using the super powers of booty for good (not evil)
I went in, and noticed that there seemed to be a whole hell of lot of people milling about, and a sene of unease in the air. I walked up to the librarian and started to tell her my tale when I heard a guy behind me yelling, “Y’all are a bunch of fucking pussies!”
Wow. Not your usual library experience, that’s for sure. The librarian was obviously angry as hell, and the little old lady that had come in behind me looked very frightened. I scanned the room and noticed a large group of younger black guys all kind of laughing and standing close together, and the one guy who was breaking every cardinal rule of libraries was an older (my age) black guy, waving his arms around and weaving and ducking to avoid the security guard who was trying half heartedly to escort him out.
To avoid any potential feelings of racism here, let me clarify- I have no problem with black people. I have no problem with black men. I DO have a problem with a drunken asshat yelling obscenties in a public library where children and elderly people are about, causing extreme distress to a whole hell of a lot of people, myself included.
The security gaurd was a tall white guy who was quite obviously frightened of the man. It was obvious he had issues with black people, because the man himself wasn’t being very scary, just a lot of huffing and puffing, doing that thing that all men do when they want to put on a show of bravery- beating their chests and making a lot of noise.
I could take that guy down. For real. Security guard, you are a wuss. I guess that’s why you work at the library.
Anyway, he’s trying to escort the guy out, but the guy would get outside and then spin around, come back in yelling and the crowd of teenagers would all pack up and laugh at him again. I realized later they were taunting him, but I had missed the whole interaction up to that point.
The librarian did whatever to my card, and I just sat right down next to the show, wanting an easy access seat in case things got out of control. With a “guard” that was worthless, I wanted to be nearby. Yah, I’m severely damaged, but if it came down to that guy randomly smacking people or worse, I was staying close to that little old lady. If he got too close I wouldn’t have minded taking his ass out, no matter if it landed me in the hospital with a morphine drip. The pain and agony of the last month have been hellish, and if one unfortunate bastard became the deserving target of my pent up rage and frustration, so be it.
The librarian barked at the guard to get the guy out, and the guard lamely said, “I’m trying, I can’t get a hold of him.” I don’t know who he thought he was fooling, but I’m betting he doesn’t have a job anymore. Another guy came out of nowhere, a short stocky Italian looking guy with a Brooklyn accent, walking like a bulldog and told the yelling guy to get the hell out. The guy kept yelling, “Don’t you fucking touch me! Don’t none of y’all fucking touch me!” and ducking away from them while trying to get closer to the pack of teenage boys.
He finally walked towards the door again. BINGO- I jumped up and followed directly behind him, and just as he got to the doorway he spun around again to come charging back in but instead found himself face to face with a pretty girl.
Me. He nearly walked smack into me. I gave him my biggest, most charming smile ever and said, “Hi,” in that coy way that makes all men, regardless of whatever was happening in their brain a second ago, suddenly switch into their primal base urges and think, “I could fuck her.” And just like that, he was disarmed.
He startled, smiled, and I kept walking, turning my head to look at him, urging him to walk on with me. And being the predictable man that he was, he grinned and followed me.
We got a few more steps and he stopped. He remembered he was pissed and said, “Did you see that shit?!” He looked back into the library so I reached out my hand and gently touched his arm. “No,” I said, wide eyed and supportive, “what happened?” I moved further out the door and he got pulled along, the magic of the gentlest of touches on his arm.
Once we were outside I let go of his arm and said, “I just came in. What happened?” He gave me the story, although I can’t say I understood half of what he said. Some of it was the lingo I was unfamiliar with, and some of it was the fact that he was pretty drunk. He was doing the crab side-step that drunks do to maintain balance.
He told me his tale and started getting worked up again, so I once again touched his arm and said, “They’re just kids. Nothing is going to happen to them but get kicked out of a library, YOU, however, are a grown man.” (He gave a bashful smile) “YOU will end up in jail. The cops are right up the street and I heard them calling them. If you go back in there, they’re going to arrest you. Are a bunch of punk assed little kids worth that?”
