Prom Night 2008

I Was Pumping A Tank Of $4.03 Per Gallon Gasoline...
when a slick, white Mercedes-Benz pulled into the bay next to me. I didn't pay much attention until the car's passengers, a pimply-faced teen, in a bad tuxedo (complete with a bad black shirt and a bad black cravat) and a pretty girl, wearing a passable prom-style dress, walked back to the car.

Aside from the fact that there are just so many things wrong with a black shirt and tie worn with a black tuxedo (or with anything else, for that matter), I didn't think too much of this young man's transgression; nor, did I give much attention to the young woman.

As I was getting my receipt (for $75.00 worth of gasoline), I watched the young man--forever known to me as "Douchebag One"--get into the car, while his date started to activate the pump.

Springing to action (after assessing the fact that I could kick the ass of Douchebag One), I said to the young woman, "Excuse me, but you are just too darned pretty to be pumping your own gasoline."

Her: "Thank you, but I think I can do it."

Me: "And, I know that there will be no sex on Prom Night, because your date has no balls."

Him: [Getting out of the car, straightening his get-up like Douchebaggy Bag, the famous Midwest Rapper.] "Hey! Like, what are you trying to say, Dawg?"*

Me: "That you, sir--and I use that term loosely--are a wimp and a weenie for letting such a beautiful young woman pump her own gas."

Him: "Dawg, it's...like...her car."

Me: "It doesn't...like...matter, Dawg. You should still do the right thing and at least offer to pump the gas. It's...like...a metaphor, Dawg."

Him: [Getting his Irish up.] "Daw..."

Me: [Giving him a roundhouse kick to the head, then filling her tank.]** "How old are you?"

Him: [Sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the nose.] "Ugh."

Her: "Seventeen. Why?"

Me: "Just wondering."

Her: "Are you doing anything tonight? I would love a real man to be my date to the prom."

And thus, the Legend of the Lifeguard grows...

*He was white. No self-respecting white man calls anyone (walking on two legs) "Dawg." For this alone, he deserved a boot to the head. He was also entitled to a boot to the head for the sartorial choices made earlier in the evening; for letting his date even get out of the car, let alone pump her own gasoline; for the (too) frequent use of the word, "like"; and, for planning to take her to TGI Friday's for her Prom Night Meal.

**"Filling her tank" was just that, pumping her gas. What else could I have meant, you sick bastards?