|Listen up, Clydes, I gotta real nice tale for ya, hear. I spent too much time trying to give the dames what they say they want, and I’m here to tell, they don’t know what they want. None of ’em. They’ll tell ya one thing, and soon as ya give it to ’em, Boom! they’re out! While I’m jumpin’ and pawin’ like a puppy going after a chew toy, she’s trying to find the cat who just pissed on the bed.
I get a call from Chicago Tim,. He’s not from Chicago. We call him that on account of how much time he spends with Big Lou’s wife. Big Lou IS from Chicago and we all reckon that’ll be where Tim’s body gets found if Big Lou catches wind. Seems ole Tim has whipped up a shindig at some dive down by the docks. What the Hell, it’s not like I got clients beating down the door to give me money. Bill collector’s the only man comes ’round anymore. I get down there toot sweet and the place is just lousy with hoochie-coochers. One walks by me with a set of gams on her that’d make Chuck Lindbergh park that plane of his for good just to get a peek. Which is what I’m doing. But I don’t even make it up to her knees before she gets scooped up by some GI home on leave.
The next day I get called in to see the big cheese. I’m not worried, not this time. He owes me for not ratting him out to his wife when she hired me to tail him. She suspected he was out on the town with that floozy from Mac’s Tavern. She was right, but I ain’t got no death wish. So now he throws me a bone whenever his old lady goes to visit a friend in Chicago. Thankfully, it’s not the same bone he throws the floozy. This bone’s an open bar at his latest soiree. I like that bone. Six drinks in and I decide a bite is in order. Eight drinks in and I’m on my third trip down the buffet line. The band starts up and people are swinging. Not me, I’ve eaten enough grub to make my belt re-think its career choice. It’s just then I see a dame making her way across the room, as blonde as a field of sunflowers and twice as pretty. Something told me if went traipsing through that field, I’d find plenty of bees waiting to sting me. She pulls up next to me and asks if I’d like to cut a rug. Before I can answer, she takes the plate out of my hand. “Come on, fatso,” she says as she pats my overstuffed belly
I’ve tracked down a hundred a dames in my time. I’ve never failed to find one for a client. For me, though, that’s not in the cards. My last bender had me telling Chicago Tim maybe I should just ship out, find a mountain top like one of them Dolly Llamas. Tim slurred something about a light at the end of the tunnel. Least, I think that’s what he said. With my luck, that light’s attached to something big, ugly and belching. Like the dame sitting by me at Mac’s. I should go around to Tim’s, haven’t seen him since before the soiree at Big Lou’s.
I figure I better get out of here before the steam engine next to me starts looking good. The theater down the street has a show about to start. Might be a gas, and the darkness will be good for the hangover that’s creeping up on me like cheetah stalking an injured gazelle at the watering hole. I plop down at the end of row like a sack of flour dropped by a baker at the end of a long day. That’s when I see her. She was six feet of gorgeous and wore that yellow dress like an over-filled sausage plumping in all the right places. Kosher or not, I think the rabbi would understand. She says, “Hello, come sit next to me you fine fellow.” And up I go. I’ll look for Chicago Tim tomorrow. If I had to guess, he’d be just as dead then as he is right now.
This whole berg is crawling with dames, for what that’s worth. Every Joe on every corner thinkin’ they’re Morey Amsterdam, as if that’s gonna get ’em somewhere. And for everyone one of them, there’s a dozen Betty’s turning ’em away. Ain’t none of them lookin’ to walk on a date. No money, no car, living off Uncle Sam’s pension from the war. That’s no way to pull a bird. Not these birds, anyway. They’re all searching for a way out of here, waiting for opportunity to start knocking, and opportunity damn sure don’t look like any of these bums. Maybe ya used to be something, before you shipped back from the Philippines, where you could stroll own the beach with a C-note and dames’d be on you like dung beetles on a fresh pile.
The phone call was from Harry Blackwell. Did two tours in the South Pacific with that crazy bastard. His brother’s getting hitched up and I’m invited. Anything to get out of Dodge for a few. Days here drag by like a cockroach pulling a ham biscuit across the diner floor.
I couldn’t be more out of place in this monkey suit. You can take the neanderthal out of the saber-toothed tiger skin, but he’s still a neanderthal. The bride walks past, nine kinds of brunette trouble, with legs that go all the way up, just like I like ’em, swishing down the aisle like a koi making its away across the pond. But this fish is already on the hook, and tonight, she’ll be in someone else’s frying pan. I shake the thought and blink the dame out of my head. A bridesmaid, red, long, and dangerous, gives me the eye. I smile back. I’m not stupid. At the reception, she slinks up to me. I like it when they slink. I ask if she wants to dance, she smiles and drops her room key in my drink before slinking back off. The drink’s ruined, but this time, I don’t mind so much.
I could move here, I think on the elevator ride. Nothin’ keeping me back home. ‘Cept maybe Tim. And there’s no way he survived that last trip to Chicago with the big cheese’s lady.
|This here’s a jam for all the fellas
Tryin to do what those ladies tell us
Get shot down cause ya over-zealous
Play hard to get females get jealous
Okay smarty go to a party
Girls are scantily clad and showin body
A chick walks by you wish you could sex her But you’re standing on the wall like you was Poindexter
Next day’s function high class luncheon
Food is served, and you’re stone-cold munchin
Music comes on people start to dance
But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants
A girl starts walking guys start gawking
Sits down next to you and starts talking
Says she wants to dance cause she likes to groove
So come on fatso and just bust a move
You’re on a mission and your wishin Someone could cure your lonely condition Lookin for love in all the wrong places
No fine girls just ugly faces
Some frustration first inclination Is to become a monk and leave the situation
But every dark tunnel has a light of hope
So don’t hang yourself with a celibate rope
Your movie’s showin, so you’re goin
Could care less about the five you’re blowin Theater gets dark just to start the show
Then ya spot a fine woman sittin in your row She’s dressed in yellow, she says “Hello, Come sit next to me you fine fellow.”
You run over there without a second to lose And what comes next hey bust a move
In this city ladies look pretty
Guys tell jokes so they can seem witty
Tell a funny joke just to get some play
Then you try to make a move and she says, “No way” Girls are fakin goodness sakin They want a man who brings home the bacon Got no money and you got no car
Then you got no woman and there you are Some girls are sadistic, materialistic
Lookin for a man makes them opportunistic They’re lyin on a beach perpetrating a tan
So that a brother with the money can be their man
So on the beach you’re strollin real high rollin Everything you have is yours and not stolen
A girl runs up with somethin to prove
So don’t just stand there bust a move
Your best friend Harry has a brother Larry
In five days from now he’s gonna marry
He’s hopin you can make it there if you can Cause in the ceremony you’ll be the best man
You say neat-o, check your libido
And roll to the church in your new tuxedo
The bride walks down just to start the wedding
And there’s one more girl you won’t be getting So you start thinkin then you start blinking
A bridesmaid looks and thinks that you’re winking
She thinks your kinda cute so she winks back And now your feelin really fine cause the girl is stacked
Reception’s jumpin bass is pumpin
Look at the girl and your heart starts thumpin Says she wants to dance to a different groove Now you know what to do G bust a move