松涛館 and the ragged tiger

We were occupying the entire park bench when the strange girl approached. She was strange in the sense that we had never seen her before; in the grand scheme of things she was not all that strange. I mean, she was wearing bellbottoms, which was not the norm, and her feet were caked with mud, which might have indicated inclinations toward being a neo-hippie, and while that might be pretentious and lame, it's not all that strange, considering.

Eying the occupants of the bench, she asked if any of our laps were free. The art of sitting on someone's lap is largely a lost one; I don't know where people learn the proper technique, but I do know that most people don't even know it exists to be learned. I know that I was surprised when it was revealed to me.

Anyway, I never discovered whether or not she knew how to properly sit on a lap, because we all kinda glanced at each other and told her to fuck off. Two days later, she was screwing the guy to my right.

That didn't last long. Neither did her mode of dress or her behavior. She lopped off her long, brown hair, bleached it blond, and got a few facial piercings. She started doing heroin and boasting that she gave the best blowjobs in a certain geographical region. She shacked up with a girl named after an invertebrate. I'm guessing that she didn't continue on to greatness.

Then there was another strange girl. She was strange because she was stuck in the 50's. She was also as dumb as a rock, so the only two interesting things about her were her 50's fetish and her profoundly deep bass voice. When I say she was stuck in the 50's, I don't mean that she lived through them and failed to move on. I mean that she wore saddle shoes, sported memorabilia from the golden age of rock and roll, and became very hostile when anyone challenged her adamant insistence that no good music was ever produced after 1959.

Her sister was a model, also as dumb as a rock, and with the same freakishly low voice. Her sister was also a giant slut. In contrast, 50's Girl publicly had sex with a 50-year-old guy while his wife and kids were in Virginia. Having sex in public is generally bad form. I know this because the last time I tried to have sex in a moving vehicle, the driver forbade it. Actually what she said was that we weren't allowed to have sex in her car until she had done so first. Then she proceeded to never have sex in that car, which I thought was a rather rude and deceptive practice.

Anyway, 50's Girl met this schmuck with spiky hair, piercings and tattoos galore, combat boots, and a penchant for crashing motorcycles. Really, you didn't need to look far below the surface to know that he was a festering douchebag, but if you did, you would find out that he was a pathological liar and backstabbing snake.

They hit it off, and just like that, the 50's persona was cast to the wind. She dyed her hair some sickly color, started dressing in leather and listening to hardcore. Her elderly friend, who had little trouble relating to clinging to the 50's, now suddenly found herself in the position of possibly needing to get herself a subscription to some kind of magazine.

Not too far away, a lollergirl took a break from plumping up and spotted a ticket. If you were lucky, she told you about it.