The Revue — Surviving a Wild Night in the Unknown World of Amateur Male Stripping (Part 2)
Please find part I before proceeding.
“And nowwww ladiessssss…….. Straight from the dirt roads and back woods of Louisiana, scream from the top of your lungs for a virgin to the stage — TONY………… THE TIIIIGGGEEERRRRRRR!”
People. What happened next would change the way I view women forever. Not in a bad bad way, but let’s say, I will NEVER sKrip or pretend to be a sKripper never, ever-ever again.
I chugged the last of my beer and the next thing I heard was:
CAPtain-D COMIN, CAPtain-D COMIN, CAPtain-D COMIN, CAPtain-D COMIN…
Uncle Luke was bangin through the speakers when I busted on the stage shirtless. I was immediately deafened by the music. I mean, I’d been clubbing since college, but this was incredibly unbelievably loud!
The drums were pounding and I was shocked for a second by the scene. It sounded like somebody took a bunch of cats, skinned em, and lit fire to ‘em all at the same time.
Women, when y’all get together and get tipsy, y’all some maniacs. Especially round potential nekkidness.
I must’ve froze up for a hot second cause the announcer screamed, “C’mon ladies, make some NOOOOIIIIIIIIISSSE! Tony the Tiger is a DAAANNNNCCCCCE FLOOOOOOOOR VIRRRRGGGGIIIIN!!!
Now, I don’t know if any of y’all reading have actually heard a train wreck in real life, but imagine a train wreck, an 18 wheeler horn, screeching cats, and Uncle Luke shouting to the beat… That’s all I could hear.
I was a soldier though. I thought about the classic ATL ‘YEET’ dances I’d seen the Atlanta homies doing.
*side note* If you don’t know what an Atlanta YEET dance is, find a Native Atlantan and ask them.
I was working the stage, then down onto the floor with the audience. Grab a five dollar bill here. Women would ‘cop a feel’ or attempt to pull down my pants for a buck, slide me their number on a napkin and so on.
“TAKE IT OFF!!! TAKE IT OFF!!!”
Some heavy chicks in the front started screaming to the beat. I was both apprehensive and anxious. I was tickled at their eagerness, but astonished by their persistence for me to get nekkid.
Bucky Nakey.
They were out of their minds.
Looking back it was kinda funny. Blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol…
I would see women mouthing stuff, but I couldn’t hear jack. I’d just wink, smile and keep it moving.
I noticed my homeboys, laughed to myself, held up the $25-$30 bucks that I’d made in about a minute of my ‘revue’.
By then I was rolling, still a little tipsy and a little more comfortable with the stage and all the screaming desperate-hood-wives.
“TAKE IT OFF!!! TAKE IT OFF!!”
What started off as a little chant from a few big women in the front had turned into a straight up chorus.
“TAKE IT OFF!!! TAKE IT OFF!!”
Now the emcee, Camron, started screaming it through the mic too. “TAKE IT OFF!!! TAKE IT OFF!!”
I did what any amateur sKrrripper in my position would do. I stepped my game up. There was a lady in the front who had to be mid-forties holding $10 bucks up. I made my way toward her, pulled her and her chair out from the table, straddled her — and got to grinding.
Y’all know the chair grind dance the professional sKKKKrrippers do to bachelorette’s? Well, that’s what ya boy AJ *ahem* TONY THE TIGER did.
I’d like to say that this is when women started making it rain. But that ain’t what happened. No, no, no, no, NO. That’s where everything went wrong. Horribly wrong.
Just as I finished my chair-slow-grind-sKripper dance I feel some hands pulling the back of my pants. I know it’s not woman in the chair cause I’m looking at her. Then, the woman in the front snags my belt and in two quick motions she unbuckled it.
Next thing you know it’s like three broads pullin down on my pants. I’m tryin to be cool, hold my pants up and continue my gyrations because I knew security was gone get em off me, but it happened way too fast.
What happened?
The fat-azz saber toothed cougar girl behind me bit me on the booty. HARD. AS. HELL.
That’s right. I was blatantly bit on the booty through my boxer briefs by a bearish looking big broad. And I ain’t bull-shattin.
“DAMN LADY!” I was in sheer agony. Camron, Big C Train, the announcer saw this and screamed with laughter. I looked around and my homeboys were doubled over with tears in their eyes.
By this time security grabbed the skank who bit my azz and got her in check. I grabbed the dollar dollar bills and took my narrow behind back stage. I have to be honest, it hurt like hell.
Uncle Luke was still bumping through the speakers and Camron screamed to the crowd — “One more time for Tony the TIIIGGGGER… give it up ladies.”
Then he came back stage. “She took a bite outta that azz…” he said through his laughter. He was laughing his azz off. “Helluva first run Tony. You aight?” The other amateurs and professionals laughed and cracked jokes but I ain’t think it was that funny.
“How much cheese you end up with? You were only out there like 3 minutes. You ain’t even finish your song.” Another amateur asked.
I counted two ten dollar bills, six five dollar bills, and unballed about nine singles. “Fifty-nine dollars.”
Camron walked over and with a shot glass and a bottle of Courvoisier. “Boy you were doing yo thang til she bit that azz. You got yo cherry busted.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing as we drank our shot.
Three minutes, fifty-nine dollars, a few phone numbers on napkins and a bite on the azz. Oh what a night.
Afterward my boys laughed and til this day — whenever we hear Uncle Luke’s — “SCARRED” we remember our night at Sharon’s Showcase.
That’s what Freaknic did for me.
This is the story of my one and only Male Revue.
I’ll end this email with some very profound lyrics from Uncle Luke’s SCARRED.
CAPtain D coming… (Captain D coming)
Fellas… (Fellas)
Hootie hootie hooo!
Peace, love and email.
AJ
