True story:
When I was stationed at military installation in another time-space continuum, I would frequent a bar owned by a retired E-7 who knew exactly what the GIs wanted. That was cheap liquor, great music and good looking women.
Sometimes he ran short of the good looking women but the more one imbibed in the adult beverages, the more the beautiful women seemed to appear out of nowhere.
I walked in the door of the establishment one evening and spied a nice looking lady all alone and tapping her feet to the music. She looked sort of like a Bridget Bardot but with darker hair.
I went straight over to her table asked if she would like to dance. So we hit it off right away. I shared the evening with her dancing, drinking and engaging in great conversation.
Her name was Martha. In those days, I didn't want to get tied down with one woman. So I didn't ask for her phone number, nor did she ask for mine.
About a week later, I walked in the same bar and the same beautiful buxom brunette was sitting at the same table, alone and tapping her feet to the music.
After meeting her before and feeling comfortable around her, I walked over and sat down at the table.
She looked at me and said, "who said you could sit down here?"
I replied, "well I just thought that..."
She interrupted and said, "you thought wrong. So get your ass out of the chair and leave me alone before I call the Bouncer."
I said "okay" and walked away, staying clear away from her the entire evening.
You guys probably know how the rest of this story is going to go but I will tell it anyway. Another week goes by and I walk in the same bar again. The same beautiful buxom brunette is at the same table.
She sees me and starts waving excitedly and call my name. I approached her like she was a coiled snake. She asked me to join her and was very pleasant.
At this juncture, I figured that Martha would be in the fun-zone and not marriage material.
Just like a couple weeks earlier, we shared drinks, danced and had some great laughs. She was definitely going to remain in the fun-zone.
Like I said, you all can probably figure out how the rest of this goes. Several alternating weeks go by and I would see the fun-zone babe, only to run into the possessed one the following week. I learned to avoid the one who didn't wave at me when I walked in the door. You could actually feel the temperature drop when you walked by the evil one.
This went on for a few months until I walked in the bar one night and saw two of them sitting at the table. The good sister, Martha, waved at me and called my name. The evil sister looked at me like she wanted to sink her claws into my eye sockets and carve her initials on my face.
Martha introduced me to her sister Madeline, who promptly asked, "why did you ask this son-of-a-bitch over here?"
Martha told me to not pay attention to her evil sister and begged me to dance. This is not the end of the story.
Now I thought that this sort of thing only happens in movies but it really happened to me. Regardless, I was learning to avoid the evil sister when she came in alone and ignored here when I was enjoying company with the good sister.
On different evenings they would come to the bar alone and as before, I would wait for the good one to wave and call my name. Sometimes, she would just smile then I knew it was okay to come over to her table. On some evenings when I was there first, Martha would come over to my table. The evil one would walk by and hiss as some of her scales would fall to the floor.
One night, I was in the barracks and talking to one of the barracks rats. The "barracks rat" for the uninitiated is that creature who wisely saves his money rather than spending it on riotous living and women of a questionable reputation. They don't go anywhere in their spare time but hung around the barracks.
I'll call this barracks rat, Fred. He was a quiet guy, very studious, smart but lacking excitement in his military career. One night he was lamenting the lack of excitement in his life and wondering if he should get out more.
I suggested the local watering hole and extolled the plethora of petticoats and abundance of feminine charms whilst allaying oneself in the ambiance fueled by adult beverages. He agreed to go to the watering hole with me.
As soon as we walked in, the beautiful, buxom brunette waved and called my name. I wasn't going to share her with Fred but asked him to walk over to her table with me. The music was really loud that night and she introduced herself to Fred but I could not hear what name she used.
We all sat down and I knew it was the evil sister when she ordered a double! The bitch probably took a few lessons on charm from her sister, who wasn't there. I felt like leaving Fred and mad Madeline alone together but that would be like leaving a little lamb with a ravenous wolf.
I had no idea what kind of trouble she would cause for Fred and I felt sorry for him. Besides, if he did have a really bad time with the evil sister he would go back to the barracks and blame me.
So I felt that I had to play big brother. We had a few rounds of drinks that were served by tall German waitress by the name of Hilda. She had a set of really long legs!
Like all the other waitresses, she carried the drinks on those big round, heavy Masonite trays that looked the size of a manhole cover.
Martha kept insulting Hilda every time she brought the drinks over. The music was so loud that I couldn't hear what was said.
After the last round of drinks was set on the table, Hilda yelled, "I'm getting tired of your shit!" (Just imagine that with a German accent.)
At that comment, Hilda took the tray in both hands and slammed the bottom of it right on the evil sister's face!
Hilda tossed the tray aside and I saw Madeline's eyes roll around then close as she fell back on the floor and as Hilda did one of those dives on her opponent like you see the heavy weight wrestlers do.
The Blitzkrieg was on! I really thought the Hilda was going to kill the bitch. She was landing punches that would make Mike Tyson cry!
Fred looked at me and asked if we should stop it. I told him that I wasn't going to risk the wrath of the blonde kraut, who's father must have been a guard in a concentration camp. I figured that the way she was landing those punches, she didn't learn them from her mother.
It took several bouncers to pull Hilda off the busted up babe.
I was a regular in the establishment and the Manager asked me what happened after things settled down. I told him not to fire Hilda because Madeline had it coming. Hilda was the paradigm and patience and virtue. Madeline was completely at fault. Okay, I might have lied about the virtue but the Manager let Hilda keep her job.
After that, the long-legged German blonde treated me like a king.
I never saw the twins again. They banned Madeline from the bar but because her sister looked like her, they probably never let Martha in again.
I never want to get involved with twin sisters again.
