The Blonde
Martin Kane
Those who think this is only an excuse to tell Blonde jokes would be correct



Author's note:

A Blonde was vacationing in Louisiana.  Whilst there, she wanted to pick up 
a pair of authentic, genuine alligator boots.  So she stopped in at a thrift 
store and picked herself a pair.

'How much are these?' she asked the owner.

'Those are $500.00.'

'What?  That's ridiculous.'

'That's the going price.  You want the authentic genuine thing, that's what 
it's gonna cost you.'

'I'll go somewhere else.'

'Be my guest.  Price'll be the same all around here.'  Then he quipped.  
'You want them cheaper, why don't you go off into the swamp and get them 
yourself?'

The Blonde huffed out.

Later that day, the store owner is walking past a stretch of narrow river 
when he sees the Blonde, chest deep in murky water, making cooing gestures.

'Jesus, I was kidding.'  And he shouts out to her, 'get out the water you 
crazy broad, you're gonna get yourself killed.'

Just then, a huge alligator rises up behind her.  Before the store owner can 
holler a warning to her, it strikes.

As the beast lunges for her, she spins about and grabs its jaws, holding it 
at bay.  It begins to roll and she leaps astride the monster.  The battle is 
furious but she wrestles it into submission, finally taking a hunting knife 
and burying it to the hilt between the creature's eyes.

The store owner watches amazed as she tows the hulking brute back to shore 
and heaves it up the bank.  To his further astonishment, he notices that 
there are already several dead alligators strewn around.

Nimbly, she flips the beast over.  'Damn it,' she exclaims, 'this one isn't 
wearing any boots either.'


 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 


Ted followed happily enough as Eddie led him down the back street to 'this 
great little bar I know.'

It was fairly quiet, pockets of drinkers keeping to themselves, soft music 
at a volume that actually allowed conversation.  It wasn't the type of hip 
and happening place that Ted would have picked but he could live with it.

Eddie bought the first round, Ted a little surprised as he paid with a fiver 
for two pints and got change.

'I don't believe in paying London prices if I can possibly help it.'

They settled down to made the obligatory small talk about work, about their 
respective companies.

Eddie kept up a friendly and amiable demeanour, effectively burying his true 
feelings about the man who sat opposite him.

In his office they always drew straws to decide who had to go out for drinks 
with Ted.  He was worth a fair bit of business so they had to keep the guy 
sweet.  Unfortunately, nobody could stand him.  The sad and truly tragic 
fact was that the man had no friends and compensated by going out drinking 
with those whom he did business with.  Because of his worth to the various 
companies he traded with, they felt obliged to keep him happy.  Any who 
didn't, found his highly profitable favour wane.

Despite the fact that Eddie was leaving the company, had finally handed in 
his notice and managed to resist telling his boss where to shove it, he was 
still expected to be a team player until his term was served.  His name came 
up as Ted's drinking buddy for the night and was bullied by co-workers into 
the job.  Eddie had reluctantly accepted it and agreed.

The first time, he had happily taken the task to hand, actually offering his 
services, not understanding why people would protest so at a little spare 
time taken to drink with a business associate.  It had actually offended him 
the way his colleagues mocked the man - the way they found the idea of 
spending time with him so appalling.

Then he'd met Ted, and reluctantly had to agree that perhaps some 
individuals were lonely for a very good reason.

It's not that there was anything wrong with the man specifically.  Just that 
he was obnoxious, ignorant, loud, dumb, tactless, tasteless, blind, crass, 
bigoted, hypocritical, and any number of negative qualities that totalled a 
personality you neither wanted to associate with or be associated with.

But over various encounters, Eddie had learned the subjects to steer clear 
of, which was basically anything involving, class, culture, race, religion, 
sex, society, sport, theology, sociology, psychology or any kind of liberal 
politics.

However, never to be stuck for conversation, the man had a wealth of Blonde 
jokes, which he cut into as soon as the opportunity arose.

'So this Blonde is doing a jigsaw puzzle and before too long, she's stuck.  
She goes to her boyfriend, "please help me, it's really hard.  It's supposed 
to be of a tiger but I can't do it at all."  He just looks at the mess on 
the table and says, "Honey, put the Frosties back in the box."'

