Welcome
back; if you read our first installment, maybe youve
figured out exactly what Spookyville is all about. If not,
allow to me to bring you up to speed. Spookyville is Main
Street USA. Almost every town has one, but instead of the
general store and the post office, the streets of Spookyville
are lined with Adult Video Stores, Lingerie Modeling Shops,
and my personal favorite, the "Gentlemen's Club."
So,
are we catching on? Spookyville is my home right here in
Pornland. And the tales within are my often unusual experiences
that are all in a days worksince I arrived here as
a result of running away from home with a stripper (excuse
me, here in Spookyville the correct terminology would be
exotic dancer, or, how about clothing-deficient performance
artists). [Actually, the most correct term is Ecdysiast
--WebEd]
Portland,
Oregon. Land of free cover charges at nudie bars, and
home
of the depraved.
Portland,
Oregon. Land of free cover charges at nudie bars, and home
of the depraved. God, I love this place. Such a shame I
had to waste thirty years of my youth anywhere else but
here. Sure, San Francisco may be where I left my heart (actually
the bitch ripped it out and tossed it off the Golden Gate
Bridge), but Spookyville is a land where the perverse proprietors
sincerely recommend you check your heart at the door; you
wont be needing it here anyway.
There
were so many new things to discover and encounter. Like
finding the girl blessed with the special gift of being
born without a gag reflex, only to discover this magical
creature is now sworn to celibacy. Ahhh...we have such sights
to show you here my friends.
More
than 50 strip clubs provide an endless supply of lust and
flesh to be pumped into your veins on nearly every corner.
And just in case that's not enough for you, we can smoke,
drink reasonably priced alcohol, enjoy fine meals and admire
a beautiful naked woman up close and personal for only one
wrinkled dollar bill. Hell, there's even the geniuses out
there who think they can sit in the second row (a.k.a. the
cheap seats) and get close to the same view so they can
hang onto their precious dollars for the video crack machines
to make their illusionary fortunes.
I
hate to burst your bubble out there, guys, but these dancers
are doing this for a living. It is, in most cases, their
profession. Maybe the stereotypical illusion of a dancers
intelligence has you all misled. Guess what, the dancers
can still see your cheap ass sitting there in the second
row drooling in your two dollar beers as your eyes crawl
all over her erogenous zones. Let me fill you in on a hint
guys...even though you can't smell it, doesn't mean you
aren't expected to pay for the sniff!!! [Uh... What?
Did that make any sense? --WebEd]
The
dancers have now acquired a new super power in their arsenal
of erotic weaponry: it is known as the all powerful Taxi
Dance. This dangerous ability allows them to penetrate the
forcefield of the rack, which confines the tantalizing vixens
to the stage. Just like a lioness casually sipping at the
watering hole amid a herd of zebra, these lovely erotic
creatures must now wander amid the cheap and the pathetic,
seeking out the old and the weak. These hunters in the buff
are forced to explore the wild tundra and feed on the monetary
vegetation which used to grow wild on the rack in days of
old. But now it grows sparsely in denominations of single
digits, pried from the tight grasping fingers of vagrant
purveyors of flesh hoping to catch that cheap thrill.
Think
about this guys, you'd pay close to $20.00 for "Surf
and Turf" anywhere else, so why is it that this beautiful
exotic dancer isn't even rewarded with more than a sweaty
dollar bill for each song if theyre lucky. Come
on fellow smut lovers, maybe you can't put a price on a
gorgeous piece of ass, but the opening bid is way overdue
for a bit of inflation.
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