The Adventures of Dude Totally - Private Guy

She had a mouth like a stretched rubber band and a backside that could juice a lemon. I wasn't planning on taking any new cases, probably because I wasn't a detective. I was a rodeo clown. But, when she knocked on my door and stuffed a Chinese takeout menu on my door, I couldn't say no.

She said her name was Molly, and her voice cracked and smoked like single-malt scotch over fresh ice cubes. She told me she had a job for me. One day's work for $10,000. I asked her what the catch was. She swept up her skirt and I could see that 10 years of ballet, 5 years of jazz, and 8 years of tap didn't go to waste. She slipped a heavily-jeweled hand inside the hem of her stocking and pulled out a flask. She whipped her head back like a Pez dispenser and took a belt. Then, she leaned forward and studied me like I was one of those Magic Eye pictures. I got a whiff of her. She was a Benetton ad of smells. The whiskey on her breath, her sensible toothpaste, shampoo made from eucalyptus leaves, body wash that was lucky enough to touch her in areas most men would give their first layers of skin to visit, but a perfume that could flatten an elevator full of people.

She told me to meet her at the Ridgeway Diner, which was conveniently located on Ridgeway Drive, which was conveniently located on the East Side. Convenient for those on the East Side. I lived on the West Side. But, I had heard of the Ridgeway. They were known for their fountain soda and their automatic gratuity charges. I told her that I don't even get out of my chair for less than $5,000, So she took out five grand and stacked it on my desk. It took a while because she had it all in coins. When she was finished, she coolly tossed the empty duffel bags over her shoulder and spun on her heel towards the door. At the door, she stopped, looked over her shoulder, fixing those mud puddle eyes at me and said, "The Ridgeway, tomorrow night, 10 o'clock."

I watched that precious backside of hers tick-tock its way out the door - hypnotizing me. I clucked like a chicken laying velvet eggs. Then, I made my way over to the five grand. Took me all night counting that dough. Turns out she was $10 short of $5,000. I got up for $4,990 and I told her I don't get up for less than five grand. She was good. Real good.

I decided to treat myself to something nice. So, I ordered a large pizza with sauce AND cheese and turned on Cinemax. That night, I dreamt of plot-less pizza and "B" movies delivered in 30 minutes or less.

I woke up face-to-face with my mortal enemy - the sun. I screamed like a teenaged girl who was suddenly pushed into a swimming pool. I dragged my ragged carcass and scuttled to the bathroom. The cool shock of the tile snapped me upright like the hand of a clock at midnight. I looked at the mess on the mirror and wiped it with the sleeve of my shirt so I could see the mess IN my mirror. Bloodshot nose and runny eyes. I was a study in modern art, with a face like a clenched fist. I waved a hand at my reflection in disgust, lit a cigarette, and slipped into the shower.

Water. Grunt. Rinse. Shampoo. Belch. Wash rag. Full body-scratch. I didn't bother to use conditioner. I yanked back the shower curtain and took a long drag on my Marlboro. My mind flashed back to Molly and those Swedish Fish lips. The curve of her neck, the light hair on her knuckles, the cute way that second toe jutted past the big toe...

I could have stood there and continued soaping, but I had to towel off and get dressed. I hurried to work, but all I could think of as I was being tossed around by various foul-tempered beasts was how that sweet little vixen could probably toss me harder and longer than anything that would probably end up next to my mashed potatoes some day.

I hurried home after work to change. That missing $10 really burned my biscuits. She put the hook in me and watched me wriggle on the line, but something smelled fishy here, and I was going to bait her into telling me what it was before she could worm her way out of it.

(On the next episode of "DUDE TOTALLY - PRIVATE GUY"):

"Mister Totally, is that a juice zester in your pants or are you glad to see me?"

"I'm not wearing pants"