Eddie snorted laughter.  Political correctness be damned, if a joke was 
funny, he'd laugh at it.  Besides, crass jokes were one of the few things 
that came spewing out of Ted's mouth that didn't provoke an urge to lump the 
bastard.  Usually.

'This Blonde is walking down the street and fifty yards ahead of her she 
sees a banana skin.  She says to herself, "Oh God, not again."'

It took a second to register but Eddie got it and laughed.

'You ought to be careful,' he warned.  'You know the one about how do all 
racist jokes start?  By checking over your shoulder.'

Ted glanced behind him.  Two pretty blonde girls sat a few tables away.  
They were paying no attention to anyone else, happily chatting between a 
bottle of white wine.'

'I think we're reasonably safe.  Which reminds me, why couldn't the Blonde 
dial 911?  She didn't know where the "eleven" key was.'

'OK, how about this one,' Eddie offered, getting into the spirit of the 
conversation.  'What group of society never get invited to a Blonde's 
party?'

'Don't know.'

'Women.'

Ted grinned at this but didn't appear to find it as funny as Eddie.  He 
finished his drink and told another while Eddie caught up.

'So this Blonde is in an electrical warehouse outlet and she stops the 
salesman and says, "I'd like to buy this TV please."  He says, "I'm sorry 
Madam, but we don't sell to Blondes."  A little taken aback by this she 
leaves.  But it's a good deal, so she decides to go back, hair dyed black - 
artificial intelligence if you will - and again, asks the salesman.  Again 
he tells her, "I'm sorry, but we don't sell to Blondes."  Figuring that he 
must have recognised her, she returns the next day, a new haircut, a 
different outfit, and dark glasses.  "I'd like to buy this TV please."  But 
again he tells her, "I'm sorry but we don't sell to Blondes."  Furious that 
he'd seen through her subterfuge, she stamps her foot.  "How do you know 
that I'm a Blonde," she demands.  "Because that's a microwave."'

Eddie grinned, nodding.

Ted went up to the bar.

The barman caught his eye and smiled.  'Same again, mate?' and poured two 
beers.

'Must admit, the service here ain't bad either,' he conceded when he 
returned to his seat.

'I like it here,' Eddie said.

They both sat in a reasonably pleasant ambience, both trying to pretend that 
this wasn't an uncomfortable silence between people with absolutely no 
common interests.

'So anyway, this Blonde comes home from school and says, "Mummy, Mummy, 
today at school we were doing numbers and my friend who's brunette could 
only count to eight but I could count to twelve.  Is that because I'm a 
Blonde?" and her mother says, "yes, darling, it is."  And the next day she 
comes home and says, "Mummy, Mummy, today we did letters and my friend could 
only do the alphabet up to G but I could do it up to P.  Is that because I'm 
a Blonde?" and her mother says, "yes, darling, it is."  The next day, she 
comes home crying and says, "today we had gym.  And when we got undressed, 
all the other girls laughed at me coz they've all got flat chests where as I 
have these two huge mounds of flesh.  Is that because I'm a Blonde?"  And 
her mother says, "No darling, it's because you're nineteen."

'This Blonde goes to the doctor's.  He tells her to take off her blouse and 
he puts on a stethoscope.  He places the end against her chest and says, 
"big breaths." And she says, "yesth they are, and whatsth more, they're 
real."'

Eddie smiled.  He could see the direction this was going.  Not there was 
anything wrong with that.  The next joke confirmed it.  In fact, he could 
predict the punch-line because of it.

'Where does the 48 bus stop?' Ted asked.  He giggled as he answered, shoving 
a hand about a foot in front of his chest.  'Out here.'

The jokes continued.  Eddie endured them, laughing when they were funny.  He 
even told a few himself when he could get a word in.  He had to admit, Ted 
could tell them well.  It was just that he didn't distinguish between good 
jokes and bad ones.  He just let them spew out of him as he remembered them, 
almost like a stream of consciousness in punch-lines.

