Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....And Me. Part IV

As we left our saga, Gretchen's grandpa had informed me, in no uncertain terms that I should be wary of Gino, Gretchen's brother with these chilling words....

"Pool is about the only thing Gino DOESN'T shoot!".

Shortly thereafter, I headed home and fell into bed. I slept the sleep of the dead. Hell, it had been a LONG night!

Back To The Story.........

I awoke to the sound of the telephone chirping in my head, not the alarm clock. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was just before noon.

"Damn! Who the hell is this?" I wondered.

I grabbed the phone.

"Hello."

"Who's this?" a male voice asked.

"You called me, who are lookin' for?" I asked.

"Ron, the music guy." the voice said.

"Well, I'm sure I'm not the ONLY "Ron... the music guy" but yeah...I guess I'm him. Who's this?" I asked testily.

"This is Weed bro...where the fuck are you?" he asked angrily.

Damn, I hate people who ask dumb assed questions.

"Weed.....you called me.....I answered....where the hell do you reckon I am?"

He hesitated a second then answered.

"Well, you ain't here, I know THAT much!"

"Now that we've settled that.....what do you want Weed?" I was wanting to go back to sleep.

"I'm at the clubhouse waiting for you motherfucker, when are you gonna be here?"

"Around 3:00 like I told Gino." I said.

Silence on the line.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Well.....I'm here now." he said.

I was getting a little perturbed.

"I'm going to be here until about two o'clock......SLEEPING Weed but, I'll be there at three."

More silence on the line until I heard another voice come on the phone.

"Get your ass over here bro....we gotta make sure this shit is right for Gretchen's party."

It was GINO!!

Now.....you can call me a coward but, my entire demeanor changed faster than a speeding bullet.

"Gino....I thought we agreed on three o'clock."

"I changed my mind bro....I couldn't sleep anyway. How soon can you be here?" he asked.

Talk about an "all about me" mentality!

Screw this bastard. Waking me up just because HE couldn't sleep. Screw him!

I thought about it a second or two and made up my mind.

"I guess I can be there in about an hour." I stated forcefully.

(Oh yeah....like YA'LL would have taken a principled stand against a freakin' mass murderer!)

"Get here as soon as you can." he demanded.

"Where the hell is your place?" I asked.

He gave me directions to a location approximately ten miles away off of Hwy. 17.

"Ok......I'll be there in an hour."

"Make it a half hour." he growled.

"Look dude, if you wanna call this thing off, that's fine with me but it's gonna take me at least an hour to get there."

Silence on the line again until he spoke up.

"Just get here." he snapped and the line went dead.

Shit.

I got ready, left the house and pulled into the gravel parking lot of "The Office Lounge" at a little after one o'clock.

It was empty. Not a soul in sight.

I parked and went to the front door of the one story, cinder block walled building.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I pounded on the door........no answer.

Walking back to my car, I realized that I was hungry and since no one was around, I decided to go down the road to a Church's Fried Chicken place.

When I finished eating, I drove back to the clubhouse and, as I was pulling into the parking lot, I noticed two motorcycles parked by the front door.

As I pulled up close to the bikes, the front door opened and Gino walked out looking none too pleased. He was wearing the same clothes as he wore the night before or so it seemed. In my experience, bikers pretty much wear the same type of shit all the time so......how do you know?

He was DEFINATELY still wearing that big ole pistol on his hip! No mistaking THAT!!

My survival instinct surfaced and I reached under my seat. Thankfully, my hand immediatly found the snub nosed .38 I had kept there for just such a situation but hadn't even thought about for months.

As I got out of the car I slipped the pistol in the back of my jeans.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he roared.

"Gino, I was here thirty minutes ago, beat on the door and nobody answered so, I went and got a bite to eat." I replied.

"You should've stayed here." he barked.

"You should've been here." I said.

He looked and acted angry but all he said was.....

"Well, let's go."

He turned and walked to the door. I followed.

Once inside, I couldn't believe my eyes. I had been expecting something very different than what I saw....

This place was NICE!

It had paneling all around, wood flooring and an incredible bar almost forty feet long with a mirror which ran the entire length of it which, looked to be very old.

There were six pool tables, a cool old jukebox and .....to my surprise, a carnival type pop corn machine against one wall.

"Nice place." I commented.

"Yeah, I like it." he said. "Not what you were expecting?" he asked.

"Not exactly." I answered.

I followed him to the rear of the building and saw that the stage had already been set up with all our equiptment.

I was surprised, to say the least.

I walked around, checked cables, lights, monitors, speakers, microphones........damn, everything was ready to go.

"Who did this?" I asked.

"Weed" he said. "He's been a 'roadie' for a long time. Worked for some big timers."

I was impressed and told him so.

"Well, hell............I guess I'm done." I said. "We'll do a sound check tonight about what? Eight?"

"I wanted you to check it out and make sure it was good to go." he said.

"Looks good to me.....I guess I'll head back to the house."

He followed me back towards the front door without speaking.

Until I started to open the door.

"Hey bro." he growled.

I turned to face him. Waiting for him to continue.

"Did you and Gretchen have a good time last night?" he sneered.

"Yeah, we had a great time." I answered.

He looked as if he was going to say something but, I beat him to it.

"Yep, me, Gretchen and your grandfather had a ball. Actually, Gretchen went to bed but your Gramps and I got hammered on Absolute and he beat my ass shootin' pool." I added.

He laughed.

"That old fucker can handle a stick can't he?"

"Yeah..I'm glad I didn't have any real money on me. That old man would have cleaned me out!" I laughed.

"He pulled that old Vodka swillin' bullshit on you didn't he?" he asked. "He dumps it in the sink when you ain't lookin' bro."

The old bastard!

I walked steadily to my car and he called out to me again.

"You need to leave Gretchen alone bro."

As I reached my car, I turned around to face him. DAMN that man was LARGE!

Now, I have NEVER been a bad ass but, I've always had an aversion to assholes and bully's.

I leaned against my car while letting my right hand rest behind my back very close to my pistol.

