Boberino McPervstar

Friday evening was my friend Cary's birthday par-tay.

Jonathan and I got dolled up and headed out to the far reaches of Oak street, there to celebrate and be merry... or so we thought (cue ominous music).

We met at Cary's where the usual cast of characters was assembled, drinking their way through litres of alcohol, and perfuming the air with clouds of herbal smoke.

After knocking back a drink or two we headed over to the local pub in the hopes of playing a few games of pool, and of course, drinking until our eyes (or whatever we'd had for dinner) fell out.

Seeing the pool table empty, we converged upon it, nabbing the surrounding 4 or 5 tables. This would prove to be a mistake... a very bad mistake.

Just as the men-folk were to begin their first game of pool, I felt an uneasy stirring, a lifting of the small hairs on my neck. An unnatural scent stung my nostrils, causing my eyes to water. Suddenly, from a shadowed doorway, out leapt a man (if one could call him that) crying out "Stop, whoa, sorry guys, this is my table. My game. You wait your turns, eh? Heh heh heh."

He was dressed in the garb one would usually associate with lower class pimps. The best word I could use to describe him is "shiny". His shirt was a shiny silver, pinstriped with shiny black. This was tucked into a pair of very tight black pants, which tapered down to a pair of shiny black pointy toed shoes. A gold chain flashed around his neck, and his hair was slicked back with so much gel I could practically see my reflection in it.

The boys shuffled back in horror as he approached the table.

"I'm set up to play a game here fellas heh heh heh, but maybe one of yous can play the loser, eh? Heh heh heh!" His bleached teeth gleamed too white in his dark, slimy face.

We all nodded, mesmerized, and he proceeded to play a very bad game of pool against an elderly Asian gentleman. As they were finishing, the shiny pimp invited Cary to play a game of doubles against him and his elderly Asian friend. Being very drunk at this point, and always a little too friendly for his own good, Cary volubly agreed to this, dragging an unwilling party-goer to his side.

What proceeded was an awkward 15 minutes of awkward pool which Cary awkwardly lost when it became apparent that Shiny-pimp and Elderly-Asian were pool sharks. Throughout this display, Shiny-pimp was constantly strutting past the row of seats where I and a couple of girlfriends had perched to view the proceedings. Every time he made a shot he would laugh his rehearsed "heh heh heh" whilst parading his shiny glory to and fro in front of us, winking at each lady in turn and "glancing" (see staring) at our chests.

The game finished, he presented himself to each male party-goer in turn, shaking their hand with an obnoxious "Justin? Boberino, good to meetcha. Jonathan? Boberino, howya doin?"

My lady friends and I waited in abject horror as he got closer and closer to our cowering bevy.

He reached me first.

"Hello, my lovely, and who might you be?" he slimed down at me, hand extended.

Now, I don't know about you, but there were certain rules drilled into me as a child; always say please, when asking for something. Always say thank you, when you've received it. Always hold doors open for the elderly... always shake hands, when a hand is offered.

So it was an automatic reaction that lifted my hand and placed it firmly into "Boberino's".

"I'm... urgh!... ah!... um, Chelsea, I'm Chelsea!" I stammered, whipping my hand away as though scorched.

Feeling violated, I watched him repeat this sleaze-fest down the row of women, watching as their faces registered first trepidation, then terror as he did to them what he'd done to me; with my hand firmly trapped in his, he'd sexually fondled the sensitive skin of my wrist with his slimy fingers.

This may not sound all THAT bad to you, but believe me, it was enough to send all of us shuddering off to the washroom to scrub ourselves clean of his iniquitous touch.

One girl voiced the thought that he had done with his finger what he'd like to do with his... well, we were thoroughly disgusted.

But what I wonder is, has that ever worked? Does he use that move because at one point, some sad, sad woman met Boberino, was mesmerised by his shiny shell, and upon feeling his groping finger molesting the inside of her wrist, was thoroughly swept off her feet?

I hope not. But if that woman exists, know this...

We're not angry, we're just very disapointed.