Writer's Workshop

MamaKat's Writers Workshop

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5.) Your friend tells you he can pick up any girl at the bar, no matter what he says. You bet him $100 he can't. Create the world's worst pick up line and send your friend off into the crowd. What happens?

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I actually had this line used on me once... and I almost threw up on the guy that used it...

So... I would arm my friend with this stupid, stupid, stupid line...

"That is a great outfit you have on... it would look great crumpled up on my bedroom floor"

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So... let me set the mood and tone of the fictitous room for ya...

It's a swanky nightclub in LA.

Only the truly fabulous are allowed behind the velvet ropes... while miles of patient

"others" wait at the door, hoping to make it in...

We know the owner of the club... we got there early, scoped out our private cabana, and got the Champagne chilling in advance.

Finally, it's 10:00 p.m., the place starts to fill up, the music is pumping, the women are gorgeous and the men are fierce. My friends and I are enjoying ourselves, dancing, laughing, sipping, not getting drunk... just relaxing and unwinding after a long week of work...

In walks another friend of ours... his name is Chet, but we call him the Nerdmeister behind his back. He's a nice enough guy... but he is a braggart, a one upper, he's done it all, seen it all, been everywhere... type of guy. He wears his shirts tight, silky, and one button too many undone...

he fancies himself Italian, and wears the Italian horn on a too thick chain that nestles in his too thick, exposed, chest hair. He's 100% Polish...so why the horn? We don't know either. He sidles up to our group, thumbs up, pelvis gyrating like Uncle Fred after too much to drink at Cousin Glady's wedding, and he is biting his lip... all at the same time.

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We like him... at work... where he is "toned down"... but out... in public... we tolerate his antics.

Immediately... he starts "dancing' with Sophia, a co - worker, and rubbing his frontal region up and down her side... we see her get visibly nauseous. Chet proceeds to greet every woman in the group this way and while doing so, brags how he can have any woman in the club, with any line, anytime... so we'd all better start lapping him up now... cause the line is gonna get long very soon... Such fun. He. Must. Be. Stopped.

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Me: Hey Chet... get your greasy mess of hair over here... you haven't "danced" with me yet.

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Chet: Well... you got it... here I come... ready or not!

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Me: {{In my head.. NOT!!!!! SSOOOOO NOT!}} Okay, big boy... I've got a bet for ya... so get over here fast... try walking... not that Uncle Fred thing ya got goin' on...

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Chet: Ohhhhh..... She's got a BET for me... what do I win... a night with all the ladies?

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Me: (swallowing my throw up again) Ugh... no silly... Winner gets a $100 bucks!

You game? Wanna... play... Chet?

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Chet: You know me, baby... always game for game!

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Me: Okay, big boy... I'll bet you $100 bucks you can't pick up any woman in this bar with a line I'm gonna tell you to use.

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Chet: NO PROBLEMO BABY! Chetmeister can, and will have to beat 'em off with the proverbial stick... give me the line...

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Me: Okaaaayy... reaadddyyy? You have to say... as your opening line...

"That's a great outfit you have on... it'd look even better crumpled up on my bedroom floor."

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Chet: That ONE! EASY!!! I've been looking for a good time to use that one... I LOVE THAT ONE! Okay... one more sip of my Zima, and I'm off.

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Me: I slap the $100 bucks on the table, and send the little man off to war.

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Girl #1... just stared blankly at him and turned her back to him.

Girl #2 laughed in his face, REALLY loudly.

Girl #3, led him to the restroom by his necklace and left him there alone.

Girl #4...well... her boyfriend didn't like what he said too much and grabbed a little too much chest hair when he went for Chet's collar, and Chet squealed like a baby pig.

Did that stop Chetmeister? Nope.

Girl #5... she was a keeper. She seemed genuinely interested, pressed her body close to his,

carressed his chest over the silky sleazy gray material, and whispered something in his ear.

He glanced over at all of us, and made a face like... "Oh yeah... that money is alllll miiinne!"while biting that stupid bottom lip again.

When she finished whispering... we couldn't believe our eyes... Chet was taking his beloved

shirt off, and handing it over to her. She lunged at him to hug him and handed his shirt to her

friend who was standing directly behind Chet. The friend asked the bartender for a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut giant holes out of Chet's shirt, then threw the shirt onto the crowded dance floor.

The girl was gyrating with Chet until the deed was done, slapped Chet across the face, and told him to fetch his shirt off the dance floor... it didn't look as good as she would have thought... on the floor... so no go. And she walked off.

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Chet...unphased, because that's just the kind of guy he is... came over, holey shirt on, and pulled out a $100 and handed it over to me, and said...

"Gotta work the kinks outta that line... it's a great one... just need to work on my delivery a little better..."

Some people will never learn.

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Chet still lives with his Mother, and their 12 cats.

He prefers beer over Zima's now, and doesn't wear his Italian Horn necklace any longer.

He now wears white jeans, a blue muscle shirt under an electric black blazer, {{Miami Vice style}} when he goes out to "Check out the Ladies". Unfortunately, his waist is now a 44, and his chest hair is all grey.

He aspires to single handedly bring back the "Mullet" hair style, after watching

Adam Sandler in "Don't mess with the Zohan".

Good knowin' ya Chet.