The Penis Guy

Click here to see something hilarious from the ACTUAL menu at the taqueria featured in this article

by seven

Siren and I just had a very strange night. We went to Rudyard’s bar just like we do every Sunday night, and were too trashed to drive all the way home, so we stopped off at the local taqueria as we have been known to do on several occasions after a wild night at Rudz. It is now 4:32 am and I am so glad to be home, I can’t even explain it.

First, some background info for you: last Sunday night, we stopped off to let our drunkenness wear off and there was a commotion going on at Ruchi’s. (the taqueria responsible for our vegetarianism? you know the one...) There was an African American gentleman arguing with some customers at a booth. He was standing right next to us loudly blabbing about someone he didn’t like. We didn’t catch the whole conversation, but the parts we heard were things like “I hate that bitch. She deserves to DIE!” and “that’s the kind of bitch where I would just slit her throat and leave her to DIE in a fuckin’ ditch. That’s how much I hate her.” Needless to say, Siren and Se7ven both were a bit freaked out. Later on that night, through some odd chain of events, this man’s pants were pulled down, underwear and all. He seemed less than bothered by this when it happened. He stood there in the middle of the restaurant with his pants and underwear pulled down as if it were an everyday occurrence. Someone else (a male) finally pulled them back up for him as he stood shamelessly in the middle of Ruchi’s with his penis flailing this way and that. Since that night, he was named “The Penis Guy” for reasons obvious to anyone who just read this. We expected, nay, HOPED to god that it was our last encounter with him, but alas, our prayers would go unanswered, as we had a run in with him YET AGAIN tonight.

We sat down and ordered our food, only to have him SIT DOWN at our table and try to start a conversation with us. He told me I was cute. I told him thanks. He said he wanted to call me and I said too bad. He said he really wanted to keep in touch with us, so I gave him our webpage address. He asked what the purpose of our webpage was, and I told him we make fun of stupid people. He started in with the whole “so what makes you better than everyone else?” mumbo jumbo and I gave him our usual spiel about how we’re better than everyone and they can all kiss our ass if they don’t agree.. blah blah blah. Nothing unusual. But in my attempt to be a bitch, I ended up turning him on even more. He was like “You’re a bitch to everyone,” and I replied, “So?” and he went, “I like that!” DAMMIT! I was trying to get him to go AWAY but he wouldn’t! I ended up making him more interested than before! Stupid penis-having bastard. Luckily thank GOD I saw a guy that I knew, Foster, at the counter. I went up to him and begged him to come talk to us and save us from this throat-slitting freak who wouldn’t leave our table. He complained that all his friends were waiting for him outside, but he ended up talking to us anyway, and the penis-guy left. Let’s all take a moment of silence to thank the Lord that Foster was there to save us. Everyone reading this please give him a big pat on the back.

The Penis Guy, Continued

By Siren

I don't think we'd have even had a tinge of fear had we not heard this guy professing his desire to see some "bitch" dead the week before. That, and the whole penis thing, which made him a wee (no pun intended) bit creepy. Seven had actually forgotten about the throat-slitting thing, and thus was excellent at being a bitch. I, on the other hand, sat there blankly staring, thinking about how much I enjoyed the lack of throat slitting I have experienced thusfar in my life. We're thankful as hell that Foster was there to bail us out, but the thing that really pisses me off, now that I think about it, is this: When Seven was explaining the situation to Foster at the counter, you know, the whole bit about how much we wanted this guy to leave us alone, how creeped out we were, the man behind the counter heard every word. Did he do anything to assist us in our plight? Absolutely not. This was the guy who was running the place. A big burly Mexican guy with a take-charge attitude. He unfortunately did not see fit to take charge of THIS situation. This is one of those seedy taquerias that illegally serves beer all night in soda glasses. It's also the kind of taqueria where one can go to view some strange guy's penis, apparently. The kind where a situation might arise which would cause two girls to seek refuge in the bathroom for fifteen minutes before bolting out the door and screeching away from there at breakneck speed, so as to make sure they aren't followed.

That's all I really have to say for now, though I'm sure I'll remember something else that needs to be bitched about. Once again, we must thank Foster. And whatever the opposite of "thank" is, we'd like to send out to the guy behind the counter who didn't do squat to help us out.