“Zero F*cks Given” (Scene 4)

This excerpt is from Dave Lundy’s new novel, “Zero F*cks Given” (still in development) — the prequel to the bestselling comedy “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery”.

Zabka pulled his car up next to the UB girls and slowed down to match their speed. He screamed over the loud ZZ Top song to his friends, “No more elevating!”

The Camaro’s obnoxious ruckus made the girls take notice.

Zabka eyed them and yelled, “I gotta enticing meal for you!” Then, along with the chorus, he shouted, “She do the tube snake boogie!”

The girls stared at each other like they weren’t getting the gist.

He recognized this and used hand gestures to communicate. While grasping an invisible phallus in each hand, he rhythmically thrust them into his mouth — left, right, left right — with the precision of a professional dick-mime, poking the proper inside of his cheek with his tongue with each insertion.

During this exchange, Zabka’s message was received loud and clear, and the girls’ faces vomited.

Magnum snapped a photo of the wooing, clearly knowing for posterity’s sake, it was a moment worth preserving.

With Zabka’s hands off the wheel, the car drifted towards the girls’ car in a hair-raising way.

Bob looked closely at the girls and thought they might be regulars at Third Base.

Zabka slammed his hands back on the wheel and served back into his lane, narrowly avoiding an accident. He gunned the engine and took off down the road.

“What the fuck was that?!” Bob jammed his finger on the button to turn off the music. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Magnum was animated. “That was awesome!”

Zabka was overly pleased with himself. “That’s called confidence… and not giving a fuck.”

Bob continued to read Zabka the riot-act, “You’ve been a poster-child for that but this was some next-level shit!”

“Whaddya mean?” Zabka asked.

“It’s not like you’re a master of keeping your composure, but around girls, you do.”

“Let me tell you, the conversation we had a minute ago was eye-opening. No chicks in the house?! Are you kidding me? Seriously, are you fucking kidding me?! Enough is enough.” Zabka played drums on the steering wheel with his fingertips. “We’ve been overly polite to girls — above and beyond — and where has it gotten us? Nowhere.”

“No offense, but those girls didn’t exactly eat up your courtship,” Magnum said. “But if the goal was to frighten the living-shit outta them — well, bravo, mission accomplished.”

Bob added, “Personally, I’m shocked they weren’t fighting each other to give you their digits.”

“Were they throwing themselves at our feet before?” Zabka asked with eyebrows raised. “No. And if we keep doing the same thing over and over, are we gonna get different results? No. That’s called insanity. I buy girls drinks — nothing. I compliment them — nothing. I’m sick of it. It’s time to mix things up.”

“At the core, you do have a valid point. But, not to sound lame or anything, don’t you think your new approach might have been a touch off-putting? I think you went a bit extreme.”

“That’s your problem, Bob. You give a fuck… and for no reason. We don’t know those girls.”

“You’re wrong. They might be Base chicks. We might run into them at some point!”

“Even better.” Zabka stopped at a streetlight. “Look, you can try the Don-Juan-thing if you like. I’m done.”

Bob shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy?!” Zabka was frenzied. “Out of the three of us, we had one hook-up last year and no women in the house! No valid women at least. That’s terrible! And I’m crazy?! Okay.”

Bob scratched his head and began to wonder if his friend was right.

Magnum asked, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Plan?” Zabka said. “I gotta plan… to get laid tonight!”

“Oh, come on.” Bob chuckled. “What plan? Get some girl love-drunk on your charm? Like those girls in the car? Or just straight-up drunk?”

“No… even though I could pull-off the charm part… what I’m gonna do is call Rebecca.” The light turned green and Zabka eased on the gas. “For a chick, she’s super cool.”

“Rebecca?”

“Yeah. I was up here taking a class earlier in the summer and we met and started banging. I wasn’t even really trying, it just kinda happened — which, I guess, goes to prove my point.” Zabka licked his chops. “And, she’s got some tig-ol’-bitties!”

Bob clapped his hands and rubbed them. “Dude, let’s start things off on the right note. Get her in the house! Or has she been already?”