"Gino, I'm about sick of this "you're a bad assed biker and I'm supposed to be scared of you" horsehit."

He was speechless so...I continued.

"Look dude...we're both big boys here....OK.....I'm a big boy. You, on the other hand, are a fucking GIANT but...I'm not scared of you!"

He just stood there looking at me as though I were a cute little petulent child throwing a temper tantrum.

"If your sister wants to see me, that's MY fuckin' business! NOT yours!" I shouted.

(I'm not certain but, I may have stomped my foot like a cute little petulant child! I don't know.)

Oddly enough, Gino didn't seem to be very fearful. Go figure.

"Gino, I've been in a bunch of fights! Don't think I'm scared of you!" I shouted. "Of course........I've never actually fought a fuckin' Coke machine with a gotdamned head but, I'm gettin' tired of this shit!"

He began laughing.

After a couple of very uncomfortable seconds, I asked.

"What the hell are you laughing about?"

"Bro.....Gretchen is my sister and I love her but,.... she's a freakin' maniac." he said matter of factly.

I was pondering this statement when he added.....

"You need to leave her alone my man...she's bad news." he said...sadly.

I stood there trying to make sense of this shocking turn of events.

While I was contemplating the situation, Gino spoke up again.

"All I'm saying is that you need to leave her alone bro. If I was you.......and IF.... I didn't know all about her crazy shit AND, IF.........I wasn't her fuckin' brother....... hell yeah......I'd fuck her six ways from Sunday BUT......she's a wierd little girl ....BRO."

"What do you mean by....."wierd?" I asked.

He thought about that for a second.

"Let's just say that she loves to stir shit up." he said.

"Like........what kind of shit?" I asked.

"Like the time she called me in the middle of the night, crying." he said.

"She told me that a guy had beaten her up..... Turns out, she had beaten him half to death with a baseball bat while he was drunk in bed because he wouldn't wake up!" he said. "Of course, I didn't know that when I came to her "rescue"....I just showed up, went into the house and shot him." he said.

He continued....

"Hell, I believed her story.... until the cops played the tape of her confession.

"She pretty much caused it all but..... I can't really blame her." he almost whispered. "Hell, I reckon I had it in me all along.... that urge to waste some bastard. Well, it must be true because, that night .....I just walked right into that damned house and killed that poor drunk fucker! "

"All because of her BULLSHIT." he said.

I thought he was going to start slobbering!

For a minute or so, I thought about what he had said.

"Gino....Who am I supposed to believe? Your own damned grandfather even warned me about you." I said.

He grinned an evil looking smile.

"Oh yeah....don't get me wrong.....I WILL kill your ass but.....only if you NEED killin'."

I pondered that for one millisecond.

"So, are you gonna kill me?" I asked him.

He laughed.

"Not right now....I'm pretty sure you could pull that pistol you've got your hand on faster than I could get to mine." he chuckled.

Damn! Stone cold busted!

"Well damn it....I thought you were gonna kill me for screwing around with your sister!" I said.

"Bro, I don't care what you do with her but, I'm telling you...she's bad news. Do what you want to now that you know about her.....it's your ass, not mine." he said as he turned to leave.

To Be Continued..... Again.

**OK......I'm an asshole BUT I have got to go to bed NOW....it's been a long day of being with family......shoot me now!

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Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....And Me. Part III

When we left our story, Gretchen and I were sitting on the beach. I had just learned that her brother was a homocidal maniac who, at least for tomorrow, was my employer. You know, typical story....right?

Back To The Yarn...........

As Gretchen spoke, I could hear the sadness and fear in her voice. She loved her brother or, loved the brother he USED to be.

After a bit, conversation halted abruptly and she leapt to her feet and began running down the beach towards the water.

If ya'll are guessing that I followed her, you would be correct.

She stripped naked and dove into the waves. Like a loyal puppy, I followed her.....of course.

She swam well and, in the moonlight, I could see her twenty feet ahead of me and pulling away.

Again...I followed.

Before long, we were quite a way from the beach and she showed no signs of stopping.

I had lived almost my entire life around the ocean and in the water but, to be honest, I was getting a bit worried.

Not only is there a well documented "shark hole" off the coast of Seabrook Island but the rip tides in that particular area were and ARE notorious.

She kept swimming like a friggin' machine as I followed her until I took time to glance back at the shoreline.

DAMN! We had to be at least, 150 yards out to sea!

I decided to catch up with her and began to swim as hard as I could. Within a few minutes, I realized that she was maintaining her lead if not pulling even further ahead.

Finally, I'd had enough! I wanted to live long enough to chase another nubile young naked chick again some day!

"SHARK!!!" I yelled at the top of my tired lungs.

Damn.....it worked!

As I tread water, I could see her reverse course and head back toward me like freakin' Aquaman!

Much to my surprise, she passed me like I wasn't even there on her way back to the beach. She was moving like Mark freakin' Spitz and making noises that sounded like....

"Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh......"

I started swimming easily, wanting to make it back to the beach before I became exhausted and drowned. Call me crazy.

I saw her reach the shore, turn around and begin screaming.

"Hurry Ron, Hurry, Hurry....." repeatedly, at the top of her lungs.

Knowing that I had made up the whole "Jaws" thing, I swam easily until I reached the beach.

As I walked to her, I was breathing hard and laughing.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" she asked.

Once I got my breath, I said.

"There wasn't any damned shark, I was just tryin' to get you to stop swimming before you reached fuckin' England!" I laughed.

You ASSHOLE!!" she screamed. "I swim five miles a day when I'm in training."

"In training for WHAT?" I asked.

"The Olympics!" she responded.

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know?" I asked. "I thought you were going out too far."

"Well who the hell asked you to follow me?" she shouted.

I thought about that and said, honestly.

"Have you looked at yourself lately? Naked? You honestly thought I wouldn't follow you?"

I suppose flattery WILL, in fact, get you anywhere because she immediatly began laughing.

We gathered our clothes which had scattered in the wind. I never did find my shirt so we headed back to the house.

"You're really trying to make it to the Olympics?" I asked.

