“Where the hell did you disappear too last weekend?” Erik asks as I straddle a bar stool. “Was trying to get a hold of you, but your cell phone was off, and you never turn that thing off. Hook up with some internet chick and bump uglies all day?” He and Robert were enjoying their after work beer.
“No, was just off in the woods” I still haven’t told them about Walker, although it wasn’t really a big deal I thought it best to keep his life quite. “What did you need that was so desperate, you never call anyone.”
“I wanted your eye, was thinking about buying a new bike. Found me a big ole metric v twin. Figure I might finally be able to outrun your 750. I went ahead and bought it, for 700 bucks how can I go wrong? Did you see it sitting outside?”
I hadn’t, but hadn’t really been looking so we walked out to look at his new ride. New is a lose term, new to him but definitely not new, the bike had been more than broken in. The tank was scraped on both sides where someone had lain the bike down. They must have been going at it pretty good when they did it, the rear brake on the right side had been bent and then poorly bent back into shape. Overall the bike looked like something the grim reaper would ride; no chrome just flat black paint and rust.
“Well for that price I thought it must be a little rough, but damn, this thing has been though hell.” Robert laughs as he criticizes the bike. “Hope the guy through in the can of spray paint he was using to touch it up. Bike this nice you know, don’t want the paint to not match!”
Erik responded by firing the bike up. Someone had hollowed out the mufflers so the bike was extra loud. Black and blue smoke fouled the air as he revved it with a foolish grin. “Lots of low end torque with these V twin motors, plus the center of gravity is lower than yours, you guys will never be able to keep up with me now. Once I get the horn working and get it licensed we will have to go out riding.”
We went back inside to finish our beers. For some strange reason there were actually women in the Stratford bar, a place few women dare to go. They were all together sitting at a table in the corner. Robert quickly makes inquiries as to what they are doing here. The waitress doesn’t know much, says they just came in for a drink after work.
“It’s the herd mentality, they bunch up. You got to attack, scatter them and then get the weakest one.” Robert says eyeing them. He has completely lost me and I ask him what he means. “It’s like a lion stalking a herd of antelope. You eye them up for a while, slowly creep in. When you get close you decide on who you are going to attack. Then go scatter them, try and break the one you want out of the herd. Run her down. Women are pack animals, ever wonder why they go to the bathroom in pairs? Keep the predators away.”
“Are you planning on eating this woman or buying her a drink?” Erik asks.
“First buy her a drink then I eat her, I’m a gentleman, and don’t worry, she’ll like the way I eat her.” Robert always has his mind in the gutter. “Now how to go about it? I hate it when they herd up, must be some way to sneak in there and make my presence known. I could scatter them by getting naked, throwing up, farting. But none of those things are going to bring them any closer.”
“Yeah I am thinking most of those will get you kicked out of here, but go ahead, would love to see you go vomit on their table.” Erik eggs him on.
“Table? I was going to barf in her hair. That way I can tell her how sorry I am, help her clean it up, make it up to her by buying her dinner. I would totally break her out of the herd by doing this. Now, if I just had some of that ipecac I could attack.” Robert pats at his pockets, “Damn, I left my ipecac at home. Looks like this lion is going to be starving tonight.”
I laugh and am reminded of Walker and his theory of breaking a horse out of the herd. It is pretty much the same idea. Track one down, learn about them, attract them somehow and perhaps tame them to where they can stand our touch and having us ride on their backs. Roberts approach is only slightly different, they are both hoping for the same results. I still don’t care. My doctor has slowly upped my dosage of testosterone to where I am slightly above normal, but it just isn’t the same.
“Well anyway, can you guys come by and help me with this electrical problem Saturday, afterword’s we can go riding.”
“I can’t” Robert says “I have a cook out planned for that day. You guys stop by afterwards though. Won’t be any chicks, just my sister and my lesbian cousin. Suppose you could try and pick her up but she is a bull dike. Bet she has a bigger dick than the two of you combined.”
We continue drinking and watching the herd. This kind of hunting is not so bad, good music and conversation. All we have to do is wait for one to show a sign of weakness. But an hour later there has not been a crack in their defenses. Out of desperation we ask the bartender how she would want a guy to approach her if she was out with her friends. She says she does not know, that when she is out with her friends it annoys her when guys interrupt them.
I often hear women say, “Guys never talk to us when we are out” but these same women never give a guy a chance. If they wanted to be talked to they should break free of the herd. When my x wife told me of her affair and how she met the guy “I was getting a drink at the bar” it sort of made sense. She had gone out dancing with her friends, got separated from the herd and someone swooped in and got her. Of course she could have resisted but she was bored with being married and decided to put a little spice in her life. I didn’t find out about the affair till years later, our marriage had recovered we were both madly in love with one another again and the guilt got to her.
I often wondered where I would be if she had just lived with the guilt. Ignorance is certainly bliss, but she had to clear her conscious and ruin my life. We held the marriage together for a few more years but that kind of betrayal is just too hard to overcome. Now I am stalking women the same way she was stalked, hoping for one to break free of the pack.
We leave the bar with plans for me to meet Erik next Saturday and have a look at his bike. Robert goes home the hungry lion with dreams of an easy kill. Erik fires up his beast from hell and roars off like a stage magician in a cloud of smoke.