Zabka had to think about it. “Shit. No, she hasn’t. She always tells me to come to her place… and on her face… she loves a taste! Ha-ha! Damn, I’m good!”

Bob and Magnum shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

“Anyway,” Zabka continued. “I’ll tell her to come over, and I’ll get the job done. I haven’t seen her in a month, so she’s gonna be super pumped to get my call.”

They passed the Grover Cleveland Golf Course — named after the former mayor of Buffalo and ex-President of the United States — and crossed Bailey Avenue.

“Hey, look!” Zabka pointed. “There’s South Campus.” He honked the horn twice. “We’re officially back in Buffalo!” Something he said didn’t sound quite right to him. “No, the Buffalo. We’re officially back in the Buffalo! And daaamn it feels good!”

“The Buffalo?” Magnum asked. “I don’t quite follow.”

“Come on, man. The Buffalo… the one, the only. There’s no other place like it.” If Zabka was capable of getting sentimental, his expression and tone at this moment were as close as he’d be to showing it. He smiled proudly. “The best goddamn place in the world.”

UB’s South Campus was built in the 1920s and is home to classic, ivy-covered, academic buildings. About a mile later, they took a left on Winspear Avenue — the street that borders the bottom of the city campus — and arrived at their house. The roof over the front porch was covered in bird shit, and the paint on the siding was chipped badly. The lawn looked like it had never been mowed and was covered with yellow dandelions. To top things off, a rat had torn into a bag of garbage and made an impressive mess near the side door. All things considered, it was one of the finer looking college houses on the street.

Bob smiled. “Home sweet home.”

Zabka pulled the Camero into the driveway and drove straight into a pothole, scraping the car’s front bumper. “Fuck!” he yelled.

“Relax,” Bob said. “I’m sure your precious pussy-magnet is just fine.”

Zabka drove behind the house and parked in the backyard. He jumped out of his car, squatted in front of it to inspect the damage, and rubbed the bumper. “It’s not bad. She’ll be alright.”

“Phew,” Bob said as he opened his door. “Thank god for that.”

Magnum climbed out from the backseat. “You think Satan’s here?”

“I don’t see his piece-of-shit car, so probably not,” Zabka replied.

The three of them pulled their bags out of the Camero and walked to the side door of their house. Zabka unlocked it and they walked in. Immediately, an odor hit them — the type of skunky air that lingers at a reggae show.

Magnum said, “It definitely smells like Satan lives here.”

Inside, to their left, a set of stairs went down to a scary-looking basement — the laundry and a spare-room were down there. They followed another few stairs straight up to the hallway between the kitchen and living room. The tatty interior of their living quarters helped strengthen the case that the place should be condemned.

Bob and Magnum took a right and went to the stairway to the second floor.

Zabka turned down the small hallway off the kitchen and headed toward his bedroom. Another bedroom was across from his and both doors were closed. As he got closer, he heard a strange noise that sounded like a cross between a chirping squirrel and someone rubbing a balloon. He paused to listen and see if he was imagining things. He wasn’t.

Zabka opened the door expecting to find a rodent, but he walked in on something far worse — a young man in the nude, holding a blowup doll’s hips, going-to-town in “her” backdoor — an act that even Zabka found to be perverse. The plastic squeaked from one last thrust.

Like statues in a Mexican-standoff, the dumbstruck stranger, his plaything, and Zabka didn’t move — their eyes locked in the most uncomfortable three-way imaginable.

The doll’s lifeless mouth was agape — its red lips in a tight circle.

Slowly, thunder clouds formed in Zabka’s stare — and for this unfortunate fuck, that meant the forecast called for doom.

The doll-fucker panicked, screamed bloody-murder, and kicked Zabka smack-dab in the nuts.

Curled-over in pain, Zabka’s balls were thumping like the bass in an Ice Cube song. As he slowly looked up, he quoted the rapper’s lyric but several-octaves higher, “You picked the wrong nigga ta fuck wit.” He then karate chopped the doll free from the pervert’s engorged appendage.

