Spit It, Slap It, Smack It Down





I don’t like strip clubs. Even though just about every stripper has all the characteristics of the type of girl I am totally in to, I just can’t stand the scene. And the times I do go, believe it or not, I am fairly reserved.  But it is here at a Florida strip club I meet one of the craziest dudes ever. 

Khaos and I get a ride up to West Palm Beach from the bartender of the bar we were just at to meet up with some of his old buddies. He used to live in West Palm when he played in the minor leagues. On the flight to Florida he went on and on about this one crazy friend he has and that I had to meet him and hang out with him at a strip club.

BD:     Why are we meeting them at Hooters, Hooters is lame.

Khaos:    I hooked up with a waitress here.

BD:        Serious?

Khaos:    Serious, hopefully we can set up some ass for after the strip club.

BD:  Good thinking Khaos, I am impressed!

So we meet up with his buddy. First Impression: This guy is too soft spoken to be any fun. Little skinny guy with long hair like he just came out of a Hanson video. Normally I would name him Hanson but his name in my cell phone to this day is Purplemouth. How he got that name is a whole other story I’m sure he’d kill me if I told.

We pile into Purplemouth's little BMW. As we drive up we can see the club from two blocks away. It's glowing bright neon green, we see the enticing, promiscuous glow before we can even see the building. Cheetah of West Palm Beach, here we come.

It’s Khaos, Purplemouth and myself at a table right next to the raised dance floor. Purplemouth takes the five stacks of a hundred, one dollar bills and makes a pile about three inches high on the table.

Purplemouth:   Ha! Look at them all gravitate to our table. Just like moths to a bright light…

BD:      I hate strip clubs.

Purplemouth:   You just don't know how to have fun at them, watch this.

A stripper is dancing in front of us on stage, shoving her ass in our faces, he looks at me with an odd little smile, grabs a dollar bill, holds it flat in his hand in front of his face, spits on it and slaps it on her ass. The spit makes it stick flat against her ass as she walks off.

BD:   Holy shit man, you're gonna get us kicked out of here!!

Purplemouth:   No way dude, they LOVE it. Watch.

Two more come over and turn around in front of him. He grabs a dollar in each hand, spits on the bills and slaps them on their asses at the same time. He is not doing this in a subtle way at all. Everyone in the club is now watching this guy. I am sitting right next to him with my hand over my mouth mumbling to myself "Oh. My. God. We’re getting arrested."

He continues this overly animated series of events for some time. My only refuge is to drink. Bud Lights never went down so fast. About an hour into this, there are no lie, 30 empty beers on our table and a few hundred one dollar bills still. There is no room on the table at all. I take a moment and look around to assess the situation, people are literally cheering Purplemouth on. Strippers are now lining up to get dollar bills covered in spit slapped on their ass. The whole club cheers if it sticks. What a scene.

Out of the fog of strippers one of them comes up and straddles Purplemouth. She puts her little top and purse on the table. This knocks over a half empty beer bottle and soaks a large number of the bills on the table. She is now making out with Purplemouth and her back is to the table. At the time it seemed totally logical to me to take her top and soak up all the beer with it. After most of the beer is absorbed by the low quality lacey whore top, I start trying to dry off the dollar bills with it and this is when she turns around.

Whore:   What the fuck are you doing?

BD:         Cleaning, go back to whoring and quit bugging me.

Whore:   That’s my fucking top.

BD:         That’s your fucking mess you made also.

Whore:    Why didn't you get towels or napkins then fucker!

BD:         Your shirt was closer.

Whore:    You going to fucking pay for my shirt?

BD:         You are welcome to take whatever quantity of these wet, one dollar bills it takes to shut you up.

She jumps off of Purplemouth and storms away and we didn't see her the rest of the night. Purplemouth looks pissed.

Purplemouth:   Dude that wasn't cool.

BD:     Fuck her who cares she's a random whore.

Purplemouth:    Na, I have been seeing her, we are kind of together.

BD:      Ha, not any more. Apparently she doesn't like your friends.

Just then a random lady and her husband come up to us.

RandomLady:   Hey guys you having a good time?

Purplemouth:   Hell yes, who are you?

RandomLady:   Me and my husband are just here hanging out.

BD:  Night of quiet romance huh?

RandomLady:   Here, can you guy keep doing the spitting thing you were doing before?

She dumps about fifteen one dollar bills onto our pile on the table and walks off. I look at Purplemouth.

BD:    What the fuck, did that just happen?

Purplemouth:  Hahah, even that's a first for me.

BD:    Fuck it make her happy dude she gave you money!

Purplemouth then starts up again, slapping spitwad dollar bills on whores, even the DJ said something on the sound system about our table. And this happened a few times over the next hour or two. Every time he stopped doing it, some random person would come up to us and give us a hand full of dollar bills to keep doing it. It was the first and only time I have been in a strip club and random people give us money to give to strippers. If I wasn’t there and it didn’t happen to us I’d never believe something like this was even possible.

My memory of the end of that night isn't exactly clear. I remember we had to leave, quickly, for one reason or another but it was not because of the spitwad slapping. Whatever the case, we never got all the way through those dollar bills. I know this because I woke up with a crumbled up wad of wet, glittery dollar bills the size of a softball in my pocket. 


Holy hell. Wet whore dollars stink!