"Sure am...I'm gonna make too." she responded confidently.

I believed her...the girl could swim like Flipper.

Once we reached the house, we showered and went to bed.

A short time later as we were umm.....reading the collected works of Dickens, headlights bathed the room and she uttered the words no guy wants to hear.....

"Quick, get dressed!"

Well hell, it didn't take me long to put on my jeans, socks and shoes. I no longer had a shirt so, the process was much quicker than normal.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"I don't know, it could be my Mom or.....(the words that followed made me whimper like a small child)....it could be Gino." she whispered.

My mind was racing like wild until it finally fixed on one cogent thought.

"Is he gonna kill me?" I asked. Hell, I thought I had a right to know!

She giggled, actually freakin' GIGGLED but never answered me because, at that moment, we heard the sound of the front door closing.

We made it out to a gameroom before I heard a male voice call out.

"Gretchen, is that you?"

She looked at me and smiled.

"Oh.....it's just my grandfather." she said.

"In here Grandpa!" she called out.

Seconds later, an extremely old looking frail man entered the room with a cane in his left hand and large pistol in his right.

What the hell is it with this family? Everybody packs a gotdamn pistol!!

"Gretchen....what's going on here?" Grandpa demanded.

She had tossed me a pool cue and one for herself and was bent over as if getting ready to break.

She put the cue stick down on the table and ran up to hug and kiss the old man who was STILL holding the pistol.....on me.

"Grandpa, put down that gun!" she demanded.

"Who's he?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron, this is my Grandpa, Grandpa, this is Ron. You remember him don't you Grandpa?"

He pondered that for a second until she added....

"He's Bridgette's fiance Grandpa, you met him on Hilton Head last summer at the tennis tournament. Ron came in second."

Damn....this little girl could lie! What are the odds that one family could boast of both a pathelogical liar AND a fuckin' serial killer? Go figure.

Thankfully, Grandpa fell for it. He lowered the pistol and shuffled towards me with an outstretched hand.

I shook it.

"Where's your shirt young man?" he asked.

"I lost it on the beach sir."

"Where's Bridgette?"

Gretchen jumped in.

"Grandpa....she and Ron got into a little spat. She stormed out wearing his shirt." she offered.

He looked at me and said...

"You didn't follow her?"

"Well sir, I wanted to follow her but the headlights on my car were messing up and I'm not familiar with the roads around here so, Gretchen was nice enough to offer me the guest room for the night." I lied.

Damned if the old man didn't buy it!

He looked at Gretchen, then at me and said, matter of factly.

"It's late, I drove thirty miles to check on the place because that nosey Mrs. Blanton next door told me someone was messing around in here and, I'm tired. Let's all get some sleep.....seven a.m. comes early these days." he obviously was a man unacustomed to having his decisions disputed.

Evidently, this was the case because Gretchen shot me a quick look, kissed ole Grandpa goodnight and hurried off to bed leaving me standing there with a gray haired old cadaver lookin' dude with a damned cannon in his right hand.

I was trying to think of something to say when he spoke up again.

"Come on young man, I could use a drink before I turn in."

I followed him down a short set of stairs and we entered a beautiful little bar area.

"What'll you have?" he asked.

"I'll take a Scotch on the rocks if you have it." I said.

He scrounged around under the bar a minute or so, straightened up and said.

"Right....Vodka it is."

He poured us both a HUGE tumbler full of Absolute and offered me one.

As I took the glass, he chuckled a little.

I took a gulp and grimaced as it burned it's way down my throat.

He slugged about half of his and, out of nowhere, said.

"Young man, Gretchen is my heart but, she thinks I'm senile as hell and, of course....I'm not. I know what's going on here."

I shifted around uncomfortably, took a hit off the vodka trying to think of something to say....I settled on a brilliant,

"Going on sir?"

"Son, do not piss down my leg and tell me it's raining...you're fucking my grand daughter aren't you?"

I thought about that for a second.

"No sir......not at the moment. You showed up." what the hell.... I was busted anyway.

Much to my surprise, the old man laughed his ass off.

After a couple of uneasy moments, he shook his head.

"Well, at least you've got balls boy."

"Yes sir, and I just figured you'de blow 'em off if I lied to you....I'd really like to hang onto 'em." I grinned at him.

He finished his drink and grabbed the bottle again. As he poured himself another monster drink, he offered to pour me another one. I accepted.

He looked me in the eyes and said....

"You wanna shoot some pool?" he asked.

"Sure" I answered.

He told me to follow him and, looking back at me added.

"I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin' you're gonna get the old man drunk and then go fuck my grand daughter but guess what?" he chuckled.

"I'm guessing I'm gonna shoot pool all night." I said.

"Very perseptive young man." he continued walking.

Believe it or not, me and that cool old dude drank an incredible amount of vodka, shot pool and talked shit till the sun came up. He was a bit like a cranky old Jimmy Stewart type.

He told me war stories, funny stories and even gave me money to bet him with when I told him I only had a few bucks on me.

"Gotdamn son, don't ever gamble with a sumbitch playin' with air. You gotta SEE the money or it ain't real."

The old fucker won every penny he gave me and then handed it back.

"Let's go again." he was getting drunk.....finally!

"Sir...I've gotta get some sleep, I'm working tomorrow." I pleaded.

He grinned.

"Tell you what I'll do...play me one more game. If I win, you owe me twenty bucks...if YOU win, you can keep this cash.....two hundred bucks....whad'ya say?"

"What the hell....ok."

I had beaten him a couple of times before and he was pretty drunk.....what the hell.

The old bastard let me break and I made three or four shots then, of course, I missed.

He grinned and looked at me as he lined up his first shot.

"Well, at least your evening ain't a total loss."

"Sir?"

He sunk a bank shot, straightened up and laughed.

"At least you did get fucked ONCE tonight. I'm takin' your money." he said.

While he didn't run the table, he did beat me handily....again.

"See? You DID get fucked!" he laughed.

Remembering the romp in Gretchen's van, I grinned at him, handed him a twenty and said...

"Yes sir, I sure did."

