I have a friend, "Window", that is one of the most good-natured dudes around. I call him Window because when he wants to go drinkin' he has to sneak out the window to escape the wife (okay, it only happened once, but I swear to God he actually did sneak into his own home). Well, he got loose and was out on Friday night- which always bodes well for a good story.
Picture this: Window and I are sitting outside of our local bar having a smoke. I see my dad's truck and think I spy my dad in his signature white t-shirt standing nearby. So, accordingly, I yell out "Hey Gay Dad!" No response. The only other peeps around are the bartender ("T") and Redshirt Guy. Redshirt goes over and tells "dad" that I called him gay, and suddenly "dad" is stomping out into the street, cursing and pointing at Window and I.
As you might have guessed (yes, I KNOW I need glasses), it was in fact NOT my dad but rather a very fat, very drunk loud guy in a beer-stained shirt who was now threatening to fight Window and I for calling him gay. I'm levelheaded (you know me) but am worried that Window is going to get his hackles up and go beat up some drunken idiot (seriously- this guy was hizammered!). Redshirt starts trying to get his buddy (fat guy in a little shirt!) to fight. T the bartender is in Fatty's face telling him to GTF out of here.
Fatty: "I'm a stomp yer ass for ya! Ya'll pussies done call me gay..
yer the gay fuckers! Ima whoop you and him both!"
Me: "Noone called you gay. I thought you were my dad, who is gay, and it was merely a case of mistaken identi..."
Fatty: "Shut da FUCK up! You done did it and I knows it! Ima ::stumble:: whup ::more stumbling:: yer ass for ya!"
Fatty starts directing his yelling and pointing at Window, as if HE was the one who yelled something. I find this hilarious.
T: "You need to get the FUCK out of here! You're never coming into this bar again now take your dumbass home right fucking now!"
At this point Chubs is yelling, Redshirt is yelling for him to fight us, T is screaming at Chubs to leave, Window is semi-loudly trying to explain that HE didn't even say a word, and I am laughing on the inside. A lot.
Fatty continues wobbling in the street, yelling profanities. Window is calm for now, but his anger level is rising. I am keeping a straight face while finding the site of this beer-soaked tubbo stumbling around in the street Hi-larious. God loves putting me in these spots and I love him for doing it!
Redshirt succeeds (finally) in getting Porkneck (clever combination of pork chop and redneck) over to his truck across the street. He is fuming (or hungry- hard to tell). Rather than get in his truck he sits on a log fence, crosses his arms, and stares at us. As he begins to open his mouth yet again we hear a loud CRACK! Yes, he broke the fence, then toppled backwards in probably the most ridiculous way a person could do so. His legs actually shoot out in a V shape as he lands on the back of his neck and rolls over.
Tears. TEARS, people. I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I felt surely this was Karma giving me a present for not punching the fat off of some drunken moron. "Thanks, Caleb." Says the Universe. "No, thank you!" says Caleb with sincere gratitude. Life is fair.
Or so I thought.
The next night I'm getting hammered- probably all the way up to an 8 for me. (If you don't know me, that's pretty drunk.) I go to take a girl back to my place after we leave. It's late. We're drunk. I go to molest her in the hallway and things are going great. Really great. Then, my PLAN was to lean back against the other wall of the hallway and pull her towards me. I, however, was not IN that particular part of the hallway (the part with a wall) but rather I was in the entryway part. So I, completely flat-footed, fall backward exactly smack on my ass and head. I BOUNCED.
In fairness, after the first full second of shock at what happened, I proceeded to laugh at myself uproariously for at least a minute.
Or so I thought.
The next night I'm getting hammered- probably all the way up to an 8 for me. (If you don't know me, that's pretty drunk.) I go to take a girl back to my place after we leave. It's late. We're drunk. I go to molest her in the hallway and things are going great. Really great. Then, my PLAN was to lean back against the other wall of the hallway and pull her towards me. I, however, was not IN that particular part of the hallway (the part with a wall) but rather I was in the entryway part. So I, completely flat-footed, fall backward exactly smack on my ass and head. I BOUNCED.
In fairness, after the first full second of shock at what happened, I proceeded to laugh at myself uproariously for at least a minute.
I guess the Universe wasn't done being funny, was it?
Yours,
Sore-Ass Caleb
Yours,
Sore-Ass Caleb
Don't worry, folks, there were 2 people laughing uproariously in that hallway.
ReplyDeleteHe did bounce.
But, he also did laugh.
Not as hard as I did. (Or still am...)
- The Molested One
Now that I get to thinking about it, I'm thinking maybe someone pushed me.
ReplyDeleteYeah, that's it. Foul play.
As the only other person in that hallway, I can attest to the fact that no, you were not pushed.
ReplyDeleteWell, maybe pushed by your drunkenness. I'll give ya that.
It's come to my attention that certain southern readers of this blog would prefer that I use "Y'all" instead of "Ya'll." While I certainly do not concede any wrongness on my part in this matter, I do realize that there are various spellings of this word that could be used.
ReplyDeleteSince I personally don't care, and am totally not a non-compromising, my way or the highway egomaniac, I would like to certify that I will be using "Y'all" in all future scenarios.
You're welcome.