Tammi G and a Season in Hell: Part I

It’s summertime!, so last week, Tammi Gymnastics and I decided to go swimming.  About ten minutes after we arrived at the public pool, we got kicked out by a fifteen year-old lifeguard.  Typically, Tammi doesn’t follow anyone’s orders except for mine on occasion, but the tan son-of-a-bitch looked serious when he threatened to call the cops for lewdness, and Tammi already had a court date coming up for a similar offense.  “Fine, mother fucker,” she said dismissively, as she slipped her wet feet back into her sky-high sling-back pumps.  I frankly was pissed off we didn’t get to swim longer, so as Tammi squished by in her heels, I grabbed her leopard-print swimsuit from behind and gave her an atomic wedgie.  She didn’t really seem to mind, so I quit being a bitch, and helped her adjust her suit back to normal. 

“Honey, I need you to drive so I can reapply my makeup,” Tammi directed when we approached her car.  I was midway through putting on my potato sack dress over my bikini, so Tammi didn’t notice the massive smile that spread across my face.  “No problem,” I squawked as she handed me the keys.  “Let’s go to my apartment and mix some drinks.”  I took a moment to size up Tammi’s car.  It was an ’88 blue Mustang convertible with white stripes, white leather interior and a tape deck.  This muscle car only had 44,000 miles on it, and was in mint condition since it had been garage-kept most of its life.  It’s the type of fine machinery that requires lines of coke on the dashboard at all times while parked, and two Dobermans sitting stoically in the back seat wearing diamond-studded collars and sunglasses for good measure (just kidding about the diamonds, gross).  I raised my eyebrows with lust while I pet the cobalt hood encasing the pristine V-8 engine…..fuck, this car was so choice.  After I stopped drooling and both of us were in the car, I put in a Mariah Carey cassette and sped out of the parking lot.

On the freeway, I worked into my routine of weaving in and out of traffic.  I was gaining good rhythm when all of a sudden I got a strange feeling that someone was following us.  After inspecting the rearview mirror, I reckoned the highway patrol wasn’t anywhere nearby, but I sped up anyway.  Tammi finished smearing on her eyeliner – which looked sort of crooked – and glanced over at me and smiled.  She didn’t seem to think anything was wrong or off, so I calmed down a little and started singing along to the tape:  “Well, I guess I’m tryin’ to beeee nonchalant about it.  Goin’ to extreeemes to prove I’m fine without ‘cha.  But in reality IIIIIII’m slowly losin’ my miiiiiind…”  God bless Mariah.  God bless Mariah while speeding recklessly.  I was nearing the exit, and Tammi decided I didn’t need to pay as much attention to driving as I was, so she tapped me on the shoulder to show me her applying-lipstick-with-the-cleavage trick.  Nice.  Already been done on a certain 80s-movie-I-won’t-name-because-if-you-don’t-know-the-reference-you-had-a-suppressed-childhood-and-I-feel-bad-now twenty some-odd years ago, but nice.

While I started letting down the gas towards the freeway exit, something abruptly whispered into my ear:  “Make the city eat its dust.  Oxidize the waterspouts.  Fill boudoirs with the burning powder of rubies…The air of Hell will tolerate no hymns!”  I slammed my foot on the brake, and Tammi’s lipstick tube popped out of her swimsuit and landed in between her legs onto the white leather seat.  “What tha fuck d’ya think you’re do-win’!?” Tammi screamed.  She ordered me to pull over and get in the passenger side.  This woman next to me was livid.  I fucked with her car, and now I was going to pay.  Instead of Bourbon-and-Cokes at my place, she informed me we would be going to........THE MALL....................to be continued...................