The sun was well up and I was tired so I told him I needed to get home.

He seemed dissappointed but put down his cue, walked over to me and shook my hand.

"Well, other than needin' a gotdamned haircut, you seem like a fine young man....I hope I see you again."

"Me too sir....thanks for the pool lesson." I said.

"Do you need your money back......for gas or something?" he asked.

"Nah....I'm good but I reserve the right to win it back."

He laughed and said.

"If you live through Gretchen's birthday party at Gino's clubhouse tonight, I'll give you a chance to win it back."

I was surprised.

"You know about that huh?"

He laughed again.

"Son, Mrs. Blanton next door stays so drunk, she wouldn't notice if the fuckin' Russians invaded! Gino called me and said that if I didn't come over here, HE would."

Holy Shit!!

I shook his hand and thanked him.

"I'm glad that YOU showed up. I'd much rather shoot pool with you than with Gino." I said bravely.

He gave me a dark look.

"Young man.....just remember....POOL is about the only thing that Gino DOESN'T shoot."

I thought about that comment the whole way home.

I staggered in the house, set the alarm clock for two o'clock and fell into bed.

**And now.... a scene from the exciting conclusion of "Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....and ME".

"Gretchen....for the love of God, put your top back on! Gino's just looking for a reason to shoot my ass!!"

"I'm not afraid of Gino!!" she screamed while twirling her top over her head.

"Well that's real fuckin' brave of you Gretchen....YOU ain't the one he's gonna KILL!!"

Suddenly, as if by magic, who should appear but Gino...and he was PISSED!!

To Be Continued........

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An Unexpected Rant

I realize that all six of my loyal readers were probably expecting the next installment of my, less than spell bounding, tale entitled, "Grechen, The Hell's Angels...and Me" but, alas....I have tragic news.

As hard as I tried tonight, I simply COULD NOT, for the life of me, get into the mood to continue the story!

Why....all six of you may ask, is the reason for this?

Well, I'll tell you.

My sister in law MOVED IN TODAY!!!

Oh the humanity!

I'm not talking about a fucking "VISIT " ya'll.....I'm talkin' about "MOVED IN"!

She has been talking about leaving her husband of 39 years for....well,.... YEARS and, like the moron I am, I have consistently told her that she SHOULD leave the Cro Magnon mother fucker.

If Toby, her husband, had a gotdamned brain, he'd take the sumbitch out and take it apart!

Well, today she actually left the dumb bastard.

I was very supportive of her decision until my precious wife Michelle, informed me that she wanted to stay with US !!

All of the sudden, I flip flopped faster than John fuckin' Kerry!!

Surely those two, damned near, sixty year old "kids" could work things out! Hell, all young couples have their "rough patches" from time to time but DAMN IT.....you fight through 'em!!

As I'm sure you have gathered by now.......

My sister in law "D" has decided that, at the age of 56 years old, she's gonna be the new Mary Tyler fucking Moore and damn it.....She's Gonna Make It After All!!

In MY gotdamned HOUSE!!

She showed up with a tractor trailor load of shit which, like the dimwit she is, she expected to pack into our garage.

Hell, Michelle and I spend half our lives shufflin' OUR shit around in the garage trying like hell to gain an extra square foot of space! Who the hell does she think she is? David freakin' Copperfield?

I took one look at her load of crap and immediatly called a storage company in the area.

I swear, the following is an accurate transcript of the conversation that ensued.

"Hello, this is ****** *** Storage.

(ok, you busted me....there were no asterisks spoken during this call but.... I don't want to get my ass shot off so.....I'm not gonna disclose the name of the company.)

"Yes, I'm looking to rent a storage bin." I said.

"A what?" the woman asked.

"A storage bin." I repeated.

"I'm sorry, Ben's gone to lunch but he'll be back in about an hour."

Folks.......That was the best part of my day!

I've spent the rest of the day moving both computers upstairs into the guest room along with my guitars, keyboards, and a myriad of assorted shit.

Michelle and I had, years ago, turned the basement into a self contained apartment complete with a generator which could power the place as long as the gasoline held out. We lose power up here during snow storms several times per year so......this was our refuge.

It's basically a one bedroom apartment with a full kitchen, full bath, computer room, AND recording studio all in three rooms but, to us, it was and IS the "YOUNTO ROOM".

"YOUNTO" as in.....

"You wanna go play guitar?"

"Yeah....I do.....YOUNTO ?"

For those Yankees reading this...."YOUNTO" is roughly translated to mean, "Do You Want To"?

Well, to make a long story short....thanks to my sister in law, Michelle and I no longer have a "YOUNTO" room.

Well, at least until that dizzy bitch pisses me off. When that happens, I swear, I'm gonna set my jaw, gather my courage and beg Michelle to make her sister move out!

As my friend "YellowDog Granny", Jackie Sue would say.....

"Fuckity, Fuck, Fuckity, Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!"

I'll see ya'll tomorrow. I'm gonna have a huge shot of Vodka and go to bed.

If ya'll are religious folks, please pray that I don't murder "D" in the morning.

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Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....And Me. Part II

When our story left off, a stunning little biker chick had captured my um....well, let's just say that I was hooked. A crazy biker who resembled a hairy phone booth had 'offered' me a gig at the local Hell's Angels clubhouse and ole Bull had been silenced by the aforementioned biker babe.

Back to the tale.....

As promised, a veritable hoard of black leather clad hairy dudes made short work of loading out our equipment. I suggested that we leave the lights and special effects stuff since we were just doing a one night stand.

Gino stared me down for a minute or two.

"Bro....it's Gretchen's fuckin' birthday party." he growled.

Gino could have been a friggin' vetriloquist because, I swear, his lips never even twitched as he spoke. Of course,..... my eyes were glued on his right hand as it hovered menacingly near the big shiny pistol on his hip but still......I don't think his lips ever moved.

"You're right Gino...what the hell was I thinkin'? Nothing's too good for Gretchen." I said.

"Fuckin' A bro." he said. (turns out....bikers say that alot!)

