Ditch the westie, go for wings and beer with Lynda

'So what do you wanna do with her next?' The question is so simple but the answers should all be impossible. It's nice that Lynda's in your corner, but the corner of what? You gotta consider the legal liability of all this, or even just the responsibilities and upkeep you figure must come with owning your own westie. Sure you run your own business, but at home you struggle to do the laundry and maintain shit like your air conditioner. Maybe the Westie can help with the air conditioner?

"I dunno Lynda, what do you say we ditch her and get some wings? I could use a cold one too."

Lynda reads your face before eventually deciding you're not joking. "You serious right now man? You just figured out you got a magical power and got you your very own..." she waves her hand at Amy, unable to find exactly what to call her.

You break in, "look I guess I just need to settle my head ya know?" It's gonna sound sappy and Lynda doesn't seem like the type for sappy but the words just come out of your mouth on their own. "I was really worried, when you saw her, you weren't gonna believe me. I could hardly believe it myself."

Lynda chills out, "Okay I get it. You just flushed your adrenaline." She gets it. "Let's go grab some beers. And some wings." She asks Amy, "You gonna be alright if we leave you here sweetie?"

You don't feel safe bringing her along, but you definitely don't want her roaming the shop. "Actually Amy, why don't you head home. Take the day off, er, if you, do you work? Maybe you... just do whatever it is you would do any other day, and yeah, see you back here tonight."

"K," Amy Hoffstatler says and walks right out the door. You watch her leave, ignoring the almost sexy faux stocking tatted on her leg, not even registering the flat-faced, three-legged panther growling from her shoulder-blade, but homing in on the silhouette of her simplest ink of all, laying the lines of those two curling words into your retina as if the back of your eye were your next fleshy canvas.

Bingo's Girl

Lynda grabs you back to reality. "Okay beer n wings if you want man, but until we get a better plan together, at least take this would ya?" After some rummaging, Lynda hands you an eyeliner pencil and a ball point pen.

"What am I gonna claim with these, a cocktail napkin?" On the counter in the back of the room is an assortment of 'permanent' markers you use when a customer wants a skin sketch before the real work. You pocket a handful, and toss Lynda one too. "Drinks on me. After all, I just won a gift card."

"I just okay'd the naked girl I found at your place of work and now you're gonna thank me by takin' me to HooHas?"

With no more energy left, you just nod.

It does soon work out that the wings and beer calm you down a bit. You're too busy with eating to talk about the recent events, and the place is full of people who might be listening anyway, so you just check out the waitresses and watch the pigskin on TV, but Lynda's watching you. The next time your waitress walks away from your table, Lynda's also watching your eyes absent-mindedly follow her ass across the room.

She interrupts your zone-out. "You got a hot date," she says, indicating herself. "You got a naked, obedient tattoo model," she says, nodding west. "And you got magical powers." She lays her hand on the permanent marker on the table. "And you're captivated by that?"

"Uh, I guess I was just distracted. Sorry Lynda, it's just been such a weird..."

"You wanna claim it?"

"What? You mean our waitress? Becca?"

"Brenda, dude. Guess she should wear her nametag on her ass..." Lynda teases.

"Well I don't see how I could anyway. We're in a wings joint. It's not like I can just say, "excuse me, Brenda or whoever, when you bring that bleu cheese dressing we been waiting on, could you also just bend over and lemme scribble a quick tramp stamp on your back? Don't worry, it'll wash off in a few days."

"Haha, yeah okay, I'm just saying you should be using this power, not just thinking about it. I can't believe you're not putting your name on everything."

You're still a bit overwhelmed to be thinking about writing your name on the world, but you do wanna impress Lynda, so you look around the place for something to claim. There must be something worth owning in here that you can get away with slapping your name on. The waitresses and customers are out of the question right now. If you could claim these wings and beer, you might not have to pay for 'em, but you have this gift card anyway. If you claim the jukebox, do you get to keep everyone's music money? Do you get to pick the songs?

Within arm's length, you could write on your table, the tables and chairs around... Could you sneakily write your name on one of the Point of Sale systems and walk out with the money drawer?

Your waitress walks past again and Lynda calls out, "hey Brenda, yeah could we get some more dressing over here please! Thanks!" Then your hot date uncaps one of your permanent markers and taunts you with it.

You play along. "Fine, when she comes back, I'll hold her down, and you write Bingo's Brenda on her back in buffalo sauce, okay?" Lynda laughs at your joke, but Brenda's already returning so the two of you shut up and look away awkwardly while she puts more bleu cheese on your table. You make sure not to look at her butt or anything.

Lynda pokes you when Brenda's gone and says, "while you were staring at her ass, did you happen to see her waist?"

"I wasn't staring!"

"Okay sure, it's no big deal, my ass is thick and your westie's ass is tight, but look." Brenda walks by with a bucket of beers and some napkins for a nearby table, and you see what Lynda's talking about. Clipped to the young waitress' belt buckle is a carabiner with keys on it.

"She drives a Jeep Cherokee. Late 90s. Saw it in the lot when we came in." Of course claiming the keys isn't possible, but the Jeep itself would be easy.

"Lynda, it's kind of a big deal, grand theft auto." You're not really sure how you feel about just stealing stuff like this. You're not really sure if it'll even work. It doesn't matter at all though, because Lynda is half-way to the parking lot already, black marker in hand.

