My uncle George "Porgie" Stadler was, by all accounts, ahead of his time. He was the prototypical slacker, born 2 generations too early. He lived with his mother for the majority of his life and paid little to no rent/bills/food/etc...
It seemed that this carpenter/carpet layer enjoyed spending his money elsewhere: The strip club.
When I was roughly 8 or 9 years old, my mother and I moved into my grandmother's house in Southwest Philadelphia. Uncle Porgie occupied the back room at the time, which he kept private with a deabolt lock on his door. For years I wondered what he might have been doing in there. It wasn't like he was a shut-in, either. Porgie was always out at the local steak shop, carousing and playing the lottery until he was broke.
Now, to say my uncle was a sex addict might be a little extreme, but boy did he love the ladies. His problem, however, was that they were never all that interested unless he was paying.
Which brings us to the night in question; It started off like a normal night in the Stadler residence. Hot dogs, elbow macaroni, and pasta sauce for dinner, along with a gallon of Arctic Splash iced tea. Just hearing that made me hungry. Anyway, I had just finished the second rerun of Home Improvement when Porgie comes down the steps reaking of Brut and cigar smoke. Without a word, he stormed out the door, leather jacket and all.
Usually, this meant he'd be gone for the night, but that wasn't to be.
Around midnight, Uncle Porgie emerges at the front door, and this time he's not alone. This tall, uber-trashy, ultra-eighties-style blonde bimbo sporting ripped fishnets, a short acid-wash skirt and a lace black top is hanging on his arm like he was Hugh Hefner and she badly needed a spread.
He walks into the living room, chest puffed out, like he had just hit the hot chick lotto. At this point, only myself and my cousin Bryan were awake, and we knew Uncle Porgie loved prostitutes, but we've never seen one in person. You know, like when you're a kid watching porn for years and you finally get to see your first vagina. Yea, it was kinda like that.
"I want you to meet Pam" Porgie said in a condescending tone. "Hey low" she mumbles, clearly fighting off the urge to pass out. Being the gentlemen I am, I was qucik to point out the obvious. "What happened to your teeth?" I said curiously. "Hey, that's not nice, come on babe" he dismissed us.
His lady friend could hardly walk, let alone scale 20 steps up to the second floor. Yet, he pushed her up there step by step, and when I say pushed I mean pushed. Finally the pair of star-crossed or star-dazed lovers were ready to make good on their deal. Unfortunately for Porgie, he couldn't get the key out of his pants to unlock the deadbolt on his door fast enough.
I had turned my attention to the ottoman where I intended to sleep when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a bird... no a plane... no... it was a FLYING PROSTITUTE! She fell so graciously, not touching a step on her way backwards down the stairs. Her voyage ended when the back of her head hit the wall and her body folded up like an accordian.
"Oh my God!" I shouted. "Damnnnnn!" Bryan added. "F*ck!" Porgie exclaimed as he ran down the steps as fast as a sickly middle-aged man could.
"What the hell happened, did you push her?" Bryan asked in disbelief. "No, I was trying to unlock the door..." Porgie explained, "She fell on her own." "She's bleeding!" I yelled, cowering in the corner. "Get her on the couch" Porgie ordered while grabbing her ankles. Bryan and I helped grab the other half of her lifeless body and move her to the couch, where it became apparent that she was bleeding because the crooked and checkered teeth that I had mocked earlier in the evening had pierced her lip and where still poking through. Porgie quickly grabbed a cup of water and dumped it on her face in hopes of reviving her. "Call an ambulance, she's not waking up!" Bryan said reaching for the phone. "No, No, I'll wake her up. Come on, babe. Wake up. Come on." Porgie pleaded in a not-so concerned way.
Now, I'm not sure if this is possible, but she came to but was even more lethargic than she was before the big fall. Blood still dribbling out of the holes in her lips, Porgie picked her up like he was preparing to carry her through the threshold, but unfortunately for her he proceeded to carry her to his room.
At this point, I'm assuming my Uncle, being a stand up guy and all, would let her rest and bring her breakfast in bed in the morning along with some painkillers. But of course, we're talking about my Uncle.
No sooner he locked the deadbolt to his door, he was soon drilling in it. Bryan confirmed it by placing his 1980s cassette deck tape recorder up to his door to hear the action. Since this tape no longer exisits, I will re-enact the content in words.
Porgie: "Oooh yea, baby. ooh yea.."
Flying Prostitute: "Uh, Georgie..."
Porgie: "mmmm yea"
Flying Prostitute: "Is it in yet, Georgie?"
Porgie: "I'm coming!"
So the prostitute got a bit more than she bargained for and Porgie, God rest his soul, got what he paid for; all 30 seconds of it.
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