Shih-Tzu Sashimi

Sponsored by Kat Burgett

Thanks for keeping me out of the bathtub for all these years. Happy Anniversary and Much Love,

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The Script For Today's Comic!

Shih-Tzu Sashimi
(6 Panels)

Panel 1:
(Tom and Tanner, still in the living room, perhaps a shadow of Amy behind them)

TANNER: "She was so perfect, Tom."

TOM: "She had to have a nice body, Tanner. She was a stripper."

TANNER: "No, she was beautiful inside…."

TOM: "Give me a scalpel and I'll verify that."

Panel 2:

TANNER: "That's not fair! You never even knew Ann!"

TOM: "I never knew her because she didn't want to hang out with your nerdy friends. We met once for dinner at a restaurant you couldn't afford, and she ordered four wines and stuck you with the check even though she makes three times what you do."

Panel 3:

TOM: "And the facts I do know? It took her four months to sleep with you, even though she's hooked up with these two other guys in the past month. You had to buy her flowers every day for a week before she'd date you."

Panel 4:
(Still them talking, but feel free to spice it up with pictures of the action, turning this into a voiceover.)

TOM: "And she's the top-earning stripper at your club, which means that she's a professional at fleecing men."

TANNER: "They're not all like that…"

TOM: "But she is, isn't she?"

Panel 5:

TANNER (quietly, small): "She doesn't mean it."

Panel 6:

TOM (disgusted): "If I showed you a picture of her eating a puppy, would you think less of her?"

TANNER: "Shih-tzu or a Golden?"

Ferrett Says

I should add that I know a lot of strippers… Well, okay, I know three of them well enough to call them “friends.” And they’re all very cool people.

But I’m not trying to get them to show me their boobs.

Unfortunately, when they’re on the job, they’re usually trying to Hoover cash out of strange men’s pockets without having some sub-socialized idiot following them home, and the dynamic becomes much more changed. It is possible to become a stripper without learning to treat men as glorified ATMs…. But if that’s how you’re inclined to treat men anyway, and you’re good at faking attraction, you’re going to do fairly well at the club. (As Tom references here.)

My fondest memory in a strip club was when I went to one in Ann Arbor and spent the evening talking to a stripper in a bathrobe while everyone else was getting dances. They mocked me for talking when I could have been viewing – and yes, there were two women with me, each getting their own secret thrills – but I found the conversation to be way more interesting because I couldn’t hear the ratcheting ka-ching! of the cash register going off every five minutes. (Plus, she liked Terry Pratchett. I mean, how can you not want to talk to a woman who likes Vimes?)

I liked her and thought she might make a cool friend…. But I didn’t know how to ask for her number without sounding just like every other turgid bozo there. So I left home without a promise of future contact. I still think of her, though.

I don’t think I would have paid twenty to sit down and have coffee with her, but it would have been much more appealing to me than the other things that twenty would have purchased. But that’s just me.

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