They Call me Donkey

**I just couldn't pass this one up. I could, however, correct its spelling.**

He walked into the bar and scanned the room. Since it was only two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, there wasn't much to scan. His face fell. After a moment's consideration, he made his way to the bar and winked at the woman tending it. "Hey there," he said in his seductive voice.

The bartender, who had been serving drinks for five years and was named Louise, said "What can I get you?" in her unimpressed voice. In the right light, which would be a dim one indeed, he could pass for cute. Maybe. The ankle-bracelet bulge beneath his dirty jeans, though, meant he needed to be one hell of a hottie before she'd overlook it.

"Funny you should ask that," he said, "because the reason I came here is because I'm looking for a roommate."

"Sorry, we don't serve that here."

He held up his hands to stop her. "Now, now, wait a second. Hear me out. My old lady just threw me out and I need a place to stay, but it'd just be temporary. One, two months tops."

Louise polished a martini glass.

"I'm real handy around the house. I can fix anything for you, and it's a good thing, too, 'cause I'm under house arrest. Just think of how much stuff I can do for you. I just can't pay rent, but what's money compared to high quality craftsmanship?" He leaned in close and gave her a conspiratorial grin. "I can also offer other... services. If you're interested, I'll tell you why they call me donkey."

Louise cocked an eyebrow. She'd certainly never heard a line like that before. Certainly not since Saturday night, at least. She put down the martini glass. "All right," she said. "Show me."

"What?"

"Well, maybe I can help you out. Maybe. But I need to see your resume, if you know what I mean."

He darted a look around at the handful of patrons bent over their beers, hesitating.

"Do it, or don't," Louise said. "Your call." She turned as if to walk away, and he jumped up on the bar, fumbling with his belt. His jeans fell to the bar, followed shortly by a pair of tighty-whities.

"Hrm..." Louise said, thoughtfully.

"Well, you know," he explained. "It's a little cold in here."

"Are you any good at putting in tile?"

He nodded vigorously.

Louise yelled, "Butch!"

A huge hulk of a man wearing motorcycle gear at the end of the bar said, "What?"

Louise pointed to the half-naked man in front of her and Butch's eyes lit up. "I just found you a roommate."