Saturday's Storyteller: "Screw you, Granny! I'm gonna join a biker gang!"
by Belinda Roddie
"Screw you, Granny! I'm gonna join a biker gang!"
"Pardon, dearie?"
"A biker gang! Gawd! I'm gonna join a biker gang and rip shit up, dude. So screw you."
"Oh! Well, good for you, dear! I remember my days in a biker gang."
"Er...what?"
"Yes, indeed! Back in 1955, up to 1976. We ripped up the east coast like nobody's business. It was an all-woman's biker gang, too. We were called the Clits. Certainly difficult for the men to find us."
"Um..."
"Course, I suppose that's why Denise chose the name. I remember Denise. Tall and supple. Had the biggest, most beautiful breasts. Why, you could practically climb them like mountains. You might have even needed a sherpa. Not like Ella's ta-tas. Those were more molehills than Mount Everest. Shame, really - she did have quite a lovely face."
"Uh, Granny?"
"Boy, those were the days! Course, you couldn't go too crazy in the biker gangs. Though we always liked stopping by the bars on the side of the road. I'd always get myself a green apple martini. You ever had one? I know your father liked them, too. I'd kick back three of them before asking the bartender to take me out back. He'd let me sit in his car and play with the fuzzy dice dangling from his rearview mirror. Though he also let me play with some other fuzzy dice dangling from his other rearview mirror, if you understand the dual meaning..."
"Ew! Grandma! What the fuck?!"
"Oh, sweetie, you're too young to understand. Biker gangs aren't anything to sneeze at. Why, I remember doing lines of coke off Denise's bare ass when we were camping out for the night. We'd be high as kites, sleeping under the stars. I'd get my wedding ring caught in her jeans a couple of times. We sure knew how to party, that's for sure! Now, what will your biker name be, Branson? Will it be, 'Raisin Bran?' You'd sure look like a hearty bowl of fiber to some bikers, lemme tell you that right now."
"Granny!"
"See, my biker name was, 'Rocket Rosie.' 'Cause I was pretty as a rose, but I made all the boys' rockets reach lift-off..."
"Gawd, stop! Just forget I said anything, okay?! I'm going to my room!"
"Okay, dearie! If you play your Grand Theft Auto hijinks, count me in! I'd love to steal someone's road hog and cut off some bitches' heads with a katana."
"Gawd, Granny. You're so weird."
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.
"Screw you, Granny! I'm gonna join a biker gang!"
"Pardon, dearie?"
"A biker gang! Gawd! I'm gonna join a biker gang and rip shit up, dude. So screw you."
"Oh! Well, good for you, dear! I remember my days in a biker gang."
"Er...what?"
"Yes, indeed! Back in 1955, up to 1976. We ripped up the east coast like nobody's business. It was an all-woman's biker gang, too. We were called the Clits. Certainly difficult for the men to find us."
"Um..."
"Course, I suppose that's why Denise chose the name. I remember Denise. Tall and supple. Had the biggest, most beautiful breasts. Why, you could practically climb them like mountains. You might have even needed a sherpa. Not like Ella's ta-tas. Those were more molehills than Mount Everest. Shame, really - she did have quite a lovely face."
"Uh, Granny?"
"Boy, those were the days! Course, you couldn't go too crazy in the biker gangs. Though we always liked stopping by the bars on the side of the road. I'd always get myself a green apple martini. You ever had one? I know your father liked them, too. I'd kick back three of them before asking the bartender to take me out back. He'd let me sit in his car and play with the fuzzy dice dangling from his rearview mirror. Though he also let me play with some other fuzzy dice dangling from his other rearview mirror, if you understand the dual meaning..."
"Ew! Grandma! What the fuck?!"
"Oh, sweetie, you're too young to understand. Biker gangs aren't anything to sneeze at. Why, I remember doing lines of coke off Denise's bare ass when we were camping out for the night. We'd be high as kites, sleeping under the stars. I'd get my wedding ring caught in her jeans a couple of times. We sure knew how to party, that's for sure! Now, what will your biker name be, Branson? Will it be, 'Raisin Bran?' You'd sure look like a hearty bowl of fiber to some bikers, lemme tell you that right now."
"Granny!"
"See, my biker name was, 'Rocket Rosie.' 'Cause I was pretty as a rose, but I made all the boys' rockets reach lift-off..."
"Gawd, stop! Just forget I said anything, okay?! I'm going to my room!"
"Okay, dearie! If you play your Grand Theft Auto hijinks, count me in! I'd love to steal someone's road hog and cut off some bitches' heads with a katana."
"Gawd, Granny. You're so weird."
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.
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