Redneck Casanova

I miss the Boondocks. The weekends at the Boondocks were always interesting. Drinks flowed, and hormones raged. Budweiser worked as an aphrodisiac, and most consumers succumbed to the mating call of leaving at 2:00 a.m. with whatever he or she had been wrapped around on the dance floor. Unfortunately, my brother was no different from the other men in the bar, looking to go home with just about anything that would shake her boobs or booty at him.

Stephen’s seduction skills with easy, skank-ho women are becoming legendary amongst his friends. So much so, that I have bequeathed him the well earned title of Redneck Casanova. In order to understand the Redneck Casanova’s suave charisma, I’ll entertain you with some of his encounters with the fairer sex, and I use the term “fairer” loosely. Remember that the lights at the Boondocks were dim, and the smoky haze aided in the allusion of beauty in the bar. All that I am about to relate to you transpired over the course of one night at The Boondocks.

The evening began for Stephen when he looked at a fellow bouncer, and said, “K-Dawg, let’s go have a look around so that I can pick out what I’ll be waking up next to in the morning.” Famous last words or what?

A couple of hours later, I looked up to discover my brother was standing a few feet from my podium at the Boondocks’ entrance. Before I could greet him, a woman approached him with wrapping her arms around him and shoving her tongue down his throat. Ewwww! Gross. He is my baby brother after all. When the lip-lock finished, I yelled at the woman, “Hey! You know that he was born with a cloven hoof, don’t you?” The woman must have thought that I was bitter competition because she gave me a look of “haha…I have him and you don’t” and said with a bitchy smile, “I don’t care.” At this point, Stephen grinned and told the woman, “This is my sister.” The woman immediately changed her attitude by walking up to me with a smile and introducing herself. I refused to shake her outstretched hand. I didn't have any Germ-X with me.

Our sister was there with her ex-husband and some of their friends. When I laughingly told Tracy about the skuz that Stephen had kissed, she told me about what she had witnessed earlier in the evening. The women’s bathroom had overflowed with toilet water yet again, and Tracy had sought out Stephen to let him know. When she found him, he was talking to a girl that Tracy described as “actually pretty.” You would have to see the women at the Boondocks to appreciate my sister’s surprising description of the girl. A pretty girl at the Boondocks is a rarity. However, this pretty girl would not be a “morning-after-bed- partner” for Stephen because he screwed up in a big way. When Tracy interrupted him, he tried to play all suave and in control. He introduced the girl to Tracy by saying, “This is my sister, Tracy,” but when he was to introduce the girl to Tracy, he hesitated. Instead of stating the girl’s name, he told the girl, “I hate it when this happens. Sweetheart, what’s your name again?” The girl became huffy and walked away. The Redneck Casanova had struck again.

After the bar closed, Bill and I met Tracy and her group at a local truck stop. Not much is open at 3:00 a.m. in the morning. There’s a Waffle House, but I refuse to patronize the town’s Waffle House because of a case of police brutality that I witnessed at the establishment one long ago Saturday night. That’s a story for another time. While we chatted and waited on the cook to kill the cow out back for our burgers, Stephen walked in. On his arm was his conquest for the night, or was Stephen her conquest for the night? His victim was yet a different woman, and she seemed happy to have him. When she excused herself to the bathroom, Tracy and I, being the loving sisters that we are, kidded him without mercy. He defended himself by telling us that it was just for the night, and she didn’t have a way home. Her friends had apparently left her stranded at the Boondocks. Don’t you think she could have come up with a better line to reel him in? In Stephen’s estimation, she would do for the night. At least his legendary reputation would continue to grow with another notch on his bedpost. Wait a minute. I’m wrong. The Redneck Casanova doesn’t mark his bedpost with each conquest. Using the camera on his phone, he takes a picture of each woman the morning after while she is still in his bed. You know that it his bed because of the strategically placed deer antlers above it. The Redneck Casanova claims that those antlers are famous. *insert rolling eyes here*

I know that my brother is just enjoying his singleness after being married to a vile woman, but I worry about him. He lives with two other guys, and their place is the party pad. Every weekend after the bars close, lots of partiers migrate to their house. He’s invited me to come out, but I told him that I’m afraid that I would catch something just by walking through the door. He had the audacity to look offended and informed me, “We stock up on bleach and Lysol!”

Stephen has confessed to me that he longs to meet someone nice, but he’s not meeting anyone interesting. He needs to meet someone who is not only attractive and nice but respectable, too. I love my brother and would love to see him happy. I could always place an ad in the classifieds of the local paper.

WANTED: Attractive, nice, respectable, and mature woman to date my brother. Skank-ho’s need not apply!

I could always use some help with writing the ad that I would post in the paper on my brother's behalf. What would you say in the ad? *g*