He looked like maybe he thought they were, and said something about “popping a cap in they ass” and some more macho crapola, and I moved so that he was facing the parking lot, not the doors anymore. Then all he had to look at was me. (laughs) I’m so slick.
Without the reminder of the library, he was suddenly all smiles and started laughing. I talked to him for a good ten minutes, laughed when he started laughing because he realized he was staring at my boobs, and kept being just flirty enough to not be making any sort of promises but enough to keep his attention. I could see the security guard walking around the outside of the building, trying to make it look like he was watching out for ME. Ha. I slyly waved him away. He left.
After a few minutes the guy remembered he was pissed off again and just spun on his heel and went marching back to the doors. I yelled, “DUDE!” He spun again (a good spinner, for a drunk guy) and just stared at me, grinning. “Did you just…call me….dude?” he said. I laughed, because it was important to keep him laughing. He started walking back to me. He started laughing, too. He asked me again, once he was closer. “For real, did you just call me dude?” I just laughed and laughed, oh isn’t this a good time we’re having, and said, “Well, I mean, DUDE. You were about to walk back INSIDE the library! Where you will get arrested! What else was I supposed to say? Dude.”
He laughed and laughed, and I turned to walk towards my car. I smiled over my shoulder, “Just stay out of that library, ok?” and I shook my ass in the way that only girls with ass can do, I swung while I walked even though it caused me excrutiating pain to do so, but I did it for the good of the library. It’s for the good of the library, damn it! How often can you say you shook your ass for the good of the library and a sweet little old lady? I mean, really? Dude.
“Hey!” he yelled after me. I turned, smiled, and walked back. I knew we weren’t done, oh no. He hadn’t left the sidewalk yet, so he was still a threat, and I knew seeing the pretty girl shaking her fine ass as she walked away would bring his attention back to where it belonged. My ass. His optimisim at getting laid. Most importantly, his brains ability to over rule his own anger and refocus on something it found FAR more important than his ego. The desire for pussy.
I got back up to him and he said, “So, uh….” and grinned like a bashful schoolboy. “Yes?” says I, ever smiling. “So, um, you wanna be friends?” he asks.
I cocked one eyebrow at him saucily and said, “Define….freinds.” He laughed, and then looked at his feet. Finally he looked up and said, really fast, “You know….” and something about “sexual participants”. I cracked up, not at his question, but because he was BLUSHING. It was so cute. The whole fucked up situation aside, it was just so damn cute.
“No can do,” I said. He looked hurt. “What, you don’t like black guys?” (Oh, leave my fantasies out of this!) I smiled at the thought I wasn’t speaking out loud and said, “Oh, I have nooooo problem with black guys. It’s that,” I held up my left hand and showed him my oh-so-blingy-in-the-sunshine wedding rings, “I’m married.”
His answer? “Me, too.” He laughed. I laughed, although totally repulsed, and said, “Well, obviously you don’t take that very seriously. I do.” He said, “Oh yah?” and I said, “Yah! I’ve got a damn good thing, and I’m not about to fuck it up.” I leaned it, confidentially, and said quietly, “I am HOOKED UP. I don’t even have to work. I’ve got it MADE, baby.” Like, I got me a sugar daddy, see? You see all those rocks? You think you can compete with all that?
He lowered his head, knowing he was beaten, and said, “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.” I smiled, sincerely, and said, “No. No, you can’t. Now…stay out of the fucking library, you here?” and turned to walk away.
As I got in the car, I saw another guy come out of the library and grab onto the guys arms, friendly-like, and they walked off down the street.
Oh, yah. Getting to use The Power of Ass for good. It was fucking great. I wanted to go back in and tell the security guard I had something he didn’t: ASS. But I didn’t.
Nor did I correct the guy every time he called me, “Shorty.” I was taller than him by a good three inches at least.
I mean, DUDE.
