Have you ever tossed a midget? It’s liberating.
If you’re offended by that statement, then consider these wise words by Stephen Fry.
“It’s now very common to hear people say, ‘I’m rather offended by that.’ As if that gives them certain rights. It’s actually nothing more… than a whine. ‘I find that offensive.’ It has no meaning; it has no purpose; it has no reason to be respected as a phrase. ‘I am offended by that.’ Well, so fucking what.”
I drunkenly gazed around the lobby of the MGM Las Vegas as though I could miraculously cause some sexy girls in high heels and short dresses to appear, walk up to me, say “OMG you are soooo sexy! Take us home with you and penetrate our assholes pretty please!”.
This of course, was wishful thinking. Unless you look like Brad Pitt, the odds of a girl approaching you and willfully offering her pussy on a platter are slim. It can happen and does if you’re dressed sharp and have swagger, but generally, it is the action of us as men that causes the one night stand to actually happen. Without men, the world would have stopped procreating thousands of years ago.
The good news is I come from the old stock of seeing what I want and pursuing it until I have it, or die in the process. Some call that aggression. I call it being a man.
I reached out to pat my buddy on the arm, but of course he had stepped away and in my drunkenness I slapped the air and then stumbled. How suave.
I heard a giggle and as we know a woman’s giggle is akin to the click of heels on pavement. We focus like a bird dog on a pigeon and I quickly stood up straight and focused all of my attention on where that particular cute giggle came from.
I located its location, a slot machine where three girls were standing. They could have been dimes, or they could have been sevens, one really never knows after double-digit vodka-tonics and shots, but at this point did it really matter?
My buddy and I had left Hakkasan (the mega nightclub at the MGM) and alas, were empty-handed. I.e. we didn’t pick up any sluts to take to our rooms. This is the equivalent to a hopeful bride not catching the bouquet at her best friend’s wedding.
I walked over to the girls and used a classic Vegas opener I often use when a girl is sitting at a slot machine without playing.
“Girls, you know you’re not allowed to sit on the machines without feeding it money”
More giggles followed by the sassy one in the group retorting.
“What are we in trouble? What are you going to do about it?”
These types of retorts are gifts from above when the night hasn’t gone your way as a player.
“It’s quite simple darling. You will each receive a spanking”
The giggles turn into nervous laughter and blushes all around. Hook, line and sinker.
“Okay”, the sassy brunette responds while subtlety arching her ass in my direction. Who am I to deny her required punishment?
I laid a swift open slap on her ass. She cooed like a fucking bird.
Any girl who says she doesn’t like to be manhandled is a liar, or severely damaged past the help of a psychiatrist. I pulled her close with my other hand around her waist and whispered some nasty quips into her ear.
And just like that, my buddy emerges. What a wingman…nowhere to be seen, but now appears like an eager puppy to help with the feast.
I grab the sassy brunette’s hand and tell the other girls to link up like little ducks following their dad across the street. They of course, do so.
My plan was to take them to my room at the Cosmo, but fate had another plan.
No sooner did we start walking, but I get a call from a good friend of mine who lives in Vegas and is a host at one of the tier 1 clubs.
“Dude, where are you?!”
“Currently walking through the MGM with three sexy girls headed to Cosmo”
“Stop. Don’t move, I’m walking towards you right now”
I look around and spot this crazy Englishman walking towards me with two hot girls in tow.
“Fine you fuck”. I hang up.
I pause the girls for a moment until he approaches and we exchange ‘hellos’ like drunken guys do. Obnoxious, over the top and observed by everyone within a twenty-foot radius with bemusement and possible slight annoyance.
He’s excited and clearly on something. Coke specifically.
“Dude listen, I have an eight ball of some real pure shit and these girls are down to party and I have a client with a big suite upstairs who wants to party. Come with okay? Okay?!”
Have you ever tried reasoning with a buddy when he’s high? It’s impossible. But more importantly, I was thinking about logistics. Although Cosmo is close to the MGM, experience has taught me that logistics no matter how short in distance can seriously fuck up one’s chance to seal the deal with a sexy filly.
“Alright you fuck, but relax, you’re acting like an idiot”
He smiled like the cheeky Englishman he is and I took that opportunity to ball tap him right there in the MGM lobby.
I will admit, I overdid it, using the opportunity to AMOG the shit out of him in front of the girls. My wingman shook his head at my immaturity, but I did notice a slight smirk emerge from his lips.
Ball-tapping is hysterical at 4:30am in Vegas in the lobby of a major hotel. Well, at least the drunken Christian thought so.
Being the good mate I am, I offered my hand and pulled the cheeky Englishman to his feet. He promised he would get me back at some point in the near future (which he did in the lobby of the Cosmo a few weeks later), I told my three chickadees the new plans and we headed as a group to the elevators.
As we passed Beacher’s Madhouse, a freak show of a miniature club inside of MGM known for its midgets and other randomness, a midget with swagger approached us. I say with swagger, because he walked right up to the sassy brunette whose hand I was holding and grabbed her OTHER hand.
My mouth dropped. I was being AMOG’d by a midget.