The intruder covered his bare crotch and stammered incoherently.

At that point, Zabka was done being friendly. He swung a left-hook and nailed the guy in the eye.

Bob and Magnum heard the commotion and came rushing down the stairs. When they arrived, they found Zabka standing over the naked guy, hogtied with a deflated French-maid doll, with a dirty sock shoved in his mouth.

Magnum’s head was spinning, looking for danger.

Tension released from Bob’s body. “Zabka, is there something you want to share? Trust us, we’re not judging.”

Magnum relaxed and said with a half-smile, “Yep, this is a judgment-free zone.”

The two friends looked at each other and nodded their heads vigorously. 

“No judgments whatsoever,” added Bob.

Zabka responded, “I found this dickhead in my room gettin’-it-on with blowup-Betty. I don’t know who the fuck he is, but we’re about to find out. Either the easy way… or the hard way. That part’s upta him.”

Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5

zerofucksgiven

“Zero F*cks Given” (Scene 2)

This excerpt is from Dave Lundy’s new novel, “Zero F*cks Given” (still in development) — the prequel to the bestselling comedy “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery”.

Magnum offered to drive and picked up Bob from the house his mom had moved into. From Binghamton, they drove an hour north to Syracuse and parked near the Carrier Dome. Zabka drove west from nearby Utica and met them at their designated transfer point and nearly the same time.

Magnum and Bob grabbed their bags, jumped into Zabka’s black Camaro, and they took off for Buffalo. For a good chunk of the way, the three of them argued about and insulted each other’s hometowns. The phrases “the armpit of the state” and “the asshole of New York” were used to describe their locations. By the time they got to Buffalo, a neutral third-party would’ve said the winner was a toss-up. 

Zabka steered his muscle car off of the New York State Thruway and drove north on highway 290. He was singing along with the Grateful Dead song on the radio — “Livin’ on reds, vitamin C, and cocaine. All a friend can say is… ‘Ain’t it a shame?’ Truckin’… up to Buff-a-lo!” A slow-moving eighteen-wheeler merged in front of him and wrecked his joyous mood. He laid on the horn and floored it, veering around the trucker and taking the exit’s curvy offramp at a screeching 75 mph.

After straightening out on Main Street, Zabka loosened his grip of the steering wheel. “Did you see that asshole?” he queried his passengers.

“Yeah, the nerve of that guy,” Bob answered from the seat beside him. He turned and looked at Magnum in the backseat, cramped between their luggage, and they chuckled.

Zabka’s face relaxed, clear of the black-eye that was on the horizon. He stuck his arm out the window on that sunny afternoon and floated his hand up and down like a plane as it cut through the wind. “Are you guys excited for tonight?”

“You mean for Earl’s shindig?” Magnum asked.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Zabka had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What are you up to?” Bob examined his friend. “You got somethin’ planned?”

“Let’s just say Zabka has a few tricks up his sleeve.”

Whenever Zabka referred to himself in the third-person, Bob knew something good was in-store. “I expect nothing less.”

Magnum added, “I hope it includes girls.”

“Of course it does, you dummy.” Zabka bounced up and down. “We need to christen the new house.”

“Speaking of girls,” Bob said. “I was just thinkin’… how many girls did we have in our house last year?”

Zabka shrugged. “Plenty, I’m sure.” He began a mental tally. “To start, there was Earthshaker — that ginormous chick from the Base that you banged. Good lord, you truly have no shame.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “First of all, I did not ‘bang her.’ We…”

“Yeah, ya did. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. No need to be ashamed — if Magnum were in your shoes, he would’ve banged her too. Ain’t that right?”

Magnum fiddled with his mustache. “Umm… I don’t know about that.”

“Oh shit! Even he wouldn’t’ve banged her!” Zabka feigned sincerity. “Seriously, Bob, how low can you go? Have you hit rockbottom yet?”