Eddie suddenly recognised a woman who came in.  He didn't wave to her, 
however.  If he did he'd be obliged to introduce her to Ted, and he wasn't 
prepared to do that to any of his friends.  Mainly because he wanted to keep 
them.

He downed the rest of his beer.  'Hold that thought.  My round I think.'

She was standing by the bar, half propped, drinking a bottled beer while 
chatting amiably to the barman.

Caitlin Stone was a fairly traditional beauty at first glance.  She was 
Amazonian in height and with an athlete's shoulders.  She had a full and 
magnificently prominent chest - the kind of tits that caused men to walk into 
lampposts and women to make snide comments about overdoing the surgery.

She was natural however, the only augmenting she'd had performed on her body 
was that which she had done herself.  And it was done not through surgery 
but via a gym - the extenuated curves of her physique were muscular in 
nature.

You took in the curves of her body and at a simple glance there was nothing 
extraordinary about her.  Her proportions were that of any particularly 
voluptuous woman.  Then you noticed her in context to her surroundings and 
realised that, though in proportion, she was in fact, just a little bit too 
big.  Like some trick of perspective that confused your eyes and made you 
have to blink and reassess what it was you were looking at.

She was taller than you realised at first, her shoulders broader than they 
should be, though well complemented by golden blonde locks.  Her breasts and 
hips reassured you it was a woman, a highly shapely one at that, and yet, 
those arms - there was something wrong there, surely?  Can a woman really 
have arms that...

She was still wearing her jacket - heavy leather - that would ordinarily 
conceal the wonders of a bodybuilder's extreme build.  But Eddie knew what 
was beneath the jacket and as she raised an arm to lift bottle to mouth, he 
noticed the telltale twitch of a mammoth biceps muscle, tightening the 
leather to bursting point.

'Hi Cat,' he said, joining them.  The barman immediately began pouring two 
beers.

'Hey Eddie.  I hear congratulations are in order.  You finally tunnelled out 
of that rut-race piece of shit joke of a job.'

'It was either that or kill someone.  Seeing that the chances are the 
someone in question would more than likely be myself, it wasn't too hard to 
choose.'

'Really?  You've been saying you want to quit for as long as I've known you.  
I think it's long overdue.'

'Yeah, you're probably right.'

He went to pay, but Caitlin got in there first.  'Please, I had client 
yesterday.  A profitable one actually.'  

He smiled and thanked her.

She nodded to the table.  'So who's your drinking buddy?'

'Work associate.'  His tone told her his feelings for the man.

'Ass-sociate?' she asked.

He grinned and nodded.  'Still, it's the last time.'

As he was heading off, Caitlin stopped him.

'Eddie.  You OK for money?  I've got a friend who could get you some temp 
work.  I mean it'll be dogs-body shite, labour kind of thing, but if you 
need a few quid the pay's OK.'

'Na, I should be fine.  But thanks anyway.  I will keep it in mind.'

Back with the profitable Mr. Ted, he suddenly felt a surge of bitterness.  
This obnoxious piece of shit whose business contacts had got him in an 
enviable position.  Like his boss, soon to be ex, who revelled in glory, who 
raked in the profits, while treating his staff appallingly.'

'Why was the Blonde so glad when her boss got a new Mercedes with an 
adjustable steering wheel?  More headroom.'

That one didn't make Eddie laugh, but Ted continued regardless.

'Why was the Blonde so glad when her boss got a new Mercedes with a 
sunroof?'

'More legroom,' Eddie finished quickly.

'Heard that one?'

'No,' he murmured.  But he didn't let bitterness overcome him, drowning his 
comments in a mouthful of beer.

Eddie noticed Caitlin sidle past, joining the two Blondes sitting close by.  
She gave him a quick wink but didn't interrupt his engaging conversation.  
She would certainly be able to hear Ted one-track joke tack from where she 
sat but that was OK, she had a sense humour.  Quite a twisted sense of 
humour actually.

'What's the difference between a Blonde and the Panama Canal?' Ted asked.  
'The Panama Canal is a busy ditch.'

