Rhythmless Stripper Busts a Move; Eyeballs and Dignity Fry

Years ago, my sister Merry and I used to play "The Depressing Game" while stuck on long car trips with our parents. The game involved the two of us peering out of our respective car windows looking for sadness incarnate: stray kittens, old men sitting alone on park benches, heavyset women in denim mini skirts. This was car bingo for neurotic, Upper West Side kids. By the time we reached whatever destination we were being dragged to by our parents in whatever busted vehicle my parents owned at the time (the 1974 Cadillac played a prominent role during the Depressing Game years), the two of us were nearly in tears and the folks were exasperated at what I'm sure they identified as years of therapy bills in the making.

It's been awhile since my last round of TDG, but it all came back to me in spades when I went to a friend's surprise birthday party this weekend and got to experience my very first stripper-who-makes-house-calls. The dude - a handsome Dominican man who called himself Starlight, spoke no Engligh, and had a brain we soon learned that existed solely in his penis - arrived on the scene and went straight to the bathroom where he remained for more than 45 minutes. While we moved furniture and guzzled beer in anticipation of the show, the Birthday Boy - mortified at what we had planned - put on his darkest sunglasses and tried to psyche himself up for what was to come. So there we are, the eager spectators, clapping out of sync with a song featuring the lyrics "Put it on my face" only to note that the stripper is still AWOL in the can. Some wondered if he was "fluffing," while others thought perhaps we had accidentally signed up for the Stripper and Enema show. A pall fell over the crowd and then...out of the bathroom burst Starlight in a baggy set of Gulf War fatigues. Hoots and hollers went up as we breathed a sigh of relief that he was not dressed in anything that smacked of The Gimp. Starlight did an awkward two-step, hurling legs and arms in Birthday Boy's direction. A painful looking straddle and then the sound of velcro tearing. The fatigues were coming off, slowly, loudly, but surely. What remained were TWO layered pairs of underpants - zebra print and satiny red - while on his feet were a pair of busted looking boots. Also, it was impossible not to notice Starlight's half-oiled body. We realized that his lengthy bathroom tour was spent trying to oil himself up with limited success. While an egg could have been fried on his upper back somehow the lower back remained dry. Suddenly, the music cut out. One of the partygoers ran over to Birthday Boy's turntables (because Starlight is the only stripper in the history of strippers-who-make-housecalls who didn't bring his own tunes) and threw on whatever record was within reach. Techno blasting, Starlight grabbed Birthday Boy and tried to lift him from his chair, then threw him on the couch for the world's most awkward simulated doggystyle. Birthday Boy - a committed "top" - took it in stride but it was clear from the way his sunglasses were cutting into his face with every staccato thrust of Starlight's groin that his patience was in limited supply. Next up, Starlight featured his pump and grind move on the floor. Even when both sets of panties started riding up his crack, nothing was going to keep him from thrusting his manhood at the carpet like a guy who's been fucking rugs for a long time. The music cut out again, but Starlight wasn't fazed. With only the beat in his head, he straddled Birthday Boy's chair and attempted to lift one oily leg up so everyone could appreciate the spectacle of doubled-up, too-small undergarments. Suddenly, the scratch of a needle on vinyl and the music came on - another album within reach had been thrown on the turntable. The grand finale of 2001: A Space Odyssey blasted through the speakers. Starlight frog-jumped his crotch towards the Birthday Boy's face when Birthday Boy - tolerant of the freakshow no longer - shouted "This is so bizarre!" and the Dance of the Seven Testacles came to a screeching halt.

Dear Merry, I win.