Part 3: Dickbag

Chapter 3 - Dickbag

So where was I on my vacation, mentally? I wasn't sure. To be honest, ever since agreeing with L, however half-heartedly, that I needed to forget about B and concentrate on a bigger slew of the opposite sex had started to make me doubt things.

B and I were friends - had been for a long time. Had it just been me mistaking my own feelings? They say that hostages feel something like love or dependence for their captors. Maybe that's how it was with B. A form of post-teenage years Stockholm-syndrome.

The ski lift had taught me a couple things, but confused me on tens of others. Why did B want to teach me how to meet other girls? Was she denying feelings she might have had for me? Was this a pre-emptive rejection, expecting me to ask her out after Sean had broken up with her? I had a feeling that maybe - just maybe - if I'd done a little better in that game of ours, I might have gotten more than just a peck on the face.

Or maybe I was just being too hopeful.

D and L weren't much help. D thought I should follow my heart, but had no better advice than that - he only had a bevy of paraphrenalia for me. Pepper spray, a pocket knife, a rose, and a joke? Fortunately they fit in my lucky parka.

Speaking of luck, I had B's rabbit's foot present hanging from a belt loop in my jeans. L didn't like it and said something about writing for WTV - our local women's channel. There was a golden line somewhere in there - maybe my mind could have stumbled upon it. But as it was, I couldn't think of the line. It's what the Germans call Treppenwitz or Esperit d'Escalier, only to a much lesser degree. Call it the Spirit of the Stepladder.

But with that behind me, I walked into my extremely temporary job - just to make a few extra bucks for the nights here on Snow Bird Mountain. I opened the SBM Ski Shop, with no idea what would take place soon thereafter. It was at this point that a bold new character entered this sordid tale of dating, drama, and debauchery. A new face I had not scene before would prove to be the face of a pivotal role to play in my fate, as well as B's.

We'll call him Dickbag.

D had come to visit me at work, when...



And then B walked through the door...



What to say? D would tell me to just go with my gut. L would say not to appear too desperate. Were any of these right? Did it really even matter so much?



I dunno, guys. How would pepper spray help me with B?

I don't see D or L recommending this course of action...

... But I'll try anything once.



So I aimed carefully and sprayed it right in her eyes.




































Alright, so there were a lot of recommendations, but since I wanted to play the field a bit, I decided to be coy.



It didn't really come out like I intended, though.

Come on, Brett, please? Just come. I gotta run, but I'll talk to you later.
Yeah, I'm not sure, I might be busy.



I broke down. I couldn't refuse her.

I'll be there.
Great! I'll see you later! Bye! Call me!

And then I receieved the Cell Phone - B's #... uh, I mean B's number. Woohoo! She's been my friend since childhood but I finally got her phone number!

Becky left and I found my heart was faster than normal. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. It was hiding behind my pronounced widow's peak.



"Way to be cool?" Was it sarcasm? Was he mocking me?



There was only one way to deal with this insolence.




























 That inventory screen wasn't me being lazy - The words "Pepper Spray" don't show up with iDeaS for some reason. 

Alright, alright, I'm through kidding around. Everything was true up until the pepper spray. So, in order to meet B and the other potential babes at Club Sanctuary, D said I needed a VIP pass...

Also, I decided to go back and talk to L and D again, which got me another Golden Line for my Notebook. Basically, Lucas said that D and I should write for women's television and I came back with the zinger:

Women's television has come a long way in terms of story development and production quality, Lucas.

Genius! Pure gold! With the aerobics instructor line, that makes two for the notebook. Also that feebwols guy was wrong - I can most certainly say individual lines from the Notebook!

Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, I was feeling on top of the world when B wanted to see me at Club Sanctuary! Then D told me I needed to get some kind of VIP pass.



I don't need a VIP pass!
Um ... yeah, actually, you do.
How do I get one?
Thet're pretty tough to come by, but word is, you have to get in good with Conor [his real name, because I hate him!], the guy who runs the club.

From here on out in this thread, I'm referring to "Conor" as "Dickbag!" Because, as you will see, that is really the best description of him. And speak of the devil, a guy with perfectly sculpted hair, sporting a few thousand dollars worth of ski gear enters the shop.

It was Dickbag.



D left in a hurry. How bad could Dickbag be? Well, you're about to find out.

How would you have dealt with this guy? I needed the VIP pass, but he just seemed sworthy to me.








And to top things off, I was so mad that I didn't even want to use my items on him!

