Uneducated 01

The girl that bumped, wiggled, and swung around, almost drunkenly to the song did not smile. Finally, the song ended and she gathered up clothing and tips and stomped off the stage.

"Hey, buy me a drink?" a Latin girl asked George as he herded Harmony and Unity to a table.

"I would, but these two might get mad," he lied, smiling tightly.

Another song started and again, it was only the garbled lyrics that told Harmony what song was playing. A Latin girl came out to weak applause from the three men that sat near the stage.

"And your wife used to dance here?" Unity asked, clutching onto George's arm.

"Wasn't this big a shit hole back then," George agreed and held up three fingers to the bartender.

"I don't like beer," Harmony complained when the three mugs of beer were put down in front of them.

"Only thing's not watered down," George said.

A moment later, a fat, balding man waddled out of the rear of the blub, followed by a sullen looking Asian girl.

"George!" Vinnie called out in mock cheerfulness and walked over to the table.

"Vinnie!" George called back.

The two gave each other manly hugs and back slaps.

"Man, losing weight? My hands almost touched," George teased.

"Aw, kiss my ass," Vinnie forced himself to laugh.

"And who are these two lovely women?" Vinnie leered at Harmony and Unity.

"My roommates," George said. "Harmony and Unity."

"Hey, hey, ever get tired of his stinking up the place, you still playing in other people's shit, right? Y'all two can come be my roommates," Vinnie leered.

George fought down the urge to punch the man's smirking, leering face. That had been Vinnie's regular taunt when he'd been the DJ while Beulah danced. Beulah had often told Vinnie that at least her husband earned his own money, rather than depending on Daddy's money. But it was still a cutting, demeaning remark.

"Um, no thanks," Harmony said, shuddering.

George declined the offer of a second beer, claiming to have another service call, and ushered the two girls out into the bright sunlight.

"Seen enough, or y'all want to see one more place?" George asked, already pulling into the parking lot of Mickey's Lounge.

The lounge had seen better days, but was not as decrepit as Elegante had been. An Asian girl danced very badly to 'Addicted to Love' by Robert Palmer.

"Can't dance," Harmony noted.

"No one cares," George smiled at the tired looking waitress. "Just a coke for me, girls?"

"Same, Unity agreed, having a headache from the loud music and beer from Elegante.

"Yeah," Harmony echoed.

"Y'all cops?" the waitress asked, suddenly very alert.

"No, why?" George answered.

The bartender looked over suspiciously when the waitress told him what the three newcomers had asked for.

A blonde that had seen better days followed the Asian girl and smiled in appreciation as two Latin men applauded her appearance.

"Now, she can dance," Harmony observed as the woman moved to The Eagles' 'Life in the Fast Lane.'

"Buy me drink?" the Asian dancer asked George.

"No," Harmony answered for George.

The girl ignored Harmony and stared expectantly at George.

"You heard my girlfriend; she said 'No,'" George smiled.

"We go?" Unity asked after finishing her glass of flat cola.

"Absolutely," George agreed.

"They left, ignoring the glares of the waitress, bartender, and Asian girl.

"So, still think y'all might want to dance?" George asked as he pulled up to the house.

"Not at Elegante or Mickey's," Harmony said.

"Dead End's a whole lot nicer," Unity agreed.

"And when I become your girlfriend?" Harmony teased George.

He ignored her and walked to his van.

"Got a call to make, see y'all later," he said.

He went to the customer's house, gave what he felt was a fair estimate for what she wanted and nodded in agreement when the woman said she would have to wait for her husband to approve the estimate.

"That's fine," he agreed. "He has any questions, tell him give me a call."

He let himself into the house and found Harmony and Unity at the table, filling out their applications.

"We put this as our address?" Harmony demanded.

"Uh, where y'all living?" he asked her and noticed that Unity had a pound of ground beef defrosting.

"Spaghetti," she answered before he could ask.

"Tell her you want them meatballs," Harmony demanded.

"Want them meatballs," George agreed.

"But we're just staying here until..." Unity asked.

"Until y'all move out, I guess," George admitted.

"Okay," Unity said and scribbled out the address on the application.

"In case of emergency..." Harmony asked out loud.

"Put me, I suppose," George said and got himself a can of beer out of the refrigerator.

"Relation?" Unity asked, scribbling his name.

"Friend, huh," George offered.

Unity looked up, looked at him for a long moment, and then looked back down at the application.

Chapter 7

"When we can go to the Dead End?" Harmony demanded before George even finished his first cup of coffee.

"Y'all got your music?" he asked. "And your outfits?"

"Yeah," Unity said and rattled off the names of the CDs they planned to bring.

"All right, stop for just a minute and think," George said. "We went to three different places; y'all hear any BeeYotchAy? Y'all hear any Miley Syphilis?"

"Be who?" Harmony asked, confused.

"BeeYotchAy; the ignorant bitch married Lay Z, had that kid, named it after her favorite way of doing dope?" George clarified.

"Beyoncé?" Unity asked.

By now, they were somewhat used to George's intentional butchering of names. If they asked him who was playing, instead of saying 'The Steelers and the Bills,' George would say 'The Kneelers and the Pills.'