This made Eddie laugh.  He caught Caitlin's eyes again.  She shook her hand 
in a "wanker" gesture.  One of the other Blondes muttered something and the 
three of them erupted into giggles.

'OK, this guy wanted to marry this Blonde so he tells her she's pregnant.'  
Pause.  'First thing she asks?  Are you sure it's mine?'

Eddie smiled.  'What do you do if a Blonde throws a pin at you?' he asked, 
stealing another glance at Caitlin.  She raised an eyebrow at him.  Oh, she 
had a sense of humour all right.  He'd seen that expression on her face 
before.

'Dunno,' said Ted.

'Run, because she's probably holding a grenade.'

Ted's turn.  'What the easiest way to make a Blonde fall out a tree?  Wave 
at the bitch.'

Eddie laughed.  Not just because of the joke, not just because of the booze, 
but also, in part at least, that dim, nervous anticipation of something that 
was going to go down.

'Why did God create Blondes?'

'Don't know.'

'Coz sheep couldn't go get a beer from the fridge.'  A dramatic pause.  'Why 
did God create Brunettes?'

'Don't know.'

'Neither could the Blonde.'

Behind his back, Caitlin made a gesture towards Ted.  Eddie saw it and gave 
a half-shrug, trying to make sure his associate didn't pick up on the silent 
communication.

'Why are Blondes hurt by peoples words?' Eddie asked.  'Because people keep 
hitting them with dictionaries.'

Caitlin walked past them, sashaying her hips.  Inevitably, Ted glanced at 
the motion, not realising the level of muscular development contained 
beneath those jeans.  Had she removed the jacket before she passed their 
table, his reaction would have been very different.  Had he been treated to 
the sight of her back and shoulders, rolling with more muscle than he had on 
his entire body, far from being aroused by the woman, he'd have been 
horrified and disgusted by her.  Had he been an objective observer to all 
this however, it would be unlikely he would see the humour in this.

Ted watched her a few seconds then returned without fault to the matter in 
hand.  'Why was the blonde upset when she got her Driver's License?  Because 
she got an F in sex.'

It took him a few seconds, but Eddie finally laughed.

'OK,' said Ted, taking a large swallow of beer and then a few breaths.  He 
was actually preparing himself for this one.  And once he began, it was easy 
to see why.  He let rip in a rapid stream of staccato sound, careful to 
articulate and accentuate the alliteration.

'A bear walks into a bar.  He goes to the barman, give me a beer.  The 
barman says no, we don't sell beer to bears in bars.  The bear goes bollocks.  
If you don't give me a beer, I'll bite that bint.  And points to a tarty 
looking tramp, sitting at the bar.  The barman shrugs and says sod-it.  You 
want to bite her?  Be my guest.  Surprised by the barman's reaction, the bear
goes, Bastard, I was bluffing.  But bollocks, I'll eat her anyway.  And he 
does so, swallowing.  He goes, now give me a beer.  But the barman says sorry,
we don't sell beer to bears in bars, on drugs.  On drugs? says the bear.  On 
drugs, says the barman.  That was the bar-bitch-you-ate.'

Eddie didn't laugh at this, he was too distracted by the smell of perfume.  
Ted lost the moment of the punch-line because of the woman at Eddie's back.  
He'd seen her talk quickly and softly to the barman.  Fairly intently too, 
if he'd been paying attention - which he hadn't.  He'd just watched, hoping 
she'd turn his way a little, letting the open jacket flash a little of that 
spectacular chest which was kept frustratingly covered beneath flapping 
leather.

She moved finally, wine bottle in hand, bouncing her way towards them both.  
But instead of passing by, she stopped just behind Eddie, staring at Ted as 
he finished his bear bar beer joke.

'Hi,' he said.

Eddie turned his head to see Caitlin's pissed off expression.  He bit his 
cheek so as not to laugh and give the game away.  If he did laugh, he was 
pretty sure she would start giggling too, professional or not.

'You want to watch the humour,' she told him coldly.

'What?' Ted asked, genuinely taken aback.

