SCENE:
Two young men, CARL and his friend BOB, are chatting at a bar on a quiet mid-week evening. Carl is the barman; Bob is standing across the bar from him, one foot resting on the rail. There is an unoccupied high stool beside Bob. His glass of beer is nearly empty.
FADE IN:
BOB:
“The Lemon was really rockin’ and rollin’ – the radio was pumping out You Aint Nothin’ But a Hound Dog when Betty and I were making out down by the lake a few Saturdays ago.”
CARL:
“That yellow Chevy sure has a fantastic speaker system. Hound Dog, eh? You mean you and Betty were getting it on doggie-style? You’d have to have the volume knob turned up loud to drown out her moans, right? I’ve heard she’s something of a screamer, eh?”
(He begins singing Come On Baby Light My Fire.)
BOB:
“More like drown out MY screams. Forget the volume knob – that fancy gear shift knob got stuck up my ass! Just when the radio started playing You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me.”
CARL:
“What the hell were you doing with your ass near the stick shift?”
BOB:
“Well, we had the front seat laid down and we were trying out some new moves. That Betty is a gymnast, you know? Talk about flexible. Shit, she’s as loose as a noodle… but tight in all the right places, ha ha. Anyway, I was ramming her from behind, you know – getting a handful of her melons and there we were, going at it with my nuts slapping and her melons swinging…”
CARL:
What a fuckin’ fancy fruit salad! … and getting All Shook Up in the Lemon! Too funny. Were you making a Sundae on a Saturday? With whipped cream about to cum. What happened next? I suppose Good Vibrations or Hold On, I’m A’Comin’ was playing by then?
BOB:
“Might have been. It was going real steamy and Old Faithful was about to blow when Betty’s head got jammed in the glove compartment! Yeah, her poor head was getting rammed into the dashboard, then crunch, she was up to her neck in it.”
CARL:
“Far out! Are you pulling my leg?”
BOB:
“I wouldn’t pull anything of yours!”
CARL:
“Well, let me pull you another beer. Tell me more…”
(Carl gets a clean glass from below the counter, pours another beer and places it in front of Bob.)
BOB:
“Thanks, Carl. OK, so there’s Betty with her head stuck, thrashing around trying to get out, then I got a cramp and seized up and fell sideways and her foot caught me in the nuts and before I knew it, there I was with my knob nearly knobbled and the knob of the stick shift up my ass! Twist and Shout was playing, I remember. We shouted but we also had to blow the horn to attract attention to get rescued.”
CARL:
“Attract attention all right! Starkers and stuck! Blew your horn twice, then. And taking it up the ass as well. How versatile! And how embarrassing. It’s a small town. That kind of cock-up is too good to keep quiet. Those paramedics will be having a laugh at your expense, dining out on the story forever after!”
BOB:
“Maybe not. Betty’s Mum was the ambulance driver and my Dad was on the Fire Brigade team that had to cut us loose. Betty never wants to see my face again.”
CARL:
“Bummer! Your story just gets better and better! It doesn’t sound like Betty wanted to see much of your face anyway. No more Hanky Panky for you for a while, then. Now I know why you haven’t been sitting down tonight. Hey, I’ve just thought of a new nickname for you: ‘Bob The Knob’, ha ha!”
BOB:
“Well, that’s better than Brown Eyed Girl.”
FADE OUT. THE END.