Gino bellowed for a person by the name of "Guthro" and shortly, yet another bearded black clad hairy dude came walking up to where we stood.

Gino introduced us and I shook his paw.

"Good to meet you Guthro." I said innocently.

Jeez...the guy actually growled like a freakin' Rottweiller and jerked his hand away violently. With his left hand, he lifted up his bushy beard and with his right hand, pointed to a tattoo on his NECK!

You know.....on that really tender part around your Adam's Apple......

Damn...it made my rectum twitch at the very thought of undergoing THAT ordeal!

Imagine my embarassment as I, for the first time in my life, actually read another man's neck.

I had indeed, it turns out, committed a serious, albiet inadvertent faux pas......the hirsute gentleman's name was definately, NOT 'Guthro'".

Yep...right there in India black and dripping blood red ink, I could see it clearly.....

This insane lookin' hairy dude's name was ACTUALLY.....

"Cut Throat"

Now I'm certain Miss Manners could have offered a better way out of this breech of biker etiquette but....all I could think to say was.

"Nice Tat dude."

He wasn't expecting that but, then again.... neither was I but.... I've always been quick with my mouth in sticky situations. It's a survival skill which has served me well through the years.

"What did you call me?" he demanded.

Bold as brass, I never even blinked and said.

"Cut Throat" I said quickly but, I made it come out as a slurred, choppy "Cuh-Throw" thus introducing a degree of doubt into his obviously feeble mind.

He looked like a big old hairy puppy hearing one of those high pitched whistles they advertise in the Sunday supplements.

He wasn't quite sure if I had insulted him or not.

Not wanting to let it go, he growled.

"It's 'Cut Throat' bro."

"Listen man...I laid my Sportster down and the handle bar caught me in the throat. Sometimes my words come out funny." I said indignantly.

Even though I had never been on a Harley in my life, I added....

"My Ole Lady died in that one bro."

He thought about that for a second, gave me a sincere look and offered his right hand in one of those patented biker hand shakes.

"Been there bro. We're cool."

Gino had been watching this exchange and gave me a look which told me that he, Gino, wasn't buying my bullshit but, was satisfied that Mr. Cut Throat had.

"Cut Throat and Weed are gonna take your stuff to the clubhouse right now. When are you guys gonna set it up?"

"Whenever you say Gino....late in the morning would be fine." I said.

"Ok, that's good, be there around 3:00."

"In the afternoon?"

He laughed and said,

"Bro, that's as "morning" as I get."

Turns out, bikers and musicians keep similar hours.

The house lights had come up and the place was emptying out quickly.

Even inside the bar, you could hear the roar of numerous Harley's cranking up and performing their obligatory fifteen minute warm up that you could feel in your chest.

Gretchen was standing beside me at the stage where I had retreived my guitars as Gino came up.

"C'mon little girl, we'll follow you home."

Gretchen looked at him and then, looked at me.

"I'm taking him home with me." she said.

"No you're not." he growled, looking at me with a, less than friendly expression.

"Yes I am Gino, I don't wanna hear your shit either."

Side Note:

I had just seen several thousands of dollars of our equipment ride off into the night destined for God knows where in the possession of the Hell's friggin' Angels and NOW....NOW...the behemoth in charge of the situation was getting pissed at me because his little sister wanted to take me home.

Why ME Lord?

Suddenly, he dropped the biker persona as he got close to her and led her by the arm a few feet away.

Evidently, Sasquatch had learned to whisper in a freakin' saw mill because I could hear him quite clearly.

"Gretch....you can't take him to Mom's house! You know she ain't gonna go for that!" he pleaded.

"Mom's in Florida Gino and I'm takin' him home." pointing to me.

He just shook his big old shaggy head and then, re-assuming his biker persona, turned to walk out.

I watched him walk away until he got to the front door and turned.

"Three o'clock bro." he growled.

"I'll be there." I said.

Gretchen and I walked to the almost empty parking lot.

"You want to come to my place?" she asked.

"Anywhere short of hell....yeah." I said.

We agreed that I would follow her in my car.

I realized, after fifteen minutes or so, that we were headed for Seabrook Island, miles away from my place on James Island. We were heading for the land of, as my buddy John C. says...."People What's Got Money"!

A few minutes later, we pulled into a gated community and wound our way down towards the ocean. We pulled into the driveway of a very nice two story house not fifty yards off the Atlantic.

I got out of my car as she was getting out of hers.

"Let's go to the beach!" she said.

I followed her.

We reached the sandy beach as the waves pounded in.

She sat down on the beach and, of course, I followed suit.

We must have sat there for an hour or so during which time I learned that she was not a "biker chick" at all. She was a college student at the University of South Carolina marine biology school. Her family was very 'well to do' and that Gino was the proverbial "Black Sheep" of the family.

He had already been convicted of, and done time, for murder, AND was presently under indictment for two additional murders as well as conspiracy and racketeering.

Jeez...........salt of the friggin' earth huh?

Needless to say.....I really didn't give a shit about Gino's rap sheet but....I had to listen intently so as to insure that, once she had spilled her guts....I WOULD indeed, get laid again.

Hey.....I was a "giver".

To Be Continued....

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Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....and Me

A few years back, I was playing at a club in Charleston, S.C. called The Night Owl with a band called Crystal River.

We played a lot of Skynard, Blackfoot, Bob Segar, Allman Brothers and the like.

One night, we were in the middle of a tune called "Highway Song" when about forty mean assed lookin' biker types came into the club.

From my vantage point on the stage, which was well over six feet tall, I could see them coming through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea straight up to the front of the stage.

One of the biker chicks was wearing a metallic looking bikini top halter thing, which was, semi-covering, a set of hoots that was, to say the very least, IMPRESSIVE. This was in the days before silicone and my eyes were still good!

Call me shallow, call me sexist, call me a Neanderthal, call me any damned thing you wanna call me but I have ALWAYS been vulnerable to ample, well proportioned breasts!

Ok, Ok....to be honest, they don't have to be all that ample OR well proportioned...I just happen to adore breasts!

If I had boobs, you couldn't get me out of the house with friggin' tear gas!