Guys, just to warn you, Dickbag talks pretty fast - it doesn't seem like I even have much of an opportunity to use items at any point in our conversation - and since I can't remember any of my Golden Lines without my notebook, I can't use those either! God I hate this guy on so many levels!

Alright, I got a lot of advice on this one, but seemed like a very slight majority of my Internet friends (and we're all buddies, right?) wanted me to go along with Dickbag and try for the VIP pass. I don't like it, but all's fair in love and war.

Looks like you got some sick boards in.
The display racks don't really do them justice.



I could barely contain my disgust with this little asshole! And then he threw a $50 bill on the counter!

Dickbag seemed a little out of it, though. Maybe he was on something? At any rate, there's a fifty on the counter now.

Do I take it?
Ignore it?
Throw it in his face?

Just for the record, this is how disgusted I was with Dickbag:



Well, I decided to kiss his ass. Grrr.

Yeah, of course ... can I help you with something?



Hmmm...



Hey, wait! I suddenly got an idea to use my items! Pepper spray time!



What? He's immune to pepper spray? I call bullshit! Well, maybe the other direction... I'll use the Amorous Action.



He seemed weirded out, but he still waited for me to follow up on what he just said.

It's definitely worth it, you can get a lot of bang for your buck.



Des Moines?! Who the fuck does this asshole think he is?


what?

Dubuque, actually.



Corn boy? This guy has a Golden Line Notebook of his own!

And speaking of which, I've got a pretty good zinger that will go in my Golden Line Notebook here! Just for a hint, here's what I've got so far:

- "No, you look like an aerobics instructor."
- "Women's television has come a long way in terms of story development and production quality, Lucas."

Think there's any new ones here I can add?



This purple one here looks nice.



You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?





The board never matters, it's the person on the board that makes a difference.

Uh oh. I hope he's not angry with me!

I like your style, you're blunt and you're not a pushover. What did you say your name was?



I didn't. But my name is Brett.



Grrrr. I hate you, Dickbag!



Guys, you may be having fun, but it's my life at stake! B! How am I gonna get to B?!

Brett. But you can call me Daddy.



... Holy shit, this is working?! You guys really are smart! Thank God I went to the Internet!



Well, you guys seem to think so.





If Duke Togo does it, it's gotta work!



Maybe not. (I suddenly started laughing for no reason at all.)



Hunh?! Oh sorry, I just thought of something funny.



Where did that come from?




Hmmmm... guys, I think we might have hit a snag. I'm thinking if I try to end this in a fight or something, like:

I can meet you sometime later and we can settle things.

Or even the Daddy line...

He might leave, and then:



Might happen. I mean, these are some quick MSPaints I threw together, but you get the idea. Anyway, I think Golgo is about where I went wrong, so I decided to say:

We got off on the wrong foot. Let's start over.

And Dickbag must be coked out of his mind on Mystic Powder because... he did! He started the ENTIRE CONVERSATION ALL OVER AGAIN! Ha, weird!

This time, instead of , I responded to his line about being a rich jerk with:

People can be very cruel sometimes, can't they?
I'll have you fired if you don't watch the attitude, Jack!

Crap. I wasn't doing so good on my own, either.



Sorry, I have a medical condition. SOmetimes I just blurt things out. JERK! See ...?
Right ... anyway, I want to get your friend B in on the contest, and the club hast to look good. That's where you come in with a favor.

What contest? Oh! I guess he meant that he was holding a contest of some sort at Club Sanctuary. But, I suppose he was so confused he forgot to mention it earlier. Weird.

I wanted to yell out "Get out of here before I impale you with a ski pole!" But I knew it would probably just lead back to him thinking I had an attitude problem.

I had to play it smart.

(Why did this conversation seem so arousing?)

How much does this favor mean to you?



"You betcha." I thought, but again, this could only lead to bad places.

Just kidding. What do you need?



And then he gave me the VIP Pass!

I'm going to get that B chick to enter the contest and you can witness all the estrogenial festivities! Thanks, Les!



It didn't really matter which one I said. Dickbag left anyway.



Wait... did Dickbag say something about B and his stupid contest ...? It smelled like a challenge ...

Would I accept the "mission"? (Wait, what mission? What the fuck was I talking about?)

I decided to answer with another Photoshop.



Next update: Let's flirt! With girls!

Five of them.

OMG!

I totally forgot to tell you guys the most fucked up part! Right after I got fired, Dickbag came back in:



And then he gave me his phone number! And a bunch of other stuff:









Time to MOVE ON!