The Pink Pussycat

The dark gray clouds billowed over the seedy part of Houston.  It was Prairie St. which houses various strip clubs, the most obviously named one being The Pink Pussycat.  As a kid I thought it had a pink cat.  As an eighteen year old I learned that it was a strip club.  I had always wanted to go there to find out why they called it The Pink Pussycat. There was also a very old movie theater whose attendants were 98% African American and a few old warehouses.


I had come to the strip to see a double feature of Bruce Lee movies.  I hadn't expected to be the only white martial artist there and was uneasy at first but nobody bothered me.  A huge black man came down the aisle dressed in some type of martial arts armor acting "bad" and stopped a second to stare at me.  I glared back, showing no fear and he moved on.
The movies were great but when they were over I was pumped up and wanted to see what kind of nonviolent entertainment I could find. 
I walked down the street past a few musty buildings with shady businesses and a black woman came out from across the street yelling to me.


"Do you want to get laid?"


"Uh, no thanks."


Being eighteen and having my hormones pumping, I might have considered it but she was a very hefty, ugly black woman.  I just looked forward and kept walking hearing her scream, "Are you queer?"


A few sprinkles started coming down and I came upon a strip club.  Never having been in one, decided to go in and see what they were all about.


I sat down at the bar in the musty old place and ordered a drink.  Soon a barely dressed woman came out and started dancing.  She was wearing pasties but I couldn't keep my eyes off of her stomach.


I couldn't figure out if she had stretch marks or had been slashed across the stomach several times by a knife.  She looked hideous.  I couldn't figure out what the appeal was to men to come to such a strip club.  It turned my stomach.


I finished my drink and ordered another which I gulped down to forget what I had seen.  I tipped the bartender and started making my way back to my car.


When I got to the movie theater, three black men tried to mug me.  I let out a flurry of punches and kicks and they quickly fled.  I then made my way to the back of the building to my car, got in, and left.


I went back several times to watch other martial arts movies but never made it to the end of the block to The Pink Pussycat.  That one experience had been enough for me.