A Good Set …

Jan 17, 2013 by     Comments Off on A Good Set …    Posted under: Adam Drew This, Adam Wrote This, Fiction

I wrote this quick story, inspired by this cartoon I did, which came from a calendar that’s a gag gift from some friends.  Long story, but it’s from a Hooters-style bar called “Twin Peaks.”  Hanging up my new calendar, I am struck by the oddity of all this.  Maybe it is that Hawkeye Initiative site … or being a father. I am at this weird juncture of “That girl is hot!” and “I hope my daughter doesn’t get one of these jobs.”

Strangely, I thought of myself applying for a job at a place like that, like SNL skit where Chris Farley competes against Patrick Swayze for the last spot on the Chippendale’s Dancer squad.  And sometimes I just have to get a bad idea out to move on.  So, I present to you …

A good set of tits will only get you so far.

Bob was trying to hold in his gut while balancing two trays loaded with bar food and beer. He hated that he was sweating … none of the other applicants were sweating. They all looked sexy and calm in their tight and barely there jungle-girl uniforms. Bob shivered … he couldn’t remember ever having this much skin exposed in public. The leopard skin bikini did do wonders for his man-boobs though.

The restaurant manager for “The Rack” held up a stopwatch. “Aaaand BEGIN,” she shouted starting the clock. Bob hustled to his tables trying to get ahead of the girls. The restaurant was full of test-diners who would be rating their performances. Bob was flawless. He got to his tables first, engaged in witty banter while serving up the piping hot food and not spilling a drop of beer. He even dealt easily with what he surmised were additional staged events … a customer choking on ribs, a child puking, and an unbalanced table resulting in broken mugs and plates of food. With a smile and some easy jokes, Bob flawlessly performed the Heimlich, erased evidence of vomit, wiped away tears with a lollipop, and cleaned, repaired and reordered food. Bob was nailing it.

Bob stumbled into his apartment in a daze. He threw his performance reviews on top of the stack of overdue bills. He slumped in his chair and turned on the tv to get his mind off it. “Nice tits.” That was his best review.

His gaze wandered over to his calendar…”The Rack” calendar. Kelli, a busty blonde bombshell for January, smiled at him. He scowled. He was a fool to try out to be one of “The Rack” girls. Er, boys. Bob just loved that place soooo much. He wanted to be there all the time. It felt more like home than this dump. Anyways … the comments from the customers never failed to remind him that he was too old, too fat, and too … well … too much of a man for such a job. Even his banter, which he was very proud of, was criticized … his demeanor was called everything from “invasive” to “out of touch” to “creepy.”

Bob was beaten. He had been out of work for too long. His money was gone and the bills were going from polite reminders to threatening. Kelli from the calendar just kept smiling. It was infuriating.

Or was it. Kelli wouldn’t put up with this. She’d start jogging and working on her people skills. Kelli would get busy “Getting Strong Now”…That was it. Bob turned off the tv and grabbed his shoes. He kissed January Kelli on the way out the door.


The manager for “The Rack” was startled to see Bob again. She wouldn’t have recognized him. The shlubby guy with the five o’clock shadow was gone, replaced with a fit, trim Adonis. But of course she knew him … Bob was the only man who had ever applied for the waitress job. She reluctantly agreed to let Bob try out again. She was worried for him …

Bob slammed the door. He was angry. Or was he sad? He was a mess. He had fixed everything he could about himself…he was in great shape with a nice tan. He had borrowed money (again) from his long suffering uncle to go to a tailor…his clothes were new and fit like a glove. He had been careful to interact with customers only the way they wanted…some needed jokes, some needed advice, some needed to be left alone. He had changed. But still, the notes were the same…he was still old. And still a man. He looked up. C.J., a busty brunette for June, smiled at him. He wasn’t sure what C.J. would do. I mean … she wasn’t old. And clearly … not a man.

Bob’s phone rang. He was grateful his uncle had put him on his cell phone plan, otherwise Bob wouldn’t have a phone at all. Bob answered. It was the manager from “The Rack.” She had an idea.

Bob smiled as his customer gasped, “It really does taste better!” Bob had learned how to pour Guinness the proper way, letting the beer breathe for a bit before filling the last 1/3rd of the glass. He even made the harp design in the foam. It took longer, but it was worth it. Bob hustled to his next customer at “The Rack”. He was working the bar and loving it. Sure, he didn’t get to wear the jungle-girl uniform … but the manager had come up with a compromise. Bob looked great in his Lord of the Jungle loincloth.

So that’s it. It is out of my system. Back to Brian’s backlog of stories with robots. And vampires. Not together. (Actually … that should be the next story … a robot that is so human it fools a vampire. Vampire breaks teeth trying to suck robot’s neck …)

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