The Word-a-day Writing Challenge

Day Sixty-Two: Hoochie

Only two of the four of us were nineteen and at least three of us were stoned. I’m not sure who recommended it. Joker, maybe, holding the porno mag. I have a picture of that somewhere: Coy grin and a pony tail draped over a faded gray Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt, patio chairs and early evening sun scattered around the living room in our university rental apartment. Let’s cross the border and hit the strip clubs. The legal drinking age in Quebec was eighteen, which meant we could all get in. The first town across the New Brunswick border held little in the way of intrigue except four or five strip clubs and an all night diner, so the only reason to go there was hoochie, bacon and a good long drive. Basically, we drove four hours one way in a hot-boxed car so that Joker could get a lap dance. The rest of us drank cheap beer, played pool, watched semi-attractive, half naked women make more money than we would see in a month, and then went for breakfast at three a.m. before driving back home with Joker smiling the whole damn way.