Me, being ME..... I could not for the life of me, resist the temptation to fix my gaze on her for the rest of the song. She was a short, well built, blonde haired and blue eyed doll baby.

Hell, I even went so far as to kneel down on the stage and grab her outstretched hand as I finished the song.

"It's a highway sooooong, goin' on and on..............On and On!"

Dear Lord, that girl was HOT.

As we finished the song, I turned to our keyboard player Tony and grinned.

"Time for a "panty dropper"." I said.

He chuckled and shook his head as if to say,

"Here we go again."

In Honky Tonk parlance, the "panty dropper" is a song which, if done properly, will entice nubile young women to have wild passionate sex with you at some point in time.

"What's it gonna be?" Tony asked.

"Turn The Page" I said. "Biker chicks LOVE Bob Segar."

Tony shook his head and grinned.

"A biker chick? Man, those girls are trouble...I'd be careful about messin' with one of them dude....which one is she?" he asked.

I lit a cigarette and pointed to Gretchen.

"Dear God in heaven.....gimme that fuckin' cigarette!"

Tony hit the lead-in on the Hammond B-3 organ and started playing the intro. I walked over, picked up my Stratocaster and began playing the pulsing E minor.

Magically, as if the gods had held a meeting and decided that, yes, indeed, I WAS going to have sex with this gorgeous woman tonight, she screamed....

"Turn The Page"!!!

I gave her my best, "Yeah darlin', this is just for you" look and launched into the song....

"On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha...."

We made eye contact during the entire song and, when it was over, I told the guys we needed to take a break.

I walked over to the girl and ordered a round of drinks. We talked awhile and the sexual energy was damn near crackling between us. I found out important things such as, her name was Gretchen, she was 23, from out of town, possessed a 38 C bustline and, oh yeah....I almost forgot.....she wanted ME!

I suggested we go outside for a little "fresh air" and she happily agreed.

Side Note:

Keep in mind boy and girls....this story takes place in a time long ago when a person could have have random sex with total strangers without contracting diseases which would kill you.

I feel sorry for the current "Condom Generation".

As a 52 yr old deliriously happy married man, I look back and realize that my behavior was sinful, wicked and immoral but......I wouldn't change a minute of it.

Me and God will just have to work it out when I get to heaven.

Back to the story......

Once outside, she took my hand and led me to a big van with a mural painted on the side. The mural was a depiction of some mutant Harley rider that looked like Thor on steriods.

"Nice van" I said by way of clever conversation.

"Thanks, I call it 'Gino'." she said as she slid the side door open to reveal a bedroom on wheels.

It was really something. This was back when conversion vans were all the rage. Late seventies or early eighties I believe.

She hopped behind the wheel, cranked it up and turned on the air conditioning. It quickly cooled down even in the heat and humidity of a late summer Charleston night.

By the time she slid back to where I was sitting, she had fired up a joint the size of a cigar. She snuggled up beside me and asked,

"So, you want a shotgun?"

Side Note:

For those who didn't spend their younger years partying their asses off, a "shotgun" is a method of delivering a big "hit" of marijuana to another person. It involves putting the lit part of the joint in your mouth and literally "shotgunning" the smoke into another person's lungs.

As stupid as it sounds to me now...it was a very sensual and suggestive act when done with a young woman.

Lips would touch, intimate eye contact was made and, of course...she was in the process of getting as stoned as a nine eyed monkey which, in my opinion, was a Good Thing!

We both took a few hits and, afterwards, she offered me a beer which I accepted.

She went to the little refrigorator, extracted a couple of beers, stood up (she was only about 5'4" or so) and gave me a sexy grin.

She handed me a beer, opened hers and took a long drink.

She then put down the beer and, undoing her little top, unleashed a MAGNIFICENT display of breasts!

All these years later, I'm STILL impressed by what I saw that night! She was a stunning, steel bellied hard body!

It wasn't long before, nature took it's course and we were going at it like Vikings.

Lord only knows how long we were at it but, after a while, I heard someone hollering my name. As I peeked out, I saw our drummer, Larry wandering around the packed parking lot calling my name. We both laughed like crazy at big old Larry wandering around aimlessly with a pissed off look on his face.

"Do you need to go?" she asked knowing damn well the answer to THAT question.

"Goin' ain't exactly what I've got in mind right now." I said

I don't know how much time passed before we finally left the van but, I knew that Bull, the owner of the place was going to be PISSED.

Larry had given up and gone back inside I suppose so, we made our way back to the bar.

Just before we got to the front door, a freakin' GIANT came out of nowhere and literally snatched Gretchen up and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Hey little girl...where've you been? I've been lookin' all over for you." he shouted.

This dude had to have been 6'8" and every bit of three hundred pounds with long black hair and a braided beard which hung halfway down his chest. He was dressed in typical biker leathers with an accessory which stopped my heart a beat.....

He was wearing a holster holding a big shiny pistol in it! In freakin' public!

Actually, I'm pretty sure it was (and maybe still is) legal to wear an unconcealed pistol in South Carolina but it still struck fear in my poor heart.

Gretchen kicked and screamed as the mammoth dude twirled her around.

"Put me down Gino!"

Gino, promptly put her back on her feet gently.

"I'm sorry darlin', I'm just glad to see you're ok. When did you get into town?" he asked sheepishly.

She turned to me and said.

"I just got in this afternoon." she said, "Ron, this is my stupid brother, Gino."

I stuck out my hand which was immediatly slapped aside. Now, at the time, I was 6'2" 220 or so and I've never backed down from a fight in my life but, in that moment, I just knew that I was getting ready to get my ass beat or shot or both.

Wrong.

Gino hugged me like I was his long lost little grizzly bear brother!

"Good to meet bro."

"Good to meet you Gino...thanks for breakin' my ribs."

I swear, he actually hung his head awkwardly.

Gretchen backhanded me across my chest...hard!

"Don't hurt his feelings! He didn't mean to hurt you."" she said.

"Hey dude, I was just kiddin'....you didn't hurt me."

He looked up and with a sly grin that sent a chill down my spine said...

