The tranny at the bar

I walked into the bar around 11 on a Tuesday night. The bar has a special on Tuesdays, which is 25 cent Natty Light draws, so the place was packed with twentysomething college kids. I was there because Tuesdays are my days off, I was bored, and I wanted beer.

I strolled up the the actual bar and said my hellos. I knew the bartenders, John and Brooke, because I work across the street. The jostling of the crowd and the noise drowned out any real attempts at conversing with the help. Instead, I ran into a couple of my weekend regulars, guys who routinely come in to drink cheap and hit on girls.

"Did you see her?" Jordan, the tall, spikey blond guy asked.

"Who?"

"This chick with giant tits."

I glanced around. There wasn't exactly a dearth of large breasted women around.

"What about her?" I asked.

"She's not a she. But she has great tits."

Jordan and his friend wandered onto the back patio to continue to scope out the scene. I resumed my position at the bar and ordered another bottle of beer.

Soon, a tanned brunette with what can only be described as too-big-to-be-real boobs in a tiny white wifebeater came up and stood around the corner of the bar to me. Something was a tad off-putting about her. Maybe it was the heavy eyeliner. Maybe it was because her nipples were about to poke through the thin cotton of the shirt. Mostly, though, it was because she kept eyeing me and posing. She kept arching her back and standing in various positions, constantly turning to show off her chest at different angles.

It was a little disconcerting. The direct eye contact had me constantly moving my gaze from place to place. The absolute trainwreck was fascinating. I glanced at John, the bartender. He gave me a look that said "what the fuck?" Pretty soon, when it became obvious that I had no interest in conversing or paying any more attention to her than I was, she moved on. I watched as she kept looking at other men, winking at them.

Sure enough, there was a group of guys who had wandered in behind me, and one of them thought he had an easy target. He went up to her and gave her his best lines.

I kept watching.

Soon, they started putting their heads together, and I saw her say something into his ear. He stood straight up, as though shocked by an electric current. He backed away, then turned to his friends and started yelling, "She's got balls! She's got balls!" at the top of his lungs.

He ran (and I mean literally, ran) back to the safety of his friends, yelling "She's got balls!" the whole way. I glanced back at the now outed tranny. She gave a visible shrug, as if some drunk dude screaming out about her (his) genitalia was no big thing.

I immediately grabbed my phone and texted one of my best friends, a lesbian I used to work with. I knew she would get a kick out of this.

At the bar, I wrote. Tranny here.

Get pics! was the reply.

I worked the camera option on my phone. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make anything out.

Too dark, I replied.

Just remember don't go home with the tranny ho! she replied.

Lesbians.

I decided to pay my tab and head out. As I left, I turned around to see the tranny had been engaged in conversation with a drunk girl, no doubt because the girl was impressed by the tranny's choice in clothing.

It was time to go.

So just remember the immortal words of my friend- don't go home with the tranny ho!

Story?

There are many ways to die. Sean had seen almost all of them.

Back in Iraq, in 1991, Sean had been backing up the British SAS who were looking for Saddam's Scud missiles. At the time, they were raining down on Israeli cities and so the locating and destruction of them was a top priority. Sean and his fellow Rangers were in the deserts of western Iraq, looking (mostly unsuccessfully) for the mobile launchers. One would think that such a flat, featureless place would be difficult to hide a giant truck with a huge missile on the back. One would be wrong.

The desert is huge. Dotted with small, unknown villages, it is easy to get lost in. Usually the Iraqis would hide the trucks behind a building, covered in camo netting, and if it didn't move, it couldn't be spotted.

The Rangers came up on a such a village in the middle of the night. A lone dog barked, then quietly crept away. The Rangers spread out, silently going through the village, checking the buildings and looking out for Iraqi soldiers.

Sean was on point for his squad. As he stopped at the corner of a building, he checked around the edge and saw the tail fin of a missile. The wind had blown the edge of the netting over the fin, and had exposed the missile.

To be continued...

Tuesday night ramblings

Maybe I need more sleep. Maybe I need to just relax and let things happen. Of course, doing that my whole life really hasn't netted much in the way of positive things. I do believe that the time has come to grab the bull by the horns, metaphorically speaking, and start to take control of my life.

OK, so I know I want to write. In what way? Fiction, of course. I think the best way is to start writing a story, any story, and get the sucker published. That's always the hardest part. Once I get that, though, I can start building a resume of published work, and eventually, I will be what is known as an author. And that, my friends, is what I'm really looking at.

I have a book that details how to get started on this, and tomorrow I'm going to re-read it and start taking it seriously. Hopefully, I can get something published around town, to start off with. Building a foundation is never easy, and I've been slacking off for too long. The time is now. It's the only way I can do what I want to do and make any kind of money doing it.

Until tomorrow.