Glandoff

CW: Use of Homophobic Insult

.

.

I spied a “come hither” finger from a wiry old man with a lazy eye, sucking a glowing blue vape. He exhaled a plume of smoke around his long, misshapen head and looked a lot like a smushed Gandalf. I decided to talk to him. As I was walking over, my friend Mariah stopped me.

Her: Be careful with him. He’s crazy.

Me: What kind of crazy?

Her: He a freak.

Me: Hmm. Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful.

He wanted a single, which isn’t usually what I like to sell, but I didn’t have to talk him into it, so I figured I might as well. I led him upstairs to the single dance area. He wanted the booth farthest from the bouncers, red flag number one. He sits down and I sit on his lap to start the dance. As soon as I sit he starts writhing under me, thrusting his pelvis up to the point where my feet are off the floor and I’m grabbing onto the booth walls to avoid falling. Then the dirty talk whispering started.

Him: I want you to fuck me with a strap on. I want you to fuck my man pussy. You’re getting this old faggot so hard. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re turning this old faggot on.

I liked the specificity but I had so many questions. The man knew what he wanted and this was years before Broad City brought pegging into the conversation. While I was being jostled by knockoff Gandalf, deep in his pegging fantasy, I needed more information about his word usage.

Me: Are you gay?

Him: What?! I’m not. I’ve never been with a man! I like women. I like pussies. Why would you think that?

Me: You said you’re a “faggot,” so I was confused.

Him: I just want to get fucked in the ass with a strap on. See how hard I am?

I had to hand it to this old guy. He had a cartoonishly large boner poking through his sweatpants. Boner pills are miraculous, raising the dead.

Him: I just want to bring you home and have you fuck my face. I’ll give you $300 to fuck my face, I’m just down the road.

I hopped off of his lap and finished the rest of the dance hovering over him instead of getting locked into his surprisingly strong old man grip.

Me: Wow, just down the road? That’s so convenient. Sadly, $300 is nothing to me.

Him: Oh well. I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.

“If I change my mind”

What could cause me to change my mind?

In an alternative universe, Glandoff casts his summoning spell and I stop in my little hoe tracks. I whip my head back to look at my suddenly beloved wizard. A violin plays in the background. My eyes and tongue pop out of my head while the “ah-woo-ga!” horn-honking sound effect plays. I realize, all I’ve ever wanted in my life is to have my pussy eaten by a bridge troll. I stride over to the wiz. He takes me by my hand, and we glide out of the club together, off to happy little roadside shack on the horizon, at the center of a pink heart. The door swings open and woodland creatures greet me saying, “Welcome home, princess!” Blue birds fly in carrying the sheets for the bed and squirrels bounce on the pillows to fluff them for us. All the while, the shack door slowly closes upon our idyllic fairytale scene.

And then I’m murdered.