This is from the beginning of Dave Lundy’s new novel (still in development) called, “Zero F*cks Given”, a prequel to the best-selling comedy “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery”.
As an eighteen-wheeler tries to merge onto highway 290 in front of him, Zabka slams on the Camaro’s gas pedal and swerves passed the trucker. While taking the Main Street exit at 75 mph, his car screeches around the curvy offramp.
Zabka releases his tight grip from the steering wheel. “Did you see that asshole?”
From the passenger seat, Bob chimes in, “Yeah, the nerve of that guy.” He looks back at Lighthouse, cramped between their luggage, and they chuckle.
Zabka sticks his arm out of the window into the sunny afternoon and enjoys the breeze.
“Dude, what happened to the tunes?” Lighthouse asks.
“Yeah, Bob.” Zabka whacks his friend. “Fix that. You’re in charge.”
Bob pops in a Jackyl CD, selects the song he wants, and turns up the volume. Soon into it, the guitar riff gets their heads banging. Zabka eyes a car full of girls with a UB sticker on the bumper and speeds up next to it. He looks over at the girls and sings along with the chorus, “But she loves my cock! — Loves my cock! Loves my cock! Loves my cock!”
Bob has witnessed Zabka’s lack of shame plenty of times before, but he’s never seen a group of women return him repulsive looks to this degree. Incredibly pleased with himself, Zabka guns the engine and speeds away.
Bob turns down the music and says, “You know, not to sound lame or anything, but I feel like the way we approach girls might be a touch off-putting and could probably use… oh, I don’t know… some refinement. What do you guys think?”
“What are you talking about?” Zabka replies. “Those chicks loved me!”
Lighthouse offers his thoughts. “No offense, Zabka, but I didn’t get that impression. Bob might be on to something.”
Zabka brushes them off. “You guys are crazy.”
“No, really,” Bob says. “Okay, how many girls did we have in our house last year?”
Zabka shrugs. “Plenty, I’m sure.” He contemplates for a moment. “To start, there was Earthshaker — that ginormous chick from The Base that you banged. Good lord, you truly do not give a fuck.”
“First of all, I did not ‘fuck her.’ We barely got outta the bar before her mouth was playing ‘Hungry Hungry Hippos’ with my balls. I’ve never had a woman so focused on them like that.”
“Bet you’ve had a man focused on your balls like that,” Lighthouse remarks from the peanut gallery.
Bob rolls his eyes. “And secondly, we didn’t go to our house. Her house was around the corner, so we went there.”
While looking up, Lighthouse taps his chin. “Oh, I know. There was the woman that hooked up our cable. She was kinda hot.”
Bob replies, “Dude, she was as old as your mom. Plus, she worked for the cable company, so that doesn’t really count. Okay, so who else?”
“Hmm… oh, I remember.” His redheaded friend pushes an imaginary button. “These girls rang our doorbell and I invited them inside.”
“You mean the ones selling cookies?” Bob shakes his head. “The Girl Scout and her mom? Come on.”
The three of them sit in silence, racking their brains.
“You see my point now? We did a pathetic job last year.” Bob looks back at Lighthouse and then at Zabka to make sure they are absorbing this. “But here’s the good news — this is a new year and we’re in a new house. The reset button has been pressed.”
“So should we set a goal?” Lighthouse asks. “Like a number?”
“Well, there are six of us in the house, soooo… we should be able to pull in at least two girls each — real girls, not girls working for a utility company or selling shit door to door.” Bob does the easy math. “So that’s twelve.”
Zabka offers, “Shit, I could pull in a dozen myself. What are you guys gonna do?”
Lighthouse says, “Yeah, I could do that too.”
Bob laughs along with Zabka who’s slapping his knee.
After Zabka composes himself, he says “But seriously, we need to think this through. The others in the house are Satan, Jimmy the Italian, and Narong — a stoner, a short guy who’s prematurely-balding and talks like he’s been kicked in the nuts, and a tiny theatre major from Thailand. Something tells me their contributions ain’t gonna be shit.”
Bob agrees. “Yeah, they’re gonna be completely useless.”
Zabka nods his head. “Yep, so that just leaves me and you, Bob.”
“Hey, what about me?” Lighthouse asks.
“What about you?” Zabka replies. “No offense,” he winks at Bob, “but this is clearly a two-man operation.”
“Yeah, Zabka’s right.” Bob grins. “But don’t let that stop you from giving it the old college try.”
“I’ll show you guys.” Lighthouse folds his arms. “I may even decide to get a girlfriend.”
“Highly doubtful. But even if you did, that’s not gonna help us much with the numbers.” Zabka passes Grover Cleveland Golf Course, named after the former mayor of Buffalo and President of the United States, and crosses Bailey Avenue. “Hey, there’s south campus. We’re officially back in Buffalo!” He honks the horn. “Damn, it feels good!”
Part 2 | Part 3