You sit and watch, admiring her strong will, her self-sure determination, her juicy butt, her long brown hair... she walks out the door into the dark of the evening, and you just wait, listening to the latest teenybopper country-rap fusion nonsense, wishing you had claimed the jukebox instead.

It's only a minute or so before Lynda comes back. Watching her walk back to your table, her smile a little bit wicked but also subdued as she tries to hide it, and you're glad you got her to stick around. When she sits down, a couple at a nearby table is people watching, so you ask her with your eyes, did you do it?

She makes a stupid, scrunched up face, screwing up her eyes, as if to say, duh.

You don't feel any different. Is Brenda's Jeep yours now? And if it is, does it matter? She still has the key. You can see it on her waist again as she walks up to your table. "Can I get y'all anything else? More beers? You ready for the check?"

"Yeah, check please, Brenda, but also, my guy here lost his keys. You see any Jeep keys laying around? Maybe someone turned it in?"

"Oh no, I'll take a look. You got a spare hidden somewhere just in case, I hope?"

Lynda answers for you, "I told him to tape one to the visor just in case." She looks at you with a teasing gleam in her eyes, "you never did it, though, did you?"

Brenda jumps in, "well that's a little obvious isn't it? I used to drive a Jeep, tons of space up under the wheel wells. You should get one of them magnet boxes you can stick up under there. That way nobody finds it."

You do your finger guns. Brenda continues, "I'll grab the check and take a look for your key."

As soon as Brenda's gone, Lynda bursts out laughing and squeezes your hand. "Tons of space up under the wheel wells! Haha maybe we should ask her which wheel is best?! Dumbass."

"Lynda we can't just steal her car, though. How's she gonna get home? Won't she know something's wrong? I'm sure plenty of cars out there have spare keys hidden, but it doesn't mean we can just take 'em and we won't get cops showing up tomorrow looking for 'em!"

"Yeah but this one has your name on it."

Brenda soon comes back with the check, and she's placing it on the table when Lynda elbows one of the beers and knocks the bottle over. Brenda hands the receipt to Lynda in a hurry and looks around for something to wipe up the mess, but Lynda stops her before she can even pull out a rag.

"Hey we actually gotta run. So sorry for the mess, but, if we could just sign this and be outta your way..." Lynda motions with her hand like she's gonna write on the bill, but she obviously needs something to bare down on, since the table won't do. As if by clockwork, Brenda pulls her long hair out of the way over her shoulder and offers her back for Lynda to write on. You see Lynda drop the ball-point Brenda gave her and whip out your permanent marker instead. "Thank you so much, you're such a darling," Lynda tells Brenda, as she fills out the receipt and then keeps writing, over the edge of the paper and onto her shirt, scribbling right over the eyebrows of the HooHas mascot.

"Yeah no problem, it happens all the time," Brenda whips out her rag ready to wipe up the spill, but Lynda's still writing. When Lynda finishes, she takes the gift card from you, and hands Brenda the card and the receipt.

"Just ring up whatever's left on the card as a tip okay?"

"Okay sure," says Brenda, "thanks so much!" and she pulls her t-shirt right up over her head. "Don't forget this!" she says to you specifically and hands you her shirt. You snap back to reality, if that's what this is, and take the shirt, thanking her. Lynda is trying really hard not to laugh, and excuses herself to the car.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, wouldn't wanna forget... my shirt..." Brenda is standing there in her jeans and bra, which isn't nearly as **** as the fully nude westie you had in your shop earlier today, but no one else was around then. Within seconds, most of the eyes in the wings place are squarely on Brenda's chest. You quickly take your leave in a hurry and meet Lynda in the parking lot, where she's already searching for Brenda's spare key. Maybe it's your spare key now. Still unclear.

"Pretty smooth, eh?" Lynda's feeling pretty proud of herself.

"I dunno Lynda, I'm worried. Like what if it's my Jeep but they're her keys? What if she reports her car missing? Also, the shirt thing is gonna cause problems like right away."

"Chill out man. You saw that westie slut. She didn't accuse you of shit. She was just gonna give it up for you, anything you wanted, and more." She gets to her feet, holding a little magnetized box. "Found it! So, it's your Jeep now, and if anyone has any questions about it, they'll be wondering why Brenda has your keys, not why you have your own Jeep. Just like she just handed you the shirt without even questioning it. Just like the Bingo cards."

"Shit. You're right. What did you write on her anyway?"

"I just wrote Bingo's. Nothin' else. Wanted to see what would happen."

Lynda may be reckless, but she's being clever too. You decide to roll with it.

She continues, "lets take the Jeep for a ride, yeah? We can come back for my wheels later." Lynda squeezes your hand and gives you a peck on the cheek before she climbs up into the driver's seat and sticks the key in the ignition.

As you climb into the cab, the door of the wings bar opens and Brenda leans out, still half-topless. "Hey, sir! Mister Bingo!"

This is it, she knows something's wrong. It must be from the people ogling her. Maybe one of them called the cops. Maybe she got in trouble with the restaurant manager. You are about to tell Lynda to floor it, but she calls out, "found your key! Looks just like my old one!" You still can't believe it's real as you walk back to the door to meet Brenda. "I must have seen it on the floor and put it on my own keychain by accident! Just from habit or pure instinct or something! Sorry for the trouble!"

"Yeah, sure, no problem." She hands you the key and you take one last glance at her cleavage before you drag your confused self back to your new Jeep. "Thanks, Brenda."

"Come back and see us again!" she shouts as Lynda pulls the Jeep out of the parking lot.