A definitely fast lane-appearing couple coasted up to what looked like a Long Branch Saloon re-run in a dusty little cow town at the NV-UT line. After the dust settled around their 500SEL Krautrod they got out, went in, and settled on a pair of stools at the bar. Mr. Large-in Charge-&-Cool ordered an imported brew, and his voluptuous, deep-v-cut, satin-wrapped co-pilot ordered wine spritzer - which was a bit of a challenge for the backwater bartender.
Two stools towards the back of the bar sat an old tattered prospector nursing his last nugget's worth of Bud. And, as hard as he tired, he just couldn't keep his eyes off those bulges protruding out of front of that slinky satin angel's gown nearby. Finally, he muttered something about "..kissin' just one o' dem..", and things started going south in a hurry.....
The 'boyfriend' got hot, went over and swatted the old prospector right off his stool. Muttering his apologies, the prospector moved one stool farther away, nursing the sore side of his head. But, he just couldn't keep his eyes off the copilot's blessings.........
This time, a little bolder from a few more slugs of Bud, he muttered, "....I'd give $500 just to kiss one o' dem........" - and Mr. Cool was up like a flash.........
At this juncture the "copilot" grabbed macho-Bob's arm and said, "...Back off, I'll handle this. You lost our last $50 on that craps table in Vegas, the Mercedes is near Empty - so sit down and shut up..."!!!
Slithering off the barstool, slinking over to the old prospector, and draping a shapely arm around his shoulder, she said, "...What was that you said ol' timer..."?!?
He sputtered, and fidgeted, and finally said, "....I'm sorry Missy, been out in the mines too long, don't wanna get hit no more, I take it back...".
"..Oh, don't mind him...", she said. "...Now, what was that about $500 dollars..."??
Gathering his last ounce of courage, the old prospector said, "...You just so damn bootiful, and ya have dem wonderful breasts, I..., I...., I'd give $500 dollars just ta nuzzle and kiss 'em fur a few minutes...."!!!
"...Well, where could we go do this..."?, she queried.
"...B, b, b, b, b, bak de're...., bak de're in the storeroom, Missy...", he stuttered, pointing towards the end of the bar.
She took the old fellow by the arm and sashayed along side him back to the storeroom at the far end of the bar. After closing the door, which didn't quite latch, the copilot slipped her gown off of her shoulders, and the old prospector proceeded to commence "..nuzzlin' and a smootchin.." her centerfold-quality offerings.
The thoroughly whizzed 'boyfriend', in the meantime, had snuck up to the storeroom door and - with fists clenched and demeanor seething - was watching the goin's on through the small space between the door and the rickety old doorframe....
As the roughness of the prospector’s scrabbly old beard started to become a bit irritating, the copilot inquired as to when he was going to be finished, and settle up.
"...Jus' anudder minute now Missy...", he said, nuzzlin' and smootchin' away.
"...Well, let's get it over with. How much longer, now.."??, she repeated - becoming a bit more annoyed.
"...Jus' anudder minute now, please Missy...", he said.
"...Why do you need another minute, damnit, I want my money and your beard hurts...."!!!
"...Well, we'ze commin' to da hard part, Missy...", he said. "...I jus need one more minute or two to think..!! So's I can figure out jus' whar I'm gonna git $500....."!!!!
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