Extreme goofyness

Something bad happened to this writing prompt between the computer and my notepad: it became stupid. The prompt was to write a short piece about dating advice. I haven't the foggiest clue how I managed to turn it into goofy camp horror.

“It’s all about the eyes,” Vlad said.

Wolfman clucked his tongue. “No it’s not. Chicks dig wild boys!”

“Errgh. Strong!” Frankie interjected.

“Nonsense. Women enjoy men with a sense of style, elegance, class. Someone who can lavish them with fine wines, someone who can dance the tango with them. Someone with impeccable taste.”

“Give me a break. The only ‘taste’ you have is OF them.” He and Frankie shared a chuckle. “Sure, you start out alright. But you know chicks freak out when you do your crazy rat thing. Chicks hate mice.”

“Bat!” Vlad shouted indignantly. “It’s a bat!” He paused to sip his latte. “And it’s not like the two of you are such ladies men. One look at you, you hairy beast, and they run away screaming.” Vlad glanced over at Frankie. “And you,” he said, his lips curled in disgust. “I don’t even think the Fab 5 could help you.”

Frankie grunted menacingly and pounded his fist against the table.

Wolfie’s gaze roamed to the coffee counter. The café was in the middle of a shift change, and they were getting a new waitress. A wolfish grin spread across his face. “Okay, Vlad. Put your money where your mouth is. When the new waitress comes over, let’s see who can sweep her off her feet.”

Vlad glanced over at the girl. Their original waitress was handing her book of tabs over to the new girl. “Ick,” Vlad said. “She’s type AB. I hate AB.”

Wolfie’s eyes blazed with challenge. “What’s the matter Vlad? Chicken?”

“Errrgggh. Chicken.” Frankie said, his mouth watering.

Vlad pretended to brush a piece of lint from his blood red tie. “No, of course not. It’s just that I find AB so distasteful.”

Wolfie rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to marry her. Let’s just see who can get her to agree to a date. Unless,” he leaned back in his chair and tilted his chin up, “you’re ready to give up and admit that the ladies dig me more.”

Vlad laughed, a rich, velvety laugh that caused every head in the café to swivel his direction. He leaned across the table, his voice low. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I accept the challenge.”

Wolfie smiled and turned to Frankie. “So, you want to get in on this?”

“Errgggh! Chicken,” Frankie answered back.