'All the Blonde jokes.'  She tugged at a lock of her golden tresses.  'Guess 
what - not laughing.'

'What's wrong, no sense of humour?'

'I laugh at what amuses me.  Assholes taking the piss does not amuse me.  
I'm sure you don't mean any offence, but intended or not, you're causing it.  
Quit it now.'

And she stomped off to the table.

'Jesus,' Ted muttered.  'Who lit the fuse on your tampon.'  But he kept it 
low, not wanting her to hear that one.

However, it reminded him of another joke which he relentlessly and rather 
recklessly told.

'A ventriloquist is sitting up on stage, going through his routine.  And 
he's doing a load of Blonde jokes.  Now there's this Blonde sitting a few 
rows back and it's obvious that she's not finding it funny.  But he keeps 
going and she's sitting there fuming until finally she bursts out, "I 
suppose you think you're funny.  Do you really think it's clever, 
reinforcing such stereotypes, perpetuating the cliché?  It's already hard 
enough for women to be taken seriously without assholes like you demeaning 
and degrading us at every opportunity.  Have you got any idea how hard it is 
to achieve anything in this world when at the back of their heads, people 
have all these unconscious doubts nagging away at them because dickheads 
like you won't let the world move on and outgrow such discrimination.  And 
all in the name of humour?"  And at this rant, the guy is all embarrassed 
and starts to apologise and explain but she interrupts him saying, "You stay 
out of this, I'm talking to the little guy on your lap."'

Eddie laughed.  Ted was glad of his support, but didn't notice him tip a sly 
wink to the Blonde sitting back at her table, listening intently to every 
word.

'Did you hear about the blonde coyote?' Eddie asked him.  'It got stuck in a 
trap, chewed off three legs and was still stuck.'

Ted laughed and fired back.  'What do you call a basement full of Blondes?  
A whine cellar.'

'What's the difference between a Blonde and a tree?  The tree knows when 
it's being cut down.'

'What do Blonde virgins eat?  Baby food.'

Eddie excused himself and headed to the men's room.  Caitlin caught him in 
the corridor on his way back.  They exchanged a few words.  As Eddie settled 
down into his seat, he saw Caitlin Stone remove the leather jacket and hand 
it to one of her friends who folded it neatly on the chair besides her.

'This Blonde opens a box of Cheerios and goes, "oh look, Doughnut seeds!"'

Caitlin Stone headed over towards them.  The fact that Ted picked the worst 
possible joke to tell at this moment probably didn't matter much.  It 
wouldn't have actually changed anything anyway.

'What do you call a woman with two black eyes?'

Eddie shrugged.  'Blonde jogger in serious need of a sports bra?'

Ted laughed.  'That's pretty good,' he said, 'but no.'

Caitlin stood right behind him.  She'd heard the joke before and it hadn't 
amused her.

'A woman with two black eyes is a slow learner,' Ted guffawed.

Eddie actually winced at this.  Partly at the punch-line, and partly at the 
response offered by the rather pissed-off looking blonde bodybuilder 
standing behind him.

'Tell me,' Caitlin hissed at him, making him turn his head in surprise.  
'What do you say to a guy who's just insulted a Blonde?  Anything you like.  
He won't hear you coz the fucker's unconscious.'

'Look they're just-'

He didn't get any further.  The words caught in his throat there because he 
saw her for the first time without the heavy leather jacket.  It turned out, 
it wasn't just her truly fantastic bosom that was covered, it was also her 
honestly frightening muscles.

She might have been flashing a cleavage to rival Cheddar Gorge but what 
stunned Ted right at this moment was the fact that her tits were rivalled in 
size by her biceps.

She flexed them for him, tightening the peaks into mountains that made him 
feel suddenly very weak at the knees.

The whole bar was silent.  As it happens, Ted was the only one in here who 
wasn't a regular.  He was the only one who wasn't in on the joke.  Everyone 
else was enjoying the show.

'What's wrong?' she asked him.  'Run out of witty one-liners?'

'Huh?' he managed.  Dull with shock and fear.

