Date: Wed, 20 Sep 1995 23:14:15 -0700
Title: fubsy or gun?

Bikers, late Wednesday night. The Biker habitues, including Claire, Vern,
Tod and a couple others, line the bar.  As usual, Claire is haranguing on
about how Slut Jane and Friend Shane had no business prying into the business
of anyone. "Who ARE they anyway?" she asks her metal beer mug. It does not
answer.
*ha.bi.tue n [F, fr. pp. of habituer to frequent, fr. LL habituare
to habituate, fr. L habitus] (1818): one who may be regularly
found in or at (as a place of entertainment)  .

"I heard tell them two were some sorta representatives from one of the
hamburger chains. They were, accordin' to someone, lookin' to buy into
the biker bar chain, maybe even take it over," Tod mutters from the other
end of the bar.
"Nawww, Man! they was en-FORCE-ment, man. That dude Shane was packin', and I
don't mean fish! He was packin' some sorta iron 'cause I felt it when I
grabbed him. I think she carrys too, ya know? Both of 'em coulda lost a little
weight, far's I'm concerned!"  Vern guffaws, takes another deep draw from
his beer and flexes his biceps brachii as he does so.

Claire can't resist, "That power-suit-slut's nuthin' but fubsy. She was NOT
carryin', 'cause if she was she SURE as shit woulda pulled down on me after
Vern lettum go. Besides, they were too DUMB to be heat, ya know?"
*fubsy adj [obs. E fubs (chubby person)] (1780): chubby and somewhat
squat.

Jake replaces Claire's empty mug with another draft. As she reaches for it
he takes her hand and looks into her dark eyes, "You gotta be more careful
babe. That bitch will return. Watch yer back. I don't wanna loose ya..."


Thursday
Followed
Me here
From
last
WEEK!

later,
d.




----------------------------------************----------------------------
Dick Ellis, Librarian
San Diego Supercomputer Center
(619)534-5171 (voice)
(619)534-5117 (fax)
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        "Go Moan for Mankind..."
            J. Kerouac