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Ballroom Blintz

by

Kathy Kellenberger

    "No! This can't be happening. Where in the heck are we?"

    "Not sure Hutch, but I want to get home as soon as possible and out of this redneck town! It's givin' me the creeps!"

    "Starsk, I thought Merle-the-godforsaken-Earl just tuned this tomato up?

    What the hell could be wrong with it now?" Hutch was beginning to fume. He was tired, hungry, and irritable. They had dropped their prisoner off in San Francisco at the Walter's Correctional Facility and were on their way home when Starsky's car became ill.

    It was late afternoon when the car could no longer move on. The town was ghostlike. Only a few people in the streets and only a car, maybe two. There were a lot of motorcycles though, and one gas station that looked like it was right out of a 1950's novel.

    "Think they have unleaded gasoline here, Hutch?"

    "Only one way to find out, we need to get this heap running so we can get home. I'm beat, Starsk, I just want to go to bed."

    The car rolled lethargically into the ancient looking service center.

    "Hey, anyone here? Come out, come out, whereve...."

    "Starsky! Will you calm down? We don't know these people and this town is giving me the creeps. Be nice and maybe we can be out of here in a couple of hours."

    "Hutch...."

    "Starsk...."

    Starsky saw the finger coming up. Hutch's "beware and chill out" finger. He turned so Hutch would not see the smirk on his face. For some unknown reason Starsky was finding all of this humorous. His partner was not.

    "Well, boys, looks like the transmission bit the dust."

    "WHAT?" Both said simultaneously to the garage attendant.

    "Can ya fix it? Today? Now?" Starsky was finding this incident less humorous minute by minute.

    "I can fix it, but I'll need the money up front."

    "How much?" Hutch asked in a determined voice.

    "At least $400."

    Starsky looked at Hutch waiting for the explosion. "Listen Mister, I don't have $400 on me.... Hutch do you have...?"

    "No Starsk, I don't usually carry $400 in my wallet. Will a credit card do?"

    "Sorry, boys, we don't take credit cards...it's cash or nothing."

    'But...we need to get out of here.... Can you please help us?" Both detectives were getting nervous.

    "Sorry, no money, no transmission."

    "What are we supposed to do? Can I use your phone?" Hutch was grinding his teeth unknowingly.

    Starsky thought he saw a gray hair forming on Hutch's brow.

    "No phone here, sorry and the phone booth is out of order."

    Starsky was waiting for Hutch to develop a facial twitch.

    Just then a biker pulled into the station, overhearing parts of the conversation and dilemma the two out-of-towners were in.

    "Hey dudes! My name is Mike. I hear you're gonna visit with us for a while?"

    Starsky was not even able to stutter as he saw Hutch running his hands through his hair hearing him whispering, "I'm gonna have to hurt you, David Michael Starsky! Damn tomato...godforsaken town...just tuned up...yeah, right...no money...no credit cards...no phone...."

    Starsky pulled Hutch aside. "Listen, we'll work something out. What do you think they'd give us for your watch?"

    "My watch! Starsky...don't even...."

    "Hey, boys?" Mike was a big muscular man, hair pulled back in a long ponytail, tattooed, pierced, scary. "I have an idea. I think I can help the two of you out. I have a little club and we need a dancer or two tonight. Eight dollars an hour and you get to keep all of the money the women put in your G-string...."

    "Wha...What did you say?" Once again said in unison by the dynamic duo, looking like two deer caught in the headlights.

    "Hey, dudes, you need the money to get your car fixed, to get home, right? How else are you gonna get it? The money is good. You could make $400 in one night."

    "We're not DUDES!" Hutch's last straw was bending.

    "Hey, please excuse my friend here, it's been a long day." Starsky planted a fake smile toward the huge tattooed man.

    "Starsky...."

    "Hutch...we need the money. You're a good dancer. You can do it."

    "Me! What about you? It's your car! Your transmission! Your butt that I'm gonna have to kick...your...your...."