Have you ever felt extreme disdain and respect for someone at the same damn time? That’s how I felt. My annoyance quickly turned to amusement and respect as my evil thoughts quickly dissipated from my mind and were replaced with thoughts of perhaps starting a charity for vertically challenged people.
“You’re one sexy woman. How about you take me home?”
Fuck the charity. This is war.
She giggled, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t know what her giggling could lead to.
“How you doing buddy?” I tried to take over the situation using the subtle insult of calling him ‘buddy’. That’s what guy do when they’re trying to subtly insult you. I personally hate the reference, but pulled it out to make a point. He couldn’t have cared less.
“Who are you? Her gay best friend?”
Ouch. This midget not only had balls of steel, but he was hilarious.
“Watch it, or I might knee the fuck out of your face”. Yes, I know in hindsight, threatening a dude whose head was around the height of my thigh was immature as fuck, but then again I had also ball tapped my buddy merely moments ago. Such was the mindset of the night.
“Guys don’t fight! We’re going to a party upstairs. Want to come with?”
And just like that the girl accepted the midget’s approach and I was AMOG’d again.
“I’d love to”. The midget, whose name was Daryl (which for some reason I found to be hysterical), held firmly onto her hand with his tiny pudgy fingers and beamed proudly at me. I glared back, but put on a fake smile so as not to appear annoyed anymore and clutched her OTHER hand.
This bitch is loving this, probably imagining him eating her out while I feed my lap hog down her throat inch by inch.
The cheeky Englishman was enjoying my getting one-upped by the midget to such an extent that I continually threatened his life whispering in his ear the physical torture I would exert on him as we rode the elevator up.
We stepped into the party and everyone does what they do at parties. One girl runs to the bathroom, no doubt to throw up. Another pours a drink. Yet another cuts a line and of course at least one girl has to take a selfie by the window for her Instagram.
The midget had left me in a foul mood, so I was surprised when he wandered over to me clutching a plastic cup in his grubby hands and tried to make small talk.
“Where you from?”
And so it went on, until he said something that caused my foul mood to dissipate quicker than a Miami rain shower.
“Have you ever tossed a midget?”
Good God am I hearing correctly? Could this dream of mine actually be possible?
“Excuse me?” I feigned politeness although I was already sizing him up and trying to guess his weight. Pertinent questions crossed my mind in rapid fire succession.
Could I toss him? How much do you weigh FUCKER? Forty pounds? Nah, he’s basically like 5 Christmas hams stacked on each other…shit!
“I actually get paid to get tossed. If you pay me a hundred dollars I’ll let you toss me now, but it has to be onto the bed. Like, with the pillows against the head-board.”
Kids, dreams really DO come true.
“That’s barbaric. I couldn’t do that. How about fifty bucks?”
“Fifty bucks and you tell that brunette to give me a blowjob and you have a deal”
Hahahahaha good luck.
“Dude, she won’t even be able to find it, much less give you a blowjob”
“That’s pretty harsh”
I felt bad. I apologized. Nothing could threaten this dream coming true.
“Alright, my bad, I’m sure you’re hung like an oversized hamster. Now listen, I can’t guarantee she’ll give you a blowjob, but here is a fresh fifty dollar bill just begging to be put in your pocket…”
I gently laid the fifty dollar bill on his shoulder as though I was knighting him. His grubby hands with surprising swiftness snatched it up.
I resisted doing a jig right there, but first off I can’t dance and secondly it seemed a bit much for the moment. I would dance after I tossed his ass a good 10 feet.
I made an announcement to the room that something very serious was about to take place and everyone should help me move the furniture to the sides of the room. A few jumped in and helped and the others stood in the corner and snorted lines.
Lazy fucks. Isn’t coke supposed to give people energy?
Soon the tossing arena was arranged and I quickly ditched my suit coat, rolled up my dress shirt sleeves and prepared for my moment of greatness.
I asked him the particulars of how I was supposed to pick him up. I didn’t want to give the dude a wedgie that would castrate him.
He explained it patiently as though he had a hundred times. He probably had.
I asked for some intro music and the girl hovering over the iPod dock put on Kings of Leon. She ducked as I chucked a half empty plastic cup at her head and switched to it something more appropriate per my suggestion: I Believe I Can Fly by R. Kelly.
I picked up Daryl, aka the midget and tossed him as far as I could. There was a sickening thud as he fell face first into the carpet three feet in front of me.
I rushed to his aid as though I was trying to save his life. I was in shock.
Am I really this weak?
He turned over with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. My pants ripped though”
His pants had ripped slightly causing me to lose my grip when I tossed him.
Ah relief. I’m not a weak ass bitch.
“Let’s try again so you get your monies worth”
What a champ! Am I finding myself wanting his friendship?
Once again I had the music cued, picked him up and tossed him as though my life depended on it.
I really wish you could have seen him take flight. It would have made the Wright Brothers extremely proud and perhaps slightly jealous.
He soared with his head held high and proud as though he knew in that moment he was fulfilling his destiny and I felt proud that I had given him a hand in doing so.
He landed onto the soft bed and everyone cheered.
In that moment I felt my life was complete. Then I went to Rhino.
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