Puthy Glowsthick

When I was still dancing, I worked with this girl. Her name was E. We new so many E’s at the time, we started attaching adjectives to their names, when conversing about them. There was Cool E, Hippie E, and the E that we worked with. She came to be called Dumb E.

E Had a serious lisp. Seriously, the worst lisp I’ve ever heard. She was also incredibly stupid. She was a year older than me (20 at the time) but she had the I.Q. of an 8 year old (maybe). And when you talked to her in the dressing room, you just thought of her as an eight-year-old, and everything was OK. It was the strangest thing.

However, ten minutes later, that same little girl would be completely naked (it was an all nude club) climb up a 30-foot pole, flip upside down, slide to the floor and show the guy in front her pussy for a dollar. She had surprisingly good motor skills, for a complete moron. No rhythm, but she didn’t fall and bash her head, very often.

I feel that I should also mention that E bore a striking resemblance to Robert England. Robert England played Freddie Kruger. She was not an attractive girl. Titty-bar lighting can do wonders.

When Dumb E first started working at the club, she didn’t know how to use a tampon. When dancers are on their periods, they have to use tampons and cut or tuck in the string. There’s no other option. I felt bad for Dumb E. so I sat her down (on the toilet) and tried to explain it to her. As we were doing this, we heard the d.j. announce her name. This meant that she was next and had about a half of a song to go. She jumped up and ran out of the bathroom with the string hanging out of the back of her thongs.

The d.j. booth was my favorite place in the titty bar. It was quieter and the d.j., who I will refer to as DJ, was awesome. To this day, he is one of my best friends. He’s a doctor, but not in practice anymore because he hated it. It seems strange, but it was my common practice to bend over and have DJ check out my stuff with a flash light to make sure there was nothing on me, such as toilet paper, lint, etc. It was a practice adopted by most of the girls. DJ had no complaints.

So, I followed E downstairs to the d.j. booth, even though she had rejected my attempts at tampon education. Dumb E was bent over, with her hands on the floor saying,”Can you thee it? Ith it in?”. And it is not in. Half of the entire tampon is hanging out, not just the string. DJ didn’t know what to say. We’re both just staring at this girls pussy with a flash light and there’s like 15 seconds before the next Kid Rock song. I mean, this was an art I had mastered long before I was dancing for dollars. Why couldn’t she figure it out?

When Violet got off stage, E just stood up and was ready to go on stage. Tampon, string and all. I told her that she should wait until she got this whole vagina business sorted out, but she wouldn’t listen. I think the last bit of advice I gave her was, “Just keep your legs together!”, as she was walking through the curtain.

Violet and had to see this! We tried to warn her, but she wouldn’t listen. Violet threw on her clothes and we ran upstairs to the balcony. We knew we had at least two songs until she brought out the goods, but sure enough, when we got to the top of the stairs, she was already spread eagle in front of some wasted dude with her underwear down. the most hilarious part was that we could see the guy pointing to her crotch and mouth the words “What’s that?”. In her defense, the guy did have a sweet mustache and she probably couldn’t help herself.

I don’t know if everyone is aware of this, but strip clubs are full of black lights. Under a black light, pretty much everything white glows. This definitely includes tampons. DJ turned down the lights especially low when E was dancing, for obvious reasons, but this didn’t hide the glowing tampon. In fact, it was the only thing you could see. It was so bright white, it was distracting. It might as well have just been a giant tampon dancing up there.

We watched and made inhuman sounds of disbelief, the kind that only a situation such as this can bring on. We stood there squealing back and forth until the end of the last song and she was picking up the dollars she’d dropped. At that point, it was more sad than funny. (Actually, it was still pretty funny)

So, we found our way through the dressing room and back down to the d.j. booth, where she was making her exit through the tinsel curtain. We acted like we hadn’t been laughing hysterically, seconds before. I didn’t really know what to say, so I just smirked at D.J. She didn’t seem phased by the experience, at all. She seemed, in fact, proud. Like she had accomplished some stripper feat.

I was wondering how someone could survive to the ripe old age of 21 with an I.Q that would not allow the comprehension required to use a tampon applicator. I mean, monkeys can create and use more complex tools than that.

While I was contemplating all of this, a real gem snapped me back into reality. “Yeah, he thaid ‘Wha’th that’ and I wath like ‘it’th a puthy glowthtick’ and he believed me. Ain’t that great?” but I don’t think that guy believed her. I think he saw the same thing that I saw; a giant tampon just dancing away. Spinning and kicking her legs up in the air. At one point, the tampon climbed to the top and crawled like a worm down to the floor. It had surprisingly good motor skills, for a tampon.