    "We'll do it. What time do we start?" Starsky made the hasty decision for them both. He would pay the consequences later. Still finding all of this humorous, he took Hutch by the arm and led him away from the service station. "Come on, buddy, you need some fresh air."

    "I need a damn car, and I need my partner to find his sanity that seems to have slipped away!"

    "We can do this. What else would you suggest? We have no money, and I don't think either one of us wants to take up residence in this town. Come on Hutch...it's only one night.... You got any better ideas?"

    "No, damn it! I don't. I'm sorry, Starsk, I know this isn't your fault. I...I don't want to get up and dance in front of strangers. I don't know if I can do it, Starsk."

    "Of course you can. They're gonna love ya, buddy."

    "You keep saying me. What about you? I'm not doing this alone. You are gonna own me big time, buddy."

    They walked up to the large dilapidated building, seeing at least 50 motorcycles and hearing the loud music coming from within.

    "Hutch...where ya goin?"

    "I'm walking home."

    "Hey, you can't do that, it's at least 200 miles away. Let's just get this over with, huh?"

    "Hey, dudes!" Mike met them outside and ushered them to a small room in back of the shack. "Here, put these on." He handed them the outfits. An entire leather wardrobe was awaiting them both, including the very small leather G-string that was also expected as part of their costume. "Hey, what are your names anyway?"

    Hutch was beginning to sweat. Starsky spoke for them both. "I'm Starsky and he's Hutch."

    "Okay. Change into those fine leather outfits and I'll introduce you. They're gonna love you. Just move to the groove, man."

    8pm

    "Introducing...Sexy and Handsome!!!!"

    The crowd roared.

    "Starsk, I'm gonna be sick."

    "No, you're not...Handsome." Starsky could not resist.

    "Starsky! You want me to hurt you now or later?"

    Luckily for Starsky he had no time to answer.

    "Here he is now...Mr. Handsome himself!"

    The music began, the crowd roared. Starsky pushed Hutch out onto the platform.

    Hutch did a good job after he got over the shock. The ladies were going crazy and the money was starting to come in as Hutch shed the leather outfit piece by piece. By the time he got down to the G-string he figured he had at least 100 one dollar bills. He could only think of getting the money needed to fix the car and get the heck out of Dodge.

    Starsky could see that Hutch was actually enjoying himself. What a ham...that's my partner.

    "And now, joining Mr. Handsome...its Mr. SEXY!!!!" Mike had to give Starsky a shove onto the dance floor with his partner.

    Starsky was nervous. All he could see were leather jackets, tattoos, earrings, ponytails, women with teeth missing, bright red lipstick, smeared mascara, bleached blond hair, unsuccessful perms, dermatology problems. He swayed back and forth.

    Hutch was going to get his payback sooner that he expected. He took his partner by the arm and put the focus on Mr. Sexy.

    "Come on, Starsk," Hutch whispered in Starsky's ear. "You have a job to do and some money to make. I think I'm gonna keep what I made so far tonight. You have $400 one-dollar bills to collect... 'Move to the groove,' Sexy...."

    The women, now pretty well intoxicated, were out of control. Hutch was almost too much for them and now with Starsky joining him the crowd lost it.

    It seemed as though Starsky was dancing, when actually he was just moving to get away from the hands that were reaching for him...all of him. Hutch kept his partner up front and soon they had collected more one dollar bills than they could hold.

    "Come on Starsky. It wasn't so bad. Where's that good old Sexy, I mean, Starsky smile?"

    "Its not funny, Hutch. I felt like a pork chop that they were trying to trim the fat off of. Like a cob of corn being husked. I felt cheap, Hutch! Cheap!"

    Hutch controlled his laughter as much as he could. He knew Starsky was really upset. He was finding it very hard to be serious.

    "Come on, buddy. It's over. We actually made $200 extra. I'll treat you to a burrito when we get home."

    "Hutch...let's just get out of here, huh? I wanna go home. "

    "Me too, partner...me too...let's go."