Post by budwilson on Jul 6, 2019 16:56:37 GMT -5
Bud Wilson rests his elbows on the prize case at the local bowling alley's arcade. Hair slicked back and tied in a ponytail and a toothpick dangles from his bottom lip like it's held there by glue. Musky, pungent, overwhelming, these are some words you may use to describe his smell... his essence.
A young blonde mildly attractive girl, who is maybe in her late teens, is working the prize counter tonight. Bud is giving her what he calls, the magic touch. Which in reality is just sexual harassment, a series of unwelcome sexual advances and inapropriate comments.
This is pretty typical of Bud, most people known bud simply by the monkier "Scumbag" and as our story progresses you'll understand exactly just why.
The longer you know about Bud, the more you learn about Bud, the more convinced you become, Scumbag isn't just a nickname. Scumbag is Bud's identity, his superpower if you will. When you look up the word Scumbag in any dictionary printed after 1979, Bud's picture is there. I'm not kidding, look for yourself.
Bud: Baby girl, don't do me like that. I'm only 18 tickets short. You can let it "slide" for 18 tickets. I'm a regular, I'm here everyday.
Prize Girl: Listen Scumbag, I told you last time no more freebies. Besides I'm certain these are the tickets that little kid was crying about losing about a half hour ago. You're either going to have to go get 18 more tickets or pay the difference in cash, otherwise I'm not giving you this back scratcher.
Bud: Baby, baby, hold on just a sec. I didn't say anything about free. Bud always pays his debts. I told you, if you hook me up then I'd take you out for a drink after you get off.
Prize Girl: I'm 17, and not even the slightest bit interested, you're a disgusting scumbag old man. Also, Mr. Settleyourdebts. You still owe me twelve bucks from last month.
Bud: You're a fat cow, who needs you?
Bud pushes off the counter and spins around on the heels of his feet. The momentum causes several prizes and displays to tip over and spill out. The prize girl crouches down to pick them up which prompts Bud to turn around one more time to try and peek down her shirt.
Bud: You sure about that drink baby girl? You know the bartender in my basement doesn't ever card.
Prize Girl: You're a scumbag.
Bud: Suit yourself heffer. MOOO!
Bud kicks the counter before he struts away. Several other displays spill out onto the floor as the prize girl throws her arms in the air and let's out a sigh of frustration.
Bud struts his way towards the front doors of the bowling alley passing by tables of families eating pizza and friends drinking beer and enjoying each other's company.
He notices a unattended beer that belongs to a father who knelt down tying his child's shoe. Bud looks left, he looks right, he scans his surroundings and when he figures the coast is clear he swipes the beer and walks off towards the exit. Smugly strutting and sipping his stolen beer as he exits through the automatic sliding doors