Comedy Short Stories
The place was dimly illuminated, smelled strongly of week old fry grease and I was having a 3 AM meal served by a toothless waitress. It was amazing how times had changed as it seemed so long ago when I was assisting the British Government's technical department. My career had definitely been sliding of late and the runny eggs on my plate were not improving my attitude. Much to my surprise the waitress had shot me her cancer riddled gums as she thought this may get her an extra nickel added to her tip. I figured that the nickel would give her something to put in her mouth instead of the hand rolled, filter-less cigarette that dangled freely from her lips. I found myself staring so intently that I neglected to ask her for cooked eggs and where my side of bacon had gone.
After sipping eggs from the plate with a straw out of my water cup, I gaged and had to close my eyes to keep them down. This visual display of fortitude must have gained her attention as she shuffled over dragging her deformed foot behind her. She coughed up a bit of phlegm into her mouth and deposited it into a napkin which she pulled from the apron's pocket. A shiver of despair crawled up my spine as I wondered who would be the recipient of the used napkin. She was soon at my side looking intently at me as she spoke. "What else can I get you honey?" I stumbled with my response as I couldn't stop staring at her gums and cleft lip. "I was really looking forward to my bacon cooked extra crispy. Do you think it's ready yet?" Her smile turned to a grin and to my surprise a dimple exposed itself on her left cheek. "Why certainly honey, let me track down that cooked up piggy." I was starting to question if this late night dinner was exactly what I needed due to an early morning the next day. Thankfully my mind distracted me long enough as a plate of extra crispy bacon landed in front of me. I looked up and smiled at my waitress as she lumbered off to help a bearded man at one of the tables.
My mind stopped working while my taste buds enjoyed the bacon and it seemed like hours of peaceful bliss. This euphoria soon pasted as my double order of bacon disappeared and my ears attention diverted outward again. I realized that the waitress was deep in conversation with me about how she ended up in such a small town. My head seemed to be nodding subconsciously as I tried to make sense of her story. My eyes scrunched a little as her speech impediment produced slurred S's and R's. This difficulty would prove to be severe as the reason for her stop in this town was to work at SSR. As it turned out, this was the Super Sleek Ranch at the edge of town that would put on shows of an odd nature. Apparently there was a genre of the population that enjoyed seeing cleft lipped, cigarette smoking aging women with club feet doing pole dancing. The slurring of her speech made it difficult to pinpoint all the details, but suffice to say, I was able to get the general idea of the dancing ranch.
Thankfully another patron yelled from across the room and she shuffled off leaving my bill on the counter. I got up and left a handful of change for her as I figured bills would make her relapse and join back up with the troop at the SSR. I was stunned that the bill was under five dollars and that the coffee was included in the base price of the meal. I was happy to pay Earl at the cash register and thanked him for the prompt service. Not that I was surprised, but he corrected me and said his name was Phillip. Apparently the embroidered name of Earl on his restaurant shirt was from a prior employee. I grinned and apologized for my mistake as I made it out the door and to my tiny rental. The car soon found its way onto the darkened road and I was on my way to locate the hotel. There was not much to look at after I departed the roadside cookery and settled in for the short ride. My eyes were surprisingly clear as they surveyed the road ahead and I figured that the coffee was the reason behind it. It was only minutes later that I saw the hotel and guided the car in that direction when a great gleaming light came into view. This building was as brilliant as a car dealership and at first glance appeared to be so. My thoughts were soon corrected as the sign came into view and it consisted of three letters placed precariously down a pole. It was the SSR and of course it was right across the street from my hotel. I pulled into the first parking space and gathered up my laptop bag and suite case. After locking the car and double checking my lights, the hotel's lobby was soon reached and a cheery employee stood smiling at my arrival. I told her my name and hoped that my room was still available as I didn't know if they had received my late check in request. My heart leapt a bit as she told me the reservation was in the system and my room was ready. As I turned to head for the old wooden stairs, she stopped me to apologize up front for the lights at the SSR. I was not thrilled that my room would be facing the intense lights and was informed, after my question of relocation, that the hotel was full. I shrugged a bit and headed up the stairs to the third floor.
The room was very small with a tiny bathroom that I originally thought was a closet. This was quickly dismissed as there was a coat rod near the window with coat hangers secured tightly as if someone would want them. I soon relaxed on the bed and flipped on the TV which to my surprise landed on a hotel channel with a rather interesting advertisement. It was for the SSR across the street. I watched for a few minutes before I realized that the name of the hotel I was staying in was the SSR Hotel Bar and Grill. I shook my head as it never dawned on me that the hotel was affiliated, but it was OK as the bed was rather comfy and I didn't want to drive around for another hotel. As my mind began to unwind and the images of the toothless waitress dissolved, the advertisement started again from the beginning. I soon found my attention peaked as there was a special guest by the name of Fluffy Lowballer. It sounded just like an exotic dancer's name, but there was one nagging question in my mind. Since this establishment specialized in strange and exotic dancers, what was Fluffy? The advertisement didn't give any more detail other than she was a special guest and SSR had been trying to get her for many years to perform. I let out a loud sigh, put on my shoes and grabbed my card key as I headed out the door.
I am not sure what came over me as I never visited exotic establishments but this was different as Fluffy Lowballer had to be something special. As I approached the front of the building, the parking lot was packed and I knew I was in for a treat. The cover was twenty dollars and I wasn't sure if that was good and didn't question it as the security guard was larger than my car rental. The smoke in the building was overwhelming and obscured my site for a few minutes as my eyes didn't want to focus. It didn't take long to figure out that the center stage was the place to be as all the inhabitants of the establishment were huddled there. I was able to find a table fairly close to the stage which had three well-spaced poles. From the loud talking and rumblings of the patrons, Fluffy would be on the stage in mere minutes. My stomach was in a bit of a knot as I didn't know what to expect as the lights dimmed and the stage was illuminated through the smoke. The standard exotic dancing music started so that the crowd began to sway and clap in excitement. Moments later someone or something made its way to the stage, but I couldn't make out what as everyone was standing obscuring the stage and the sight of Fluffy. I must have looked like a crazy person as I moved my head violently to the right and left trying to see on the stage. After several minutes and a sore neck, I soon found myself moving closer to the stage to see what I was missing. It was at that moment that I realized Fluffy Lowballer was a midget pole dancer.
The next morning was difficult as I only had about thirty minutes of real sleep. I gathered my laptop bag and suite case as I departed the room. My trip to the airport would be a long journey, not to mention the lengthy flight afterwards. As the miles ticked away on the odometer of the car, my mind wondered back to Fluffy and how in the world she could suspend herself that high on the pole.