Friday, Sept 10, 2010
The Curious Urinal Interview
Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi
She's one of the members of the 'Jersey Shore' gang, and probably the most famous of them all. Snooki is a lovely young lady with a lot of talent. And we had a wonderful interview over the phone yesterday. The following is the transcript of the call.
CU: Thank you for talking with us today, Snooki.
Snooki: Whatever.
CU: You are on the hit MTV show called Jersey Shore. You are one of the fan favorites on the show. What can you tell us about it?
Snooki: Look, I haven't got time to talk about crap like that. I mean, really, I am my own person. Let's talk about me.
CU: Okay. So, you were in court on Wednesday facing a judge over some incident on Seaside Heights Beach. What's up with that?
Snooki: Look, I was drunk and got a little loud. Whadda want from me, F***in' blood?
CU: But come on, tell us if it was a part of the show...
Snooki: Look, f***head, I had a couple of f***in' drinks and I f***ed up. Okay?
CU: So, it wasn't a part of the show?
Snooki: F*** you! Let's talk about me, not that f***in beach s**t, got it?
CU: Okay, fine. So what would you like to tell your fans?
Snooki: Well, I'm really a nice Italian girl and I... Hold on, some f***in' reporters at the f***in' door. (shouting away from the phone) Go the f**k away, you piece of f***in s**t. I'm f***in' busy in here!
CU: Is everything okay?
Snooki: F**k them f***in' reporters. Like they never f***in' f***ed up or anything like that!
CU: We all make mistakes. So, the judge sentenced you to a day of community service and gave you a $500 fine and $33 in court cost. How did you feel afterwards?
Snooki: How the f**k do you think I f***in' feel, a**hole? I had to do f***in' community f***in' service. I was f***in' hangin' out with f***in animals and having to clean their f***in' s**t out of their f***in' cages! F**k a bunch of that f***in' s**t!
CU: One last question. When the judge said you were a Lindsey Lohan wannabe, what went through your mind.
Snooki: F**k that s**t! Lindsey f***in' Lohan can kiss my f***in'...
CU: Well, I know you have a busy schedule and I do thank you for taking the time to speak with us today.
Snooki: What was the name of your newspaper again?
CU: The Curious Urinal. We are an online newspaper.
Snooki: You mean you're not a real f***in' newspaper?
CU: No ma'am.
Snooki: Then f**k you! (the line went dead)
Afterthoughts. Snooki is such an amazingly polite young lady... Once you get past her attitude and potty mouth, that is.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Thursday Sept. 9, 2010
Homeless people PO'd at Fast Food!
McDonald's, America's number one fast food chain has the ever popular $1 menu nationwide. With the current unemployment problem in this country, that value is important to many families on a strict budget.
But in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, there is now a feud over cheap food. It has escalated into a debate on economics and that city's homeless problem.
A McDonald's franchise owner in that neighborhood recently decided to discontinue the $1 menu at her restaurant and start charging an extra 50 cents for each of the items. A price hikes like that might normally be met by grumbles elsewhere, but in bohemian Haight-Ashbury, homeless people are upset, claiming they rely on the dollar deals to survive.
The homeless interviewed by the San Fransisco newspaper suggested it was part of a larger program of unfriendly policies in the city, whose mayor is pushing an anti-loitering ballot measure.
One homeless man named Earl said it best. "Between the taxes that Obama and that bunch of crooks in Washington passes on alcohol and cigarettes