"I got my MONEY BACK..."

"I got my MONEY BACK from a WHORE!: A Christmas Story"

My friend Bradley is unique: a Houston boy who abandoned his suit-job and went out to the West Texas desert to make himself into a cowboy. He managed to learn enough to be a ranch-hand. He stands 6'3", wears a battered Astros cap and usually smiling with little flecks of dip in his teeth. Bradley lives in the middle of nowhere, on a yucca-studded prairie in a house owned by the ranch boss. He smokes heroic amounts of weed and subsists mainly on canned chili and single-malt Scotch. He eschews cigarettes ("Those things'll kill ya!") His leisure hours are often spent reading Charles Bukowski or stonedly driving around the rocky foothills near the ranch while Townes Van Zandt plays on his truck's stereo.

So I called him at his mom's in Houston to wish him a Merry Christmas. He insists on relating an anecdote from earlier in the week. "I got my MONEY BACK from a WHORE!" Bradley says. Turns out Bradley rented a hotel room and placed a call to a local escort service. "She was a sweet little gal, but kinda small, so I'd worried about how she'd be able to handle Bret. I suggested she get on top." Bret is Bradley's phallus, alleged to have monstrous proportions. I always thought it was dumb that Bradley had named his penis, until later I learned he'd named his dick after a cousin that he really hated. "Bret."

(continued next post)

 

"I got my MONEY BACK from a WHORE!: A Christmas Story" (continued)

"She got on, then she got right off. She told me no way was she getting on that thing. I told I'd warm her up a little bit more, but she got kinda bull-headed. We started to fuss at each other and she left." That's when Bradley got on the phone to the escort boss, who, predictably, assured Bradley that not every customer was guaranteed a map of Hawaii as a result of the evening's companionship. But Bradley was adamant. "I told the guy, "Look, she got on, then she got right off! I'm not tryin' to cheat you. I'd rather you just send a bigger gal, but if you can't do that, I want my money back!" Finally, the boss agreed to review the matter with his employee.

"The next day, I called and left a message. The day after that, I was fixin' to call this asshole again, but I decided to check my credit card balance one more time. And there it was- a refund! I got my MONEY BACK from a WHORE! I called him to thank him and he said that the girl's story matched mine. I told him I appreciated it and I'd be happy to try another escort- a different one- next time I was in Houston."

A heartwarming Christmas story, but I don't think I'd like to see it adapted as an animated special.

 

"She say no boom-boom with soul brother."

"It too beaucoup. Too beaucoup."

"Hey, honey. What we got here is pure Alabama black snake. But it ain't too goddamn beaucoup."

 

How did Mitch Albom miss this one??

Talk about dreams deferred.

 

Geez, you aren;t kidding. Talk about a tear-jerker...

 

As a piece of entertaining creative writing I'd give this ;D ;D ;D ;D (out of five ;D ). But using a credit card with a hooker? Sure your friend's name isn't Jerry ... Jerry Springer?

 

As to the veracity of Bradley's tale, I have no opinion. Could have happened, could have not. His ex-girlfriend confirms that he is indeed freakishly endowed.

And having no experience with prostitutes of any kind, including the psuedo-legal "escort services," I can't speak to the likelihood of such services accepting plastic. But if any escort services take credit cards, I'd say Houston or Dallas would be the most likely places to find such a phenomenon. And many Texas businesses are renowned for consumer-friendly customer service policies.

 

Irish, who knew that you and I were friends all along?

 

Army buddy of mine passed out while he had two hookers in the room in Tijuana.

Yeah, he woke up without any money.

 

I suggest reworking this tale.

Instead of the sympathetic pimp and tiny hooker with the big heart doing the right thing, you should have Bradley dickering with the MasterCard folks saying that he contested the $50 escort fee because the hooker couldn't handle "Bret."

They would naturally want some confirmation of his abnormality. Hilarity would ensue.

 

If it did happen, I'd say the "escort" probably got into trouble and that the refund was authorized by the boss.

But yes, bringing MasterCard into the equation would be totally hilarious. The customer service rep would have a story to tell for years...

A room at the Houston Lone Star Suites: $100
Box of Magnums: $5
A prostitute who will readily and gladly accomodate your grotesque horsecock: Priceless.