Date Raped by a Gimp: The True Story

One night while walking through the lower eastside of Manhattan, I stumbled on this little Latin club on Houston with a sign out front that read: “$3 Tequila Shots”.  I didn’t have anything else to do and so naturally I decided to go in.  I was the only Black person in the entire place, so I pretty much stayed to myself at the bar all night.  I remember from that last time I got arrested in Tijuana that combined with cheap tequila; Mexicans can have a tendency to get a little rowdy.  I learned firsthand that night that the combination of three dollar shots, and a room full of 5’2” men with cowboy boots, isn’t always a good thing.

After about six shots, I noticed this Latin woman across the room in a bright red shawl giving me the eye.  I could already tell from where I stood that she wasn’t all that cute, and her body was shaped sort of like a disco speaker; but I was drunk and by this time extremely horny, so naturally I said what the hell do I have to lose?  I went over and introduced myself, and then brought her back over to the bar for a couple of rounds.  The entire time we were talking I was thinking to myself, “Yeah…I’d do her.”  Hell, I had certainly fucked worse.  After a few more shots she got comfortable and eventually decided to remove her shawl.  Suddenly out from under the shawl popped this little miniature baby arm, and it had a stubby little hand on the end with about 3½ fingers on the end of it.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  Her left arm was completely normal.  However her right arm was only about eleven inches long and just sort of dangled there close to her chest like a dinosaur.

At first I thought maybe it was me.  After all, I was pretty smashed.  I tried to shake it off, but when I opened my eyes, the little funny arm was still dangling there.  I thought to myself “What the f*ck?”  I was devastated.  I mean seriously, are you allowed to just spring a little baby arm on someone like that without first giving them some kind of a warning?  Shots or no shots, this hardly seemed fair.  That’s when it hit me.  I, Brett Sanders had just been hoodwinked.  She purposely used the old “bait & switch” by covering up her little baby arm.  She knew damn well that any descent guy would have to be a pretty fucked up individual to just run off when they saw it.  It’s called “Handicapped Guilt”.  So as a result, the poor fella would be trapped into staying there.  Dare I say, it was genius.  I was definitely trapped.  Like a sick game of poker old “One Armed Sally” was calling my bluff; and I wasn’t about to fold.  I figured two can play this game.  So, I just continued on with our conversation as if everything was just normal.  Score one for the kid.  I tried to pretend like I didn’t even see the little baby arm; which was pretty difficult seeing how she was one of those people who constantly uses their hands to emphasize their point.  I realized that she must have been on to me; because she suddenly began gesturing and pointed with her dead hand now even more than ever.  At one point she even used it to toss her hair out of her face, which really f*cked me up.  That’s when I thought, “Touché.  This bitch is obviously a professional.”  Nevertheless, I was determined to stand my ground.

After three more tequila shots she eventually wanted to dance.  So, she grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out onto the dance floor.  Now here I am the only brother in the place, drunk out my mind, and Salsa dancing with a girl with a little T- Rex arm.  Somehow, this was not what I envisioned for my Saturday night.  Although the entire room was doing Salsa, I knew that there was no way in hell that I was touching this woman’s little dead hand.  So thinking fast on my feet, in the middle of a room full of Salsa dancers, I immediately broke into the Electric Slide; anything to keep from touching that hand.  I tried to get her to join in with me, but it didn’t work.  She was still insistent on trying to do Salsa, even though I was obviously noncompliant.  Every time she grabbed for me with her T Rex hand, I’d quickly snatch my hand back; pretending it was some hip new urban dance I was doing.  At one point she even twirled herself back into a dip.  Not realizing that I wasn’t there to catch her, she ended up sailing backwards into a row of tables and chairs.  It was pretty clear at this point that this chic obviously wasn’t too bright.  Being a gentleman, I did at least try to reach out and stop her from falling; but unfortunately she reached out to me with the wrong hand.  Thank God those bouncers were there to help her up off the floor.  By the time she dusted herself off and got herself back together, I was already back at the bar for last call.  With blood now on her knee from the fall, she hobbled back over and bought us both one last final round.  Talk about a real trooper.

Now from here on out, this is where the story gets a little hazy.  At some point during the night I must’ve blacked out; because when I finally awoke, we were now both back at her apartment way up in the Bronx.  I’m pretty sure she must have slipped me a ruffie or put something in my drink; because when I came to; I was literally laying flat on my back in her bed, with her straddled on top of me riding me.  I thought, “How the hell did this just happen?  One second I’m sitting at the bar, and the next I’m f*cking a quadriplegic.”  It was like that TV show Quantum Leap gone completely wrong.  Now I’m not sure if it was the ruffie, or the eleven tequila shots; but suddenly whatever she was doing, actually started feeling kind of good.  I mean… for a one armed girl, this chic apparently had a few tricks up her sleeve.  The only thing that kept throwing me off, was that her little baby arm just sort of dangled there the entire time she was riding me.  Because I was drunk, for some reason I kept thinking she was trying to wave hello to me; so I kept saying “Hi” back.  The whole thing with the hand really starting to freak me out and so still a little drunk, I tried to cover it up by hanging my baseball cap over it.  But unfortunately the hat kept on slipping off her nub.

I realized that this position wasn’t exactly working for me, so I flipped her around on her back and then I got on top missionary style.  Just as I was beginning to get back into my groove, I looked up and realized that now the little claw was even closer to my face.  And for some strange reason her little chubby fingers smelled just like salami.  I thought, “Damn, did we stop for cold cuts on the way here?”  I just couldn’t win.  I tried to block the claw out of my head and keep going, but then the next thing you know, she began slapping me in the face with it and yelling, “You like that..huh?  You like that?”  When I felt her little clammy hand touch my the side of my face, I literally almost died.  Trying to keep my cool, I replied “Uhm… can you maybe find something else to do with that?”  She asked what and I replied, “I don’t know.  Anything, be creative.”  Seconds later, just as I was about to climax, I could not believe it.  She actually stuck one of her little salami smelling fingers inside of my mouth.  Talk about a mood killer.

I couldn’t get out of that bedroom fast enough.  Fighting the urge to pass out, I grabbed my clothes from off the floor and ran outside to the curb; where I proceeded to throw up just about everything I had to eat that whole year.  As soon as I got back to my apartment, I jumped straight into shower with all of my clothes on, and sat there in the fetal position, doing the “ugly cry” for the next three hours.  To this very day, I have yet to have another single drink.

*This was a B&TC REWIND….

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