We pulled up behind the vehicle that had been leaking propaganda posters as stealthily as a classic Aston Martin powered by an Audi V-10, piloted by some sort of super powered uber being and containing two people whacked out of their skulls on unknown substances can.
Thankfully the guy who was piloting it paid us no mind. Which seemed like a good thing. I had horrible plans in mind for his cargo, his vehicle and him as well. How dare this man disturb my hallucination filled evening with his propaganda!
I stumbled out of the car and wondered why I was having trouble using my legs. I looked to Jon who seemed to be having the same problem, his face had the consistency of a stretch Armstrong doll in the midst of a napalm attack. Flesh seemed to drip down his face as his muscles relaxed in a manner one could charitably describe as unhealthy.
He stared back at me and we communicated by way of telepathy. "Don't worry." he said in a mental monotone. "it's a side effect it'll wear off right about .....now."
Suddenly I was standing and feeling refreshed. Sure the world had turned the sort of colors one usually sees when you give a three year old day glo paints. Of course there was also the fact that a man sized pink dragon was flying after a laughing nymph through the parking lot but once you got past that everything was pretty much back to normal.
Kat meanwhile was looking over the whole scene of the parking. Overloaded with pickup trucks, Camaros of various vintages the odd Toyota and overloaded with the scents of bad cologne, mixed perfumes, high levels of testosterone and advanced Stockholm syndrome.
"Clearly we have come to the right place." Jon said. "I think it's likely we might find the true America here."
"Sadly I believe you're right but first let's set that fuckers truck on fire." I replied reaching into my pocket for a lighter and anything flammable.
Kat intercepted me. "I think that lacks subtlety, let's investigate."
"Your point is valid, if a little less fun." I said and walked up to the truck.
The back of the truck was a marvel of jury rigged engineering. The truck had two large rollers and a feed mechanism for them, behind them was a sloped piece of metal that fed posters into the rollers from a hopper. The whole system seemed to be gravity or momentum fed.
"What are you doing?" Kat asked as I examined the mechanism.
"I'm studying it's hoof prints. I think I have a plan." I said and grinned.
"Is this going to involve the need for fissionable materials again?" Jon asked hopefully.
"Sadly no, and besides that guard at the plant said he's shoot us if he caught us within five miles of it again." I said and got off the bed of the truck.
"Ohh yeah what was the guys name again?" Kat asked.
"I think it was Barry." Jon replied as I walked back to the truck.
"Never mind that." I said having retrieved tools of a dubious nature. I set to work making an addition to the mechanism that rolled out the posters.
"Do I even want to know?" Kat asked. I ignored her question as I set to work, sure some people might find it difficult to weld old type writer letters onto a rolling mechanism while plastered as fuck on purple pills of an unknown nature, but I'm a professional dammit! Don't try this at home.
"Just adding a friendly message to the posters each time they roll through." I replied adding a touch to the last letter I was pressing into the metal wheel with a small gas welder. I waited a moment for the new addition to cool down then ran one of the posters through the device and looked at my handwork. Holding it up for the others to see.
"That's incredibly tasteless." Kat said.
"It's a complete affront to decency and moral order." Jon said.
"So considering the context of all this, what you're saying is, it's perfect." I said and left the poster on the ground.
"Yeah pretty much." Kat said. "Can we go now?"
"Of course not, there is a fine American institution for us to go and examine!" I yelled. "Here we will find all that is good and right in this country right underneath a seedy underbelly created by pathetic monsters." I walked and put the welder back into the car. This being a great American state they would allow me to bring my portable arsenal of weapons with me into an establishment full of liquor, half naked women and men amped up on red bull, testosterone and shattered dreams, but they'd likely frown on a portable acetylene torch.
"You just want to go in and see in and see naked women fleecing the general public." Kat said.
"And you don't?" I replied.
She shrugged. "Okay ya got me, let see what this place has in store for us."
We walked to the door, feeling a bit out of place in my Kilt, bright green shirt and leather vest. Jon as always had dressed for any occasion in Khaki's and black button down shirt. Kat as always had the professional look going on. The black skirt and red top would go well anywhere. In this place she could do probably pull off a school girl look, or dominatrix depending on how she set her hair. Mind you if we could find a true pro to work on her she could go for the full on dreaded school girl dominatrix, but then we'd likely have to fight off hordes of people all trying to get to her and we'd had enough of that back in Salt Lake City.
Yeah you never forget the senior prom.