“Listen, dickheads… she took advantage of me in my very vulnerable drunken-state. We barely got outta the bar before her mouth was playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with my balls. She was like, ‘Nom, nom, nom…’ just goin’ to town. The chick was nuts! Literally! I’ve never had a girl laser-focused on my sack like that.”

“I bet you’ve had dudes laser-focused on your sack like that,” Magnum remarked from the peanut gallery.

Bob rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

Zabka added, “She certainly didn’t have a nut allergy!”

“Certainly not!” Zabka added.

“She shoulda went to Ball State, not UB.” Magnum was proud of his sexual wit.

Bob chuckled before he continued recounting his escapade. “Also, as I recall, we didn’t go to our house. We went around the corner to her place. And finally, she wasn’t that big — you tend to exaggerate. She just had a little bitta junk-in-the-trunk.”

Zabka threw his head back and laughed. “A little bit?! She had a shit-ton! She’s shaped like a pear, and I thought her ass was two garbage bags overstuffed with marshmallows!”

Magnum also shared an insightful observation. “Yeah, her ass was so big, it had its own zip code”

“Okay, enough,” Bob said. “You made your point. And fuck you, guys. I’m telling you, her mouth has superpowers.” He was glowing. “That shit was magical.”

Magnum looked up and tapped his chin. “Oh, I know. There was the woman that hooked up our cable. She was kinda hot.”

Bob replied, “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.” Magnum stroked his mustache. “These girls rang our doorbell and I invited them inside.”

“You mean the ones selling cookies?” Bob shook his head. “The Girl Scout and her mom? Come on, man.”

The three of them sat in silence, racking their brains.

“You see my point now? Last year… it was pathetic.” Bob glanced at Magnum and then Zabka to make sure they absorbed the gravity of it all. “Did anyone even get laid?”

Magnum moved like he was going to respond.

Bob stopped him with his hand. “Before you say it, your hand doesn’t count, Magnum. We had zero, zip, nada, none.” He hung his head and held up his hand in the shape of a circle. “Zero fucks.”

“Okay, Bob,” Zabka responded. “You made your damn point. We didn’t fuck any women last year — zero fucks given. The closest we got was your cock-n-mouth tryst with Earthshaker. I agree, it’s shameful.”

“You wanna know what the really sad part is?” Bob asked rhetorically. “No women got to receive pleasure from our dongs.”

With an exaggerated frown, Zabka added, “Yeah, I feel sorry for them.”

Bob continued, “All that aside, here’s the good news — it’s a new year and we’re in a new house. We’ve officially hit the reset button. Plus it’s our last year in college. We need to go out on a high note.”

“With a bang!” Zabka added.

“Should we set a goal?” Magnum asked. “Like the number of women?”

“Well, there are six of us in the house, soooo… we should easily be able to pull in two girls each. Real girls — not girls working for a utility company or selling shit door to door.” Bob did the quick math. “So that’s twelve.”

Zabka offered, “Shit, I could pull in a dozen myself. What are you guys gonna do?”

Magnum said, “Yeah, I could do that too.”

Zabka slapped his knee and laughed along with Bob. “But seriously, think this through. The others in the house are Satan, some other useless bastard that Satan knows, and Jimmy “The Italian” — so, a stoner, probably another stoner, and a short guy who’s prematurely-balding and talks like he’s been kicked in the nuts. Something tells me they won’t be chipping-in.”

“Yeah, they’re completely useless,” Bob agreed. “No way they’re putting any points on the scoreboard.”

Zabka nodded his head. “Yep, so that just leaves me — the lone wolf. I’m gonna get more tang than a Space Shuttle mission!”

“Whoa… don’t put all your vaginas in one basket.” Bob tapped his chest with both hands. “I’ll contribute.”

“Perhaps,” Zabka replied. “I guess you did show some promise last year.”

“Yeah, and what about me?” Magnum asked.

“What about you?” Zabka replied. “With all due respect, this is clearly a two-man operation. But don’t let that stop you from giving it the old-college-try.”

“I’ll show you guys.” Magnum folded his arms. “Heck, I may even decide to get a girlfriend.”