"Not yet anyway."

Gretchen grabbed my hand and told Gino that I had to get back inside.

"Ron's with the band and he's been on break too long." she said.

"Yeah, nice meeting you Gino." I said as I followed her inside.

Once in the building, the owner of the place, a cheerful grandfatherly type named "Bull" Denehey stormed up to me.

"You got two fuckin' minutes to get your ass back up there and play that shit you call music or you're fuckin' fired! These bikers are gettin' restless!" he stormed off without waiting for a response from me.

I looked at Gretchen and saw that she looked a little worried.

"Ain't he a sweetheart?" I asked. "Don't worry about Bull, he loves me."

As I turned to hustle back to the stage, she gave me a kiss.

"Play something especially for me and I'll play something special ON you later." she winked.

Be still my heart.

We played the next set for almost two hours until closing time.

As we were packing up our stuff, Gino came over and shook my hand.

"Bro, we want ya'll to play for us tomorrow night at our place." he growled.

"I really wish we could Gino but, we're booked here again tomorrow night."

"Ya'll need to start around 10:00 and be ready to play till dawn." he said. "It's Gretchen's birthday."

He hadn't even acknowleged what I had said before.

"Gino, I really would love to but Bull will blacklist us if we bail on him on such short notice." I went back to wiping down my guitar.

"I'll settle things with Bull. How much do you guys get?"

I don't remember now how much it was but, I told him and without missing a beat, he upped it considerably.

"Well, if you can fix it with Bull so that we'll still be able to play here in the future...sure, we'll do it but, I've gotta check with the guys." I said, nodding towards Larry, Mike, Bill and Tony.

He looked at me for a second and, as if a light bulb had come on inside his head said,

"Wait right fuckin' here."

I decided it would be wise to wait "right fuckin' there".

With that, he walked over to the guys and within two minutes, they were smiling and nodding their heads.

He came back. I was still "right fuckin' there".

"Well, that's done. Ya'll get packed up and my boys'll get your shit in a truck. We'll take it to our place tonight and ya'll can set it up tomorrow afternoon." he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Look Gino, we can handle that. Besides, our stuff ain't insured so......" I began.

"Fuck insurance Bro...anything gets broke, I'll replace it but don't worry, my boys'll handle your stuff like a baby."

Before I could say anything else he added.

"Now that that's settled, lemme talk to Bull."

He strode off towards the bar where Bull was seated speaking with someone. I watched as Gino cut in between Bull and the poor soul he was speaking with. The other guy got up shaking his head as Gino spoke in an animated fashion with Bull.

After a couple of head shakes by Bull, Gino whipped out a roll of cash and started putting bills on the bar till Bull broke into a smile and they shook hands.

Gino gave me a thumbs up, grinning like a fool.

Larry, our drummer, walked up to me.

"Who the hell IS that guy?" he asked.

"His name is Gino and this is his sister, Gretchen." I said as she came sidling up to me.

"Ohhhhh.....ok." he said with a knowing smile.

"So, where're we playing tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Damned if I know....do you?" I asked Gretchen.

"Sure, it's their clubhouse, it's called the Office Lounge." she told us.

"Clubhouse?" I asked.

"Yeah, the Hell's Angel's clubhouse."

"Holy shit! Are you kiddin' me?" I was stunned and, I'm sure she could see it.

She smiled at me sweetly.

"Don't believe everything you hear big boy...you're gonna LOVE it."

Just then, Bull came storming up...hell, Bull stormed everywhere.

"That hairy Sasquatch lookin' motherfucker just hired you boys away for tomorrow night."

Gretchen got up to within inches of Bull's face.

"What did you call my brother?" she asked.

Bull, not a man to be intimidated asked...

"Who the hell is your brother?"

She turned and pointed to Gino who was standing at the bar.

"He's my brother, he's the chapter president of the Hell's Angel's."

Side Note:

Back then, the Hell's Angel's had a huge organization in the Charleston area and they weren't into the whole Toys For Tot's stuff at the time. Gang murders, drug dealing, cop killings, prostitution and gambling yeah but....none of that charity shit for these bad boys, they were hard core.

Bull swallowed hard and appologized.

"Listen miss, I was just kiddin'...Ron knows me, I'm always jokin' around." he said.

It was actually fun watching the old tyrant breakin' down like a shotgun.

Gretchen looked at him and said.

"It's ok Bull" she said and then looked at me again.

Bull just stood there for a minute until Gretchen glanced at him and said....and I swear.....

"You may leave now Bull."

He left.

"Damn....you're good." I said.

She looked at me with those big blue eyes and said.

"You don't know the half of it."

Oh dear Lord!

To Be Continued.....

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THE GROUPIE FROM HELL...Part III

Ok...let's review...

When last we joined our tale, Lisa, The Groupie From Hell, had just cold cocked a big old Yankee asshole with a beer mug, George didn't get a chance to truly show his ass, John was being an industrial strength smart ass and I was wishing I was dead.

I was astonished that the old Yankee dude wasn't seriously hurt. I was even more shocked when he and his wife simply threw some cash on the table and left without saying another word.

George looked stunned.

"I'll bet the fucker's gonna sue the piss out of me." he said.

John put his hand on George's shoulder and said.....

"Buddy, you'ins need to hire that Lisa girl as a gotdamn bouncer. Ole Patrick Swayze ain't got shit on that bitch!"

"Fuck you John...Where is she now?" George asked, looking at me.

"I'll be damned if I know but I'm gonna go play.....it's safer back there." I said.

As I entered the back room, I looked around for Lisa and, to my relief, there was no sign of her.

I walked up to the stage, grabbed my guitar and sat down on my stool. Just as I turned the sound system on, John came rushing up to me.

"Man, you ain't gonna believe this shit!"

"What?" I asked.

"That crazy bitch is passed out in the parking lot."

"Well good, maybe she'll leave me the hell alone." I was relieved.

"She's layin' out there on the pavement" John had an evil grin on his face.

"So?" I asked.

"Ron, that ole gal is buck fuckin' nekkid!" he was downright gleeful.

