than candy: that’s like getting a free bike and a rim job.
But as soon as I got in the backseat, masked men would put an ether-soaked rag over my mouth. And when I finally woke up a day later, I’d be missing a pancreas or some toes. Or I’d be forced to join an underground death match circuit in Yemen. Or I’d find myself chained to a Mac in Pyongyang, forced to write ads for Kim Jong Il’s new fragrance.
C) As soon as I got within a couple of feet, the guy could’ve pulled out a 9mm Beretta and shot me in the face screaming, “Free blowjob? I don’t think so, you cheap Oriental whore!”
None of those scenarios were win-win situations, so I said “No thanks” and walked back into the supermarket. Inside the Excursion, the two gay bikers tossed their wigs in disgust and wept bitterly.