Caitlin grabbed a handful of shirt and lifted him by it, heaving him one-
handed until his face was level with hers, though this held his feet a good 
two off inches off the ground.

It was done for effect.  And what effect.  She seemed to carry his weight 
without effort, her thick arm solid and rigid.  His shirt however, was taut 
to the point of ripping.  It seemed quite clear which would give first.

'Joke man.  Quip your way out of this.'

'Do those things affect the tides?' he offered.  It was his favourite chat 
up line whenever he met an overtly endowed woman.  In fact, he'd probably 
have tried it on Caitlin given half a chance.  He also failed to see the 
humour in this.

'OK, not a bad effort.  Tell me this.  What's thick as shit with a dip in 
the middle?'

'Huh?'

Eddie actually winced in sympathy as she let loose her own punch-line, 
slamming into his chest and sending him flying over the table and backwards 
to land at the bar.

He staggered for breath, trying to straighten himself from the crumpled 
heap, but it was agony.  Tentatively he touched his chest.  Probably not 
fatal he surmised but it did indeed now have a dip in it.  He knew that if 
he didn't head to the hospital tonight, he'd probably regret it.  That was 
assuming the evil bitch-freak was finished playing with him.

But she hadn't.  Caitlin walked up to him.  She straightened his legs out in 
front of them and sat herself down on them.  He felt the huge muscles of her 
thighs and calves hard and heavy against him.  He thought for a moment that 
she intended to flex and thus cripple him.  But she didn't.  Instead, she 
produced two pool balls and held them up to him, letting him see them.

She unfolded one huge arm before his nose, the upper arm thicker than his 
leg, rippling with huge layered muscles, all too evident even when unflexed 
as they were.

She held the two balls together, her meaning clear.  She placed them into 
the crook of her elbow and lifted her forearm a little to trap them against 
the flesh and the slope of her peaked biceps muscle.

Everyone in the bar had gathered around, wanting to see this stunt.  Some had 
actually seen her perform it before but were no less eager than those who'd 
only heard tell of it (always in hushed and awed voices.)

Caitlin began squeezing, lifting her forearm up to pump the huge bicep into 
a peak.  The muscle tightened like a vice against the pool balls.  Surely 
she couldn't... surely it wasn't even possible.

Her whole arm was shuddering with effort, the veins standing out.  Her 
forearm was swollen, glistening and throbbing.  Her bicep was marginally 
dented by the balls but it soon became apparent which would give first.

Her face locked in a rigor of strain; Caitlin gasped struggling with all her 
might.

The crowd held its collective breath.  So silent was it that when the first 
tiny crack was heard, no one missed it, and no one failed to utter a gasp of 
amazement.

They went one after another, so close together that it was as though 
simultaneous.  Fragments flew aside, dust and shattered chunks falling 
either side of the victorious mountain peak.

Caitlin stood, brushing the debris off her solid flesh.  The crowd parted 
for her - awed as though by the presence of a religious icon.  There was not 
one person here who would not remember the sight they had just witnessed for 
the rest of their life.

'I take it you'll not forgot the point,' Caitlin said to Ted.  But just in 
case.

She swung a quick boot into his balls, igniting agony in his groin and 
belly.

Ted collapsed in a sobbing, gulping heap.  Caitlin returned to her seat.  
Eddie went and joined her.

'That was awesome,' he sighed.  'I had no idea.  I mean I knew but I mean, I 
never knew...  Fuck!'

'Not bad for a Blonde?'

'Not bad,' he agreed.

The barman called out to the patrons as a whole.  'Is anyone passing the 
hospital on their way home?'

Someone volunteered.  'I'll take him,' a guy offered.  'Just let me finish 
my beer first.'

'No hurry.'

People came and went.  A couple of guys helped load Ted into the back of the 
driver's van and he headed off.

More regulars arrived and were disappointed to learn they'd missed a show, 
especially one with such a spectacular climax.

Eddie was sitting around a table with a large mix of people, including 
Caitlin and the two wine-drinking blondes.  Caitlin was animatedly telling a 
story, '... and she says to the ventriloquist, "you stay out of this, I'm 
talking to the little guy on your lap."'