"Did you tell George?" I asked.

John looked at me as if I had lost my mind and said....

"'Course not........I seen her first!"

As insane as John was, I knew he was just kidding, at least I think he was.

"John, go tell George and let him handle it before something happens to her."

John threw his hands up.

"You know....you'ins is messin' up ma love life with all your morals and shit!"

After John left, I looked out over the crowd. The place was packed with maybe a hundred people all having a good time. Some regulars, mostly tourists and all of 'em talking amongst themselves.

Now that things had calmed down, I was feeling pretty good and looking forward to playing a bit.

I leaned into the microphone.

"How are ya'll doing tonight?" I asked.

The audience hooted and hollered.

By way of introduction, I used a well worn line I had delivered a hundred times.........

"My name is Ron and I just want to remind ya'll that, the drunker ya'll get....the better I sound so, do yourselves a favor.......drink up."

As the audience response died down and I was just beginning to play.....disaster struck.

A loud drunken female voice called out.

"Play "Montana" damn it!"

Every head in the place turned to see a completely naked Lisa standing in the side doorway.

The place erupted! Everyone was howling and Lisa began strutting around the room as though it was the most natural act in the world.

"Tell 'em how you wrote that song for ME Ron!" she cackled.

She began staggering towards me and the closer she got, the stronger the urge became to rip my eyes out of their friggin' sockets.

Dear God!

She had boobs that looked like three day old party balloons and the rest of her was no better. Stretch marks coursed like a road atlas all over her and she was a pale as a long dead fish.

I'll never forget it. Damn her to hell!

Someone, bless their soul, covered the abomination with a table cloth. I remember thinking that they were gonna have to burn that damned table cloth afterward.

She was totally out of it now. Head rolling around, drooling and the whole time, she was telling everyone that she was MY girl!

"Get your hands off me, I'm Ron's girl. He's gonna play my song for me! Montana, Montana, Montana GOTDAMN IT!"

Over and over and over again.

Side Note: I had written and often played a song called "In Her Eyes" but, for some damned reason, everyone called it "Montana". Yeah, the song mentioned Montana but still.....I've never understood it.

And another thing....it damned sure wasn't written for THAT crazy bitch!!

Anyway.....

Thankfully, George showed up like the cavalry and whisked Lisa away as the crowd applauded.

I chugged a Kamikazee took a slug of beer, lit a cigarette and addressed the crowd.

"I just want ya'll to know that I don't know that woman from Adam's house cat but, after that display, I'm gonna ask her to marry me. I need another crazy assed ex wife to write songs about."

The set went by without any further crazy shit from Lisa.

When I got through, I found George in the other room and he told me that he had barred her from the bar permanently. I asked him what he had done with her.

"I told her damned friends to haul her ugly ass out of here or I was gonna have her arrested."

"Well, I'm glad that's over with." I said.

"Yeah well, I hated to do that to your girl partner but damn it...this is a business. I can't be playin' favorites just 'cause we're friends."

"Fuck you George."

The remainder of the evening went well and a good time was had by all.

Closing time rolled around and last call was announced. People started settling up tabs and leaving the place as George, John, myself and a few other members of The Golden Liver Club hung out at the bar waiting for the patrons to leave.

The real party always took place AFTER hours and I was busy trying to play up to a cute little brunette who had come in late in the evening.

All of a sudden, there was a series of loud BOOMS!

We turned towards the noise coming from the front door.

To my horror, there was crazy assed Lisa repeatedly pounding on the glass and screaming her head off.

The only good thing about the situation was that someone had gotten some clothes on her.

John couldn't resist.

"Hey Ron....yur ole lady's here to take you'ins home."

The cute little brunette shot my a wary look.

I gave her a goofy grin and said...

"Actually, we're seperated."

Hell, it was no use. This just wasn't my friggin' night.

George had put up with all of her antics that he was going to.

He picked up the phone and called the cops.

While we waited for them to arrive, Lisa kept pounding on the door till her hands began bleeding and blood was smeared all over the glass.

Mustering up my courage and, feeling sorry for her... I went to the door.

"Hey girl, you're bleeding. The cops are coming and you might be able to get out of here before they arrest your crazy ass." I said.

She asked me to open the door so we could talk. She promised she would behave herself.

(Anyone who has followed my stories is aware of the fact that I am, a certified moron so....of course....)

I opened the door just a crack.

She whispered something I couldn't make out.

I leaned forward and heard her say...

"Ron, we could be so good together."

"Lisa, I'm sorry but, I'm seeing someone else." I lied, trying to be nice.

She wasn't buyin' it......at all.

She threw her body against the door, catching me by surprise and staggered into the room screaming a brand new mantra.

"I know what it is!" she hollered "You're a gotdamn faggot!"

"Hey ya'll, did you know Ron's a big old queer?"

John looked over at me and said,

"You'ins never asked me out asshole. You don' find me attractive?"

"Fuck you John." what else was there to say?

George, not to be outdone chimed in.

"All these years and you didn't confide in me? Your best friend? I'm fuckin' hurt dude."

"Fuck you George."

Just about then, thank God, the cops showed up. George filled them in and they grapped her. One on each arm.

As they were hauling her out, she got in one parting shot.

She looked at me and screamed like a wounded animal.

"Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me?" at the top of her lungs.

Damn it....I'd had enough! (And, of course, the cops had her restrained now)

I walked over to her and yelled.

"Cause I'm GAY! BITCH!!"

She looked at me with that hideous gash mouthed grin.

"I KNEW it!" she screamed.

Everyone in the joint howled.

The cops took her away, George locked the door and a about a dozen of us sat there drinking till four in the morning.

Every five minutes or so, some smart ass would look at me sincerely and then shout.....

"Why Won't You Love Me?"

Luckily, I was finally able to convince the little brunette that I wasn't really gay so, the whole night wasn't a complete loss but.....to this day when I see some of my old friends, they will, out of the blue, stop and scream.....

"Why Won't You Love Me?"

All I can ever think to say in response is...

"Fuck You"

Welcome to my world.

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