Bad Dates Texas Style, part 2

Ok, so before I so rudely interrupted myself last week, I was telling the story of Shan and my ill fated trip to The Longhorn in Texas.



Shan and I had just joined the "private club" and went to the closest bar to get beers. (MMMM Good, good beer!) We decided to do a lap before committing to a location. We wove our way around the dance floor, the second bar, the pool tables and the dart boards before deciding that the second bar was the most promising location. Perfect timing, too, as we were just draining our beers.



When we went to get more drinks, we were approached by two guys in their early 20's. They looked like typical east Texas guys: boots, plaid button up shirts, Wranglers with Skoal tobacco in the back left pocket, crew cuts. The blonde guy spoke first.



"Hey," he drawled, "my name is Scrotum."



Shan and I stared back, flabbergasted.



"Your NAME" Shan replied, "is SCROTUM??"



"Gee," I snickered, "That's subtle."



"Let me get this straight," Shan continued, "you are trying to convince us that your MOTHER named you SCROTUM. Why would she hate you so much when you were just born?"



Scrotum's friend stepped in. "No, not really. That was....a joke. Yeah, he's always making jokes. His name is really Kyle. I'm Lyle" (their names really didn't rhyme, but it's funnier that way)



"Ok. Nice to meet you." Shan and I turned to do another lap before committing to another location.



Lyle stopped us before we left. "Hey, could we ask you a question?"



"Um, sure."



Kyle (aka: Scrotum) took over: "Are you two..." he gestured between the two of us with his beer. He leaned in. "LESBIANS?" he finished in a stage-whisper.



Lyle stood behind Kyle, looking like a labrador retriever waiting for us to throw the tennis ball. "Do you know what lesbians are?"



I burst into laughter, spewing Kyle and Lyle with a mouthful of beer.



"Well, that's really two questions, isn't it?" replied Shan. "To answer -- (1) yes, we both are familiar with the term lesbian. We lived in big cities before moving here. We've seen many lesbians in our travels. I'm friends with a few..."



"As am I!" I interjected.



"...but no, neither one of us is, in fact, a lesbian, to answer your second question. Will that be all, gentleman? Good." She grabbed my arm and pulled me away before Kyle or Lyle could ask any more inane questions.



Then we just decided to keep doing laps for the rest of the night, laughing and waving at our friends every time we passed the second bar. During one of the laps, Lyle had a moment of bravado.



"Hey!" he said. "You girls want to get out of this lame place? We have a fishing cabin about 20 minutes away. We could go there and party!"



I fielded this one: "Thanks for the offer, but no. That sounds like a very, very bad idea."



Kyle reeled forward. "WHORES!" he shouted. Lyle spun him around and lead him back to the pool tables.



The smart thing to do at this point would have been to leave. Immediately. But I had finished three beers and Shan had downed four. Neither of us were in any condition to drive. We needed to stay long enough to sober up. As it turns out, that was enough time for things to get much, much worse.



to be continued....