"What I said, BeeYotchAy," George smiled as Harmony and Unity shook their heads.

"Well?" George asked again.

"Well what?" Unity asked.

"Did y'all hear any of that shit? Y'all hear any Taylor Slit? Or that little Canadian pussy, Justine Beaver?"

"Who?" Unity asked.

"Justine Beaver, Usher's little fucktoy," George said.

"Justin Bieber?" Harmony asked.

"Same thing," George smiled.

"And I like Taylor Swift," Unity defended.

"Taylor Slit is to music what The Colonel is to fine dining. Over processed with no nutritional value whatsoever," George said. "Same thing with Miley Syphilis; bet her daddy's rolling in his grave."

"Miley Cyrus's daddy's not dead," Unity said.

"Oh? Just his career, huh?" George said, smirking.

"And Beyoncé is about empowering women," Harmony defended.

"Don't even kid yourself; she's about empowering her bank account," George said.

He poured himself another cup of coffee.

"But stop and think; y'all hear any of that shit?" he asked, sitting back down.

"No, I don't think so," Harmony admitted.

"But I like, I mean, we got to dance to it," Unity said.

"Uh huh, and we got to listen to it," George said and reached over to tousle her hair, which earned him a slap from her.

He sipped his coffee then speared another sausage link.

"Who you dancing for?" he asked them.

"What you mean? We're dancing for money," Harmony said.

"Uh huh, and who's money would that be?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harmony said.

"'Uh, that would be mine," George told her. "And my money stays in my wallet y'all play that shit. Y'all want to dance to that shit, dance to it at home. You want my money; you dance to tunes I want to hear."

"Okay, like what?" Unity asked.

He rattled off a few songs, but because of his penchant for butchering names, they weren't sure if he was actually naming any songs or not.

"We got that stuff?" Unity asked.

"WE don't have any of that stuff," George said.

"Do YOU have that stuff?" Harmony asked, smiling.

"Well, now that you mention it, yes I do," George said.

"And may WE use that stuff?" Unity asked.

He finished his breakfast in two bites then got to his feet. They followed him into the living room. Unity made a face as he searched through his CDs; they'd looked through his CD collection the very first day he'd left them alone in his house and determined that they did not like anything he had.

"And this, and..." he mused aloud then turned his stereo on.

He skipped ahead a few tracks and Van Halen's 'Drop Dead Legs' boomed out.

"All right, let's see the moves," he said.

Both girls shrugged and began to dance. They both stopped when they saw him shaking his head 'No.'

"Girls, girls, stop and think for just a minute," he said, turning down the sound of the stereo. "Anything y'all was doing going to make me want to fuck you? Anything you doing going to make me want to take you out back and do nasty ass things with you?"

"Well...." Harmony mused.

"Um...." Unity mused.

"Only thing I'm going to drop a five or a ten into the jar is if I see something I like," George explained. "You know? Something that gets my motor running."

He slapped them both on their rumps, making their butterfly tattoos jiggle.

"Yeah, y'all are cute, but remember? I got two cute girls living with me. Y'all need to make me think I got a shot with you, that you're freaks that'll do some pretty fucked up stuff with me. The kind of shit them two girls I got living with me won't do," he tried to explain.

"How you know we won't do them things?" Harmony challenged, thrusting her chest into his belly.

"Oh, the two girls I got living with me are such innocent little angels! Why, just the thought of intercourse would make them faint," he sighed dramatically. "But you two? You look downright sinful! Two dirty little girls, two nasty little sluts."

"Hey!" Unity protested.

"We're not sluts!" Harmony shrilled.

"Never said y'all were," George said. "But you want my money? Need to make me think you are, that y'all are nothing but hos wanting you some nasty dick."

"More importantly," he said, grabbing his crotch. "Need me to think it's MY nasty dick y'all are hungry for."

"We are..." Harmony cooed, batting her eyes at him.

"Then show me," he said and found the song again and turned it up.

This time, they did put a little more emphasis on striking more seductive poses, thrusting their buttocks and breasts in his direction.

"Might want to smile; looks like y'all are trying to hold back some heavy duty diarrhea there," he suggested and the two girls laughed out loud.

They continued to dance, getting into the groove.

"No, no, see, that's how them two little darlings I got living with me, that's how they smile," George said.

"What? That's how I smile," Unity protested.

"Exactly," George said. "Need to smile like a ho."

"How's a ho smile?" Harmony asked, flinging her shirt at him.

"Mostly bottom teeth, no top ones," George said and demonstrated.

"No, what? Why?" Unity asked.

"Not really sure, but that photographer? That's what he told Beulah; smile with the bottom teeth, act like you got something in your top ones you don't want me to see, you know, like your girlfriend's pubic hair," George instructed.

"Gross!" Harmony screeched.

"Mr. Papillion!" Unity protested.

"We can go to the Dead End when y'all are ready," George said, getting to his feet.

"And y'all ain't ready yet," he said and flung Harmony's tee shirt back at her.

"Leave them songs out for us; we'll be ready by the time you're back," Unity challenged.

