Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Redhead and the Corpse

a true story by Russell Pinkston

We all have lost a love one who meant alot to us. This story has nothing to do with that. It's about cruising for chicks at a funeral (there is always at least one person who is single).
Years before Will Ferrell did it in The Wedding Crashers there was me. Sexy, adorable, sensitive, little ol' me. I was at my peak. I was irrisistable. I was charming. I was eight. Yeah the ladies loved me. I was four foot tall, eighty some pounds of strapping muscle, skin, and bone. Ok so not so much muscle. But I was tenacious.
So there I was at a funeral. Whose? Who was that corspe in the nice suit? Can't really say but pretty sure but it was a family member. I think it was my grandfather on my mother's side. She was in a pretty good mood. At the reception there was this guy. I didn't know him but once again I had the feeling he was family of some sort. But this isn't about him. This is about the girl he brought with him. His girl, his date (who brings a date to a funeral anyways?) She was early twenties and she had a great body (hey I had seen my dad's Playboys so I knew what looked good...and she did), and flaming red hair. She was hot (ok at eight I probably thought my mom was hot but that is beside the point). If a eight year old could of popped a boner I would of done so. She knew I wanted her. The ladies could always tell. When you got it you can't hide it. Somehow this bet or more like a challenge was presented to me. If I could raise enough money and give it to the guy (her pimp?) than she would be mine. I think we agreed on the sum of $2.50 (alot of money back in the day). Forget grandpa (I'll miss you, gotta go). I had more important things to do. So there I was hitting up the mourners for cash. I got a nickel here, a dime there, here a quarter, there a penny (cheap bastard). For what seemed like all day (more like a hour) I begged and pleaded for money. I think everyone was in on it and was told not to give me much. Sure...mess with a eight year old with a heart of gold and a premature sex drive. Each time I felt dispair and discouraged I would catch a glimpse of that red hair. Renewed determination. I wanted her. I had to have her. She was gonna be mine. I didn't have any idea what I would do with a redhead. I just knew I had to have one.
Finally at the end of the time limit the pimp guy asked me how much I had accumulated. I took the change out of my pockets as the redhead and the crowd looked on. I counted it out than counted it again. I had only raised like $2.25. One more beeping quarter was all I needed. Pimp guy said "Sorry pal, maybe next time." He told everyone goodbye and with redhead in tow he turned to leave. The redhead looked back and gave me a smile. What? No? Come on man. Cut me some slack. Give a guy a break. After all my grandpa just died. Then they were gone. To this day funerals aways make me cry.

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