Putting the 'Crow' in Croquet...
When I was a Devil going through his late teenage years, I wanted money. No, to be honest I wanted both money and a social life, and the opportunity to talk with pretty girls. So I got myself a job at one of Halstead’s premier drinking establishments, and so began 6 years of working bars the length and breadth of the country. Well, Essex and West Yorkshire, but you get the point.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m rubbish at approaching women in bars or clubs. But put me behind the pumps and I’m like a different person; I’ll flirt along with the best of them. Occasionally – very occasionally – I would end up trading numbers with girls at the bar, and thenceforth nature would take its course.

One such girl was S. Lovely, she was, if a little Essex. You know: the sovereign ring, the bleached hair, the screeching voice of a harridan. We went on a couple of dates and eventually ended up on my bed having a bit of a kiss and some strictly on-top-of-the-clothes-and-don’t-you-even-think-of-heading-down-there fumbling. After a couple of hours she gets up to leave and I, with blue balls, was left to my own devices. At the door, she turned to me and said, through a cloud of Lambert and Butler:

“I love you.”

Well. Bugger me sideways with a spork. Two dates, a bit of fumbling, and she’s in love with me. I’m good. But raise the alarm. Marshal the troops. Get the big thing that goes “DANGER! DANGER” going. We’re in trouble lads. Phone Houston, let them know. You see, although S was fun, I wasn’t really in to her any more. And, in my 18-year-old wisdom, I thought the best way to let her know this was to behave like I didn’t know any better.

It came around to the following Friday evening. I was working the late shift and, at around 1am, I was doing a glass run. I turned from the bar to find a girl behind me who seemed to be using my leg as a sort of stand in scratching pole. And she had a scratch in her special places, judging by the eagnerness with which she was rubbing it against my thigh. I gave in to temptation. I had a little boogie. And, just as my lips locked with this enigmatic beauty, I saw S.

She stood at the end of the bar, wearing a long black coat, black boots, black trousers and a black top. In short, she looked like the fucking Crow. Her hair hung over her face, and she glowered at me. From where I was, I could actually feel the hatred radiating from her. She turned on her heel, and walked out.

In my (admittedly bastardly) mind, I thought “Mission Accomplished!”, and returned to my work. Two hours later, I had cleaned, locked up and was heading home. Stepping out in to the rain of the early morning, I unlocked my car, clambered in, and started sorting out a CD. Turning on the engine, I flicked on the lights and put the car in gear.

WHAM!

“What the fuckity fuck fuck FUCK?” I screamed. Looking to my left I saw a rain-soaked S, winding up to strike the side panel of my car door with the Croquet Mallet from the games lawn (how very middle class, being attacked by a Croquet Mallet?).

“YOU WHAM BASTARD WHAM !”

In my haste to get out of the car, I’d left it in gear. So, as I kangarooed across the car park, I was pursued by a soaking wet, emotionally unstable girl beating seven shades of shit out of the vehicle. I rammed my foot on the clutch, stopped the car, relocated the gear, floored the accelerator and got the hell out of dodge. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I saw her charge in to the street after me, brandishing the mallet and screaming like a banshee.

(Time for the Moral of The Story. The girl I had kissed on that night was, as it turned out, married. Word got back to her husband of our little kiss, and he paid me a visit a week later. I did escape being put through a leaded window, but did not escape a damned good pasting. I probably got what I deserved though.)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:43, 9 replies)

That all sound a bit harsh
so...for kissing 2 girls you got your car vandalised and physically assaulted?

Jeesh
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:46, closed)

With a track record like that....
....I'd give up.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:52, closed)

Thats's really unfortunate
I once got decked by the local friendly neighbourhood psycho who got it into his head I'd played away with his missus when I'd done nothing of the sort.

Bit harsh I felt.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:54, closed)

Y'see
I just don't think that's fair. If she was married and you didn't know that at the time, you should never have been on the receiving end of that violence.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 15:55, closed)

@ Fister
Haha... Nah, i just got more careful. Got the right one now, getting married next year and so far no psychotic episodes! :)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 16:02, closed)

i say!
leaded windows... croquet mallets...

are you prince phillip
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 11 Jun 2008, 17:08, closed)

You did say "Crow..."


Sorry, I realise this is an inappropriate response. But there is something comical, in a harsh, slapstick kind of way, about the story. It must be the way you tell 'em. Though to think that actually happened to you, you have my sympathy.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 12 Jun 2008, 10:22, closed)

^*grins*
That's entirely appropriate. I like it! :)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 12 Jun 2008, 11:21, closed)