The Cutest Pickup Line She Ever Heard
I bopped into the pub where a group of friends were gathering to celebrate one of our birthdays. I ordered a draft and headed out back only to find the place deserted. Turned out I had the right day but the wrong week. As I’d already sprung for the brew, I wasn’t gonna let it go to waste it. So I toodled back to the bar, perched on a stool and gazed at the baseball game in progress on the overhead tube.
“’Scuse me,” I turned to the lady who was sitting on the stool beside me, “I’m new around here and I need to set the clock thingie on my cell. Do you guys do daylight savings time?”
“That,” she gave me a droll look, “has got to be the cheesiest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“You didn’t like it?” I said. “I made it up myself.”
“You take that to be an achievement?”
“Beats, ‘Hi, name’s Ed. What’s yours?’”
She rolled her eyes.
“Ooh, look, the Sox’re playing the Yankees. What do you think of Derek Jeter’s recent bid to purchase the Marlins?”
“The Marlins? You know Dan and Lisa?”
“The Miami Marlins. They’re a baseball team.”
“You must be a Yankees fan,” she grimaced.
“Bite your tongue. Big Papi was my childhood hero.”
“Big Papi was your child… How old are you?”
“Tut, a lady should never ask a gentleman his age. Why? How old are you?”
“Nunna yer business!”
The guy on the stool on the other side of her, whom I took to be her boyfriend, looked to be getting antsy.
“I was a jock back in high school, though you’d never know it to look at me now,” I grumbled.
She eyeballed me.
“Intramural softball. Slow pitch.”
“So what do you do now?”
“Shoot potato guns. You take a length of plastic tubing, stick a potato in the barrel, give it a shot of shaving cream for the nitrous oxide, squeeze the triggering mechanism and blam! You can smash a pumpkin at fifty feet if you hit it right.”
“The heck‘re you talking to,” the guy on the other side of her mumbled.
“Some guy who tries to blow up pumpkins by shooting wads of potatoes at them.”
“Yah? Well, tell him to blow his wad somewheres else.”
Just then, one of the Sox doubled and drove in a run.
The patrons at the bar cheered.
“What this town needs,” I polished off my brew and clanked the base of the empty glass on the bar top to show I meant business, ”is a good minor league franchise.”
She didn’t say anything.
“It’s been nice chatting with you,” I sidled off my bar stool and leaned around behind her. “And with you too,” I burbled at her boyfriend’s back.
As I got to the door, the lady shouted, “Hey, Ed!”
I turned around.
“Cheesy, but cute.”
photo: Benjamin Balàsz on Unsplash