"Uh huh," George said and wrote down a list of ten songs on the back of one of his business envelopes.

"There," he said, handing Unity the envelope. "That's two sets of about fifteen minutes; remember, Rosy said about fifteen minutes, right?"

"All right, got to practice smiling, moving, and taking it off, right?" Harmony counted out.

"Right," he said, grabbed his laptop computer and printer and prepared to leave the house.

"Practice making me think you ain't nothing but a nasty little ho," he said, kissing Unity on her lips.

"And that you ready to do some pretty fucked up freaky shit with me," he said, kissing Harmony.

"Beulah's discs are on the TV, y'all need to look at them," he said and closed the door behind himself.

He had three service calls, eating lunch between call two and three.

He returned at four thirty and found two subdued girls sitting on the couch. Both were wearing their Papillion Plumbing caps.

"You right, we ain't ready," Unity said.

"Wow, let me get my calendar," George said tiredly. "For on this day, a woman did admit that a man was right."

"We're almost ready," Harmony defended.

"Tuesday; that's country fried steak day; they're probably already out," George mused. "But those burgers are killer."

"But I got pork chops out," Unity said.

"Oh, okay, I'm not wasting food," George said.

"But we can get a couple of Tequila Sunrises after?" Harmony asked,

"Yeah, sounds good now lose the hats," George said.

He came out of his shower and found Harmony sitting on his bed. She still had on the baseball cap and was looking at the floor.

"Hey!" he protested, pulling the towel a little tighter around himself.

"Mr. Papillion, you think... I mean, I don't think we can," Harmony faltered.

"We ain't going to be no good at dancing," Unity admitted from the door of his bedroom.

"Y'all do fine," George countered. "Now, get out of my room, huh?"

"I mean, I tried..." Harmony said.

"Me too," Unity said.

"But I just looked stupid trying get out my clothes," Harmony admitted.

"That sewing machine I had to drag over here, that thing work?" George asked.

When Ryan Thibodeaux, the owner of the rental house had finalized the eviction process against Jack and Donna Kohl, waiting the required thirty days, George had persuaded him to allow him to salvage what items the girls wanted. His office now housed those meager possessions; one of which was an old sewing machine.

"Yeah," Unity said.

"See?" George said, slipping on a pair of boxer shorts on underneath his towel, and then pulling on a tattered old tee shirt. "That's what I meant when I asked if y'all had outfits."

"I was just going to wear tee shirt and shorts; you kind of like that," Harmony admitted.

"I like that because you're my girls; you're in my house," George said.

"We're your girls, huh?" Unity smiled.

"But dancing? Kind of need to really ramp it up, kind of put it on display," George said, pulling on his ripped up shorts and ushering the two out of his bedroom.

"We go to the Dead End, you are not wearing that," Harmony said.

"Uh, you paying?" George asked.

"Please, Mr. Papillion?" Unity asked sweetly.

"Fine, fine, can't believe," he grumbled.

The three made the dinner together, cleaned up the kitchen together, then Unity went to George's room to help him pick out something suitable to wear. Harmony selected something for herself and something for her sister. George had to smile; for a bar, Unity picked out a dress shirt and would have picked out dress slacks, but acquiesced that jeans were fine, as long as the shoes were polished.

Harmony selected very short skirts and button up blouses for them, along with high heeled pumps.

"Now, this is homework," George said as he pulled open the door of the bar. "Pay attention. Music, moves, clothes. And don't just sit there saying 'she can't dance.' Watch what she's doing, even if she can't dance."

Dallas, a tall, leggy blonde with bland good looks served them their drinks and smiled vacantly.

"Those are hooks!" Unity said when an Asian girl dropped her leopard print blouse to the floor.

"Bingo," George said. "Bet they skirt's the same."

"God, hate this song!" Harmony complained as Van Halen's 'Jump' started to play.

"What? Seriously?" George asked. "How can you hate this? It's a flipping classic!"

He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed it affectionately.

"No one cares you hate it," he said and kissed her cheek. "But look around; most of the guys here think it's a fun little tune even if David Lee Rotten is a total douche."

She rested her head on his shoulder, nodding in agreement.

"She probably hates it too," George went on, nodding to the Asian girl. "Probably heard it a million times. But she knows that's the kind of stuff I want to hear, not Selena Go Away, or Justin Drown in a Lake."

"How about Celine Dion?" Unity smiled, resting her head on his other shoulder.

"Who? Celine Die, die, damn it, just die?" George asked.

"You're so funny," Harmony said and kissed his cheek.

"Uh huh," George said.

"Ready for another?" Dallas asked.

"Yeah, one more," George agreed as a petite red head bounced out to 'Supervixen' by Garbage.

THE END of 'Uneducated 01'

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your enjoyment. A sincere 'Thank You' for reading my stories.

Disclaimers. Yes, I need an Editor. Well aware of that. And by now you should be well aware I will not be getting one.

Yes, it jumps around too much.

Yes, it's too long.

Yes, there's too many people to keep track of.

Yes, it's in the wrong category.

Yes, it's stupid shit.

And, yes, I suck.

Feel better?

And you have a super fizzy kind of a day.