Jonathan Mooseknuckles walked right into Shaftholes, a divey sorta bar.
He didn't have Bilf's cock aura, but he had a pretty firm grip on his confidence and that tended to impress bouncers, who generally don't share that grasp.
Jonathan ordered a drink at the bar. "Bloody Mary, extra bloody," he said, winking.
The bartender eventually slid a sludgy crimson glass to Jonathan.
"That'll be $7.50."
"I'm not a vampire," said Jonathan, recycling a joke from earlier.
"Then you're gonna wanna avoid the cholesterol on the rim," shot back the bartender. He then turned into a bat and flew down the bar to the next customer.
"Hey," you could hear him saying in the distance, "Since I just took the shape of a bat and I'm about to take your drink orders, does that make me a 'bat render bartender?'"
It was a pretty weak play on words.
"Please don't tip based on that," he continued, "What'll you have?"
Jonathan tuned him out. There was a woman in front of him.
He was fixated.
She was gorgeous. Black hair, pulled back. Brown eyes. High, round cheeks.
And she was curvy in all the places. Which turned out to be all the right places. If you've got curves, flaunt it.
She was also straight in all the right places. Her teeth, mostly. The edges of her fingernails. Her rectum, Jonathan assumed.
I mean, he didn't know yet. But he wanted to find out.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said, sliding up to her. "I'm Jonathan."
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