Yeah, I'm talking to you.
Wait. No, I don't mean YOU, the guy behind the bar. No, no, no. Sorry!
No. I don't mean you, either, lady in the ermine mink, chewing bubble gum and wearing way too much jewelry. No, I don't mean you, you infant sucking on a binky in a stroller. God dammit! Just how hard is it to figure out exactly who I'm sending out my come hither vibes to?
My name's Heather. Come hither to Heather, sweetie. Hither. Heather. Hic! Hehe.
Hmmm. Sorry about that. Ummm...what's yours? Name, that it.
Would you like to buy me a drink? No, no, come over here, don't be shy. No, seriously. Look! Get over here, okay? What do I have to do, scream rape or something? Look, get over here! Get. Over. HERE! I’m warning you! You think I won’t do it? You think I won’t do it? Okay, you son of a bitch, you asked for it! RA—
Ah, that’s better. Come over here and buy me a nice big drink, big boy.
What’s that? You don’t want me to suggestively pat your beefy thighs? Look, I’m a little hard of hearing, just so you know. Oh. That’s not your thigh? Oops. Giggle. Sorry about that. And just for the record, I take back that big boy comment, too.
I’ll take a red lady in a dirty glass. What’s that? What’s a red lady? It’s a pink lady, only it’s her time of the month. HA! Hey, it’s my favorite drink. I’ve already had thirteen tonight. Hic!
So tell me, what brings you to this city, to this street, to this bar, to this barstool? Oh, I see…you’re wondering the same thing, are you?
I’ll tell you what brought you here. Me. Me and the power of my come hither stare. I’m a modern-day Medusa, you know. Yes, and the minute that you’re caught in my net, I have the power to turn you to stone.
Turn you to stone, my boy. So why don’t you just sit back and let it happen.
What? What kind of stone? Well, I don’t know, I really never thought much about it. I kind of figured that your whole body just kind of turned into a stony kind of substance. Maybe onyx? Quartz-veined marble? Well, I know, that doesn’t sound that comfortable, and really, I was just speaking metaphorically. I mean, I haven’t really turned anyone to stone that I know of. What would I do with them? Use them as lawn ornaments? They sound awfully hard to carry. I’m only one woman, you know.
Look, forget the turn to stone thing. Okay? Just wipe it out of your head. No, seriously! I don’t have any supernatural powers, none at all. Don’t be scared. Stop trembling! What I’m really trying to say is, I want to get to know you better.
Does it look as if I care that you’re married? I’m not looking for eternity here, pal. I mean, is your wife in this room, or something?
Okay, so maybe she is in this room. Maybe we can sneak around her. Did she see you come over to me? Oh, don’t give me that “everyone heard me come over here” crap! Maybe she had her back turned at the time! Maybe she doesn’t have her hearing aid on! Maybe she’s passed out from too much cheap booze! You think? Huh?
So what do you say, guy? How about coming up to my room and pumping out another bullet from your six-shooter?
No, come closer to me, say it again. Let me hear your heart beat. Let me catch a scent of beer on your breath. Let me see your Adam's apple dangle in front of me.
Say it again. Say it slowly, once again.
We'll now resume the regular scheduling of a very special episode of The Bachelor: Appalachian Incest edition. Will Bart choose sister number two, Essie, or sister number three, Maribelle? Or will he succumb to the charms of dear old Mom?