“Highly doubtful,” Zabka responded. “Sorry, just being real.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Magnum leaned forward. “I have a plan.”

“Um-hm, sure ya do.”

Zabka eyed a car with a few girls in his rearview mirror and put on his black Ray-Bans. He slowed down to take a closer look and let them pass on his left.

The girl driving had parents from India, and the other two were caucasian. They were cute and having fun car-dancing to some Janet Jackson song.

Zabka stuck his head out of the window and yelled, “Hey, pretty ladies, what’s going on?!”

They looked at him like they couldn’t understand.

He made a nob-twisting motion with his fingers. “Turn down the music!”

The girls obliged and stared back.

“Let’s go grab some food.” Zabka offered, “Our treat.”

Magnum gave them a friendly, yet awkward, wave — the type Mickey Mouse does during a parade.

Bob gulped at the thought of spending money he didn’t have.

The girls giggled together in a manner that was full of rejection. The Indian girl accelerated and they took off. The bumper of their car had a blue and white UB sticker on it.

“Well, there goes that,” Bob said. “Hey, you tried.”

Magnum leaned forward and said, “Don’t elevate the vagina.”

“How ’bout that for a pearl of wisdom,” Zabka replied. “What does that even mean?”

“My dad told me that and basically explained it as, ‘You don’t reward a girl just because she’s a girl.’ I feel like that advice fits here.”

Bob thought about what he said and offered his interpretation. “I guess, maybe just the thought of it — the chance that we might ‘get some’ — makes us irrationally raise vagina to a level where we haven’t reached yet, and we do things unnaturally. Don’t go overboard — don’t think too far ahead — and treat it extra special before it deserves it.”

The discussion jogged a memory in Zabka’s head. It was of advice his father had given him soon after he failed miserably to court Nicki O’Shea. Her reaction was bad, but what she did afterwards was downright cruel. The pain still stung, and his embarrassment still lingered. He reentered the present with his head glowing like a light bulb. “You know what? You’re goddamn right. Vagina deserves nothing for nothing. Ain’t nothin’ special about it.”

Bob said, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Listen to me,” Zabka said. “When we don’t even know a girl and we’re just figuring her out, we jump too far ahead and give it status it hasn’t deserved yet — then we lose their respect. Vagina needs to earn it to be elevated. I’ve been too nice for too fucking long.”

“Yeah, you’re Mr. Nice Guy, alright.” Magnum half-joked. “Although not as bad as Bob.”

“Well, at least we can talk to girls without chewing on our tongues.”

Bob nodded in agreement with Zabka’s supportive retort.

“I”m being serious,” Zabka emphasized. “And you guys have been too nice as well. Bob, take you for example. Remember what happened on spring break last year?”

Bob shrugged. “Um, not really.”

“Then let me remind you. You were trying to get with this girl and, after a while, her friend told you to buy a drink for the girl you were talking with. And what did you do? Even though you didn’t have much money and were living off one Subway footlong a day? You did what she said and bought her a drink. Then what happened?” He paused dramatically. “I’ll tell you… she left and you got nothing, zip, zero. Ring any bells?”

Bob folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Girls take advantage of nice guys, and why wouldn’t they? Nice guys let them — it’s their own fault. Women see them as weak and pounce all over it.”

Magnum added, “Yeah, I’ve heard about girls bragging about going out and not paying for one drink all night.”

“You see?” Zabka said. “Too often we play it nice… and nice doesn’t win.”

“Yeah, okay. But what would we do different?” Bob asked.

The Dead song had ended and a Mighty Taco commercial was squawking in their ears.

“First of all, you need to fix the tunes.” Zabka whacked Bob. “You’re in charge. Put in the ZZ Top CD…” He grinned. “El Loco.”

Bob slid in the CD and the blues-rock song began. It started with an uptempo drum beat and maracas until the dirty guitar kicked in. Their heads were bouncing.

Zabka cranked up the volume and sped up to the girl’s car.

In a panic, Bob said, “Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

There was a devilish look in Zabka’s eyes. “You’ll see.”

Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3

zerofucksgiven