The doorman at the front looked us all over like beings from another world. "You sure you belong here?" He asked.
"Why wouldn't we?" Jon said. "We're just normal god fearing, folk like yourself."
The man looked dubious, but after a quick pat down and making sure we handed over at least one pistol to Kat (Who has some sort of issue with firearms.) took our five dollar per person cover and let us in.
The Double Douche was lit up on the interior like a Vegas casino designed by Salvador Dali after a long day of taking Xanax and Peyote buttons. The whole place was done in a mixture of red's and pinks. The three stages lit with bright spots to not miss any millimeter of exposed skin on them. The walls were curves reminiscent of sea shells, or maybe that was just the pills I took talking, they seemed to be breathing if I looked closer.
Currently several ladies of different sizes, colors and facial characteristics were dancing. Feigning some sort of sexual act in congress to the music that was playing.
Here we had found the basic format of the American dream mixed with the reality. Here you could pay your fee to see the objects of your own hormonal lusts turned loose in a confined environment where you could see them perform but any attempt to try and reach for them you'd likely get your arm ripped off by the large shaved gorillas masquerading as human beings at the front of the stage. An angry bunch who lived in the shadow of armed men behaving like brain addled fourteen year olds. Caught in dreams forever denied, and wondering what they might do to change that.
Meanwhile we were surrounded by men of various ages, all openly carrying handguns and other weapons with their boners covered under layers of denim. Itself a metaphor for some huge flaw in our collective thinking which had made the last couple of millenia so exciting to read about but a nightmare to live in. It's always the old saying, kill a hundred people in popular culture and all is well, make the mere mention of someone having joyful sex of some sort and suddenly you're promoting unhealthy behavior, or ill morals and some sort of feigned moral decline.
The trade of the place was based on that near mythical sense of energy you feel at the height of arousal, where your mind could rationalize any act of fiduciary foolishness if it got you that much closer to the dream dancing on a stage or offering to bounce on your lap for a four minute classic rock song. Truly we had here American exceptionalism on stage and American Capitalist madness all over the rest of the bar.
Then I saw, her. I knew her, not in the biblical sense sadly, but somewhere in the back of my mind I could tell I had seen her before. If one were to solidify the concept of MILF she would likely be its avatar. She was of average height but with lush curves that spoke of experience she was willing to share. A walking smile of lust ready to show you the things you had been missing. Rich brownish blond hair framed a face made of pure Americana. A mixture of ethnicity's that created something staggering in their uniqueness.
She was finishing up on the center stage as the song from some nameless band lost to seventies over indulgence finished. She wiped down the pole she had worked to within an inch of it's life and walked past the huge shaved gorillas at the front to the dressing area in back.
Which is when I had the flash of memory that connected her face to an identity. She went by the stage name of Fiona, well film name. She had done well for herself in the adult film world back in the 80's. Never reaching the storied levels of fame achieved by others like Nina, Ginger, and Amber but still one of those ones who drew your eye to a box cover and made you take it home. Back then she was cast as the cute girl next door who would kill time between school and work showing some lucky neighbor boy all the things the prom queen would never do.
We had met in the past when she was touring as a feature dancer. Back then actual humans guarded the talent and I was one of them. We talked and chatted back then and had a number of laughs. Then over time she fell off the face of the earth.
Is this the land where former porn stars go to retire? Surely not, she too had to be on some warped mission of chaos. She was far too talented to be working a dive such as this without orders from some higher power.
Clearly I needed to investigate.
"I need a distraction." I said to Jon.
"What?" He asked staring at a young lady who was peeling off a top that seemed to be made of liquid latex painted directly to her skin.
"For fucks sake snap out of it man!" I said and nudged him with an elbow. "We're on a mission here."
"Ohh yeah right, what do you need?" Jon asked looking not at all sheepish.
"I need to get into the dressing room. Get those animals looking the other way."
"On it." he said.
I turned to head toward the dressing room. Where I saw Kat, surrounded by a group of the ladies who worked this club. She was reclining on a couch being fed grapes by one while the other handed her a glass of wine. "Seriously how does she do that?" I asked myself and continued my trip.
Jon meanwhile passed by several young ladies who began to follow him as if he were some sort of pied piper heard above the Foghat song blaring from the speakers. Just as the arousal addled minds of the men gathered here were beginning to wonder where all the girls had gone. The gorillas meanwhile just stared into the crowd waiting for the next chance to snap an arm or bust a jaw.
Which meant no one was watching me as I hit the dressing room door.
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