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Joygirls: Where to Find Them

November 5, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Pliny W. Howard

By Pliny W. Howard

The opinions of Pliny W. Howard are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.

I’m riding along Route 55 through the Southern Outer Areas. It’s that last stretch of road before you hit prairie. They’ve got all kinds of crazy shops along both sides of the road– some of them are in old houses that they’ve added a little storefront onto, some of them are in dilapidated, broken-down shit shacks.

It’s about dusk. And that’s when I spot some joygirls.

They were in front of a closed-up deli. About three of them.

I pulled into the nearest side street and grabbed my suitcase off the back bench seat. I slipped out of my work clothes and into a tan woolen sweater with some stripes on it– my great Aunt Gladys made it for me– and my best leather jacket. I combed my hair up in the mirror and than wiped down my beard. I felt good.

I double-backed to the deli and pulled right up in front.

“Ladies,” I said.

You ARE sharp, Howard I thought to myself. Here you go, just expecting an ordinary night back at the deserted farmhouse, falling asleep drunk in front of a Lingus Nets match per usual and now you’ve found yourself a trio of joygirls. Luck was on my side that night, boys.Pliny

“Ladies, what are you doing out there on the sidewalk?” I asked. “Why, you could be in here,” I added.

Yep, I was pulling the ol’ one-arm bandit that night, fellows. And it was coming up cherries.

So, the joygirls piled on into the Neptune. I cranked on 103.5 “The Hammer” and sped off into the night.

“Where to ladies?” I asked. I was playing it cool, playing it suave. I lit up a bit of the farmhouse stash.

“Let’s go downtown!” one of the joygirls called out. She was a tall brunette in a tight skirt, hell of a set of legs. Hell of a set of a lot of things, now that you mention it.

“Naw, let’s go to the folk dinner for rubes that they’re having over at the Montecristo. Should be a blast!” another one said. A blonde in leather. Banging it out back.

The third didn’t say nothing.

“What about you darling?” I asked, tossing the blunt out the speeding Neptune. “Downtown or the folk dinner for rubes? Break the tie, baby.”

The other two started making their cases with her. Typical joygirls. I laughed.

“What if I want a third thing? A different thing?” she finally said.

I brought the car to a squealing stop in front of a knives and puzzles shop.

“Let’s figure it out, ladies!” I said. I was starting to lose my cool a little, starting to get irritated. It was that farmhouse stash, man. It was making me a little cracked.

Well, the joygirls weren’t happy about that none. They started cussing me out and then they got out of the car and disappeared into some pizza joint. And, well, that was that. Things went from feeling good to feeling bad just like that.

But the point is– joygirls. Man, you can find them anywhere.

Just look around, man.

  1. November 6, 2015 at 1:56 am

    The other point is, them joygirls be into THEIR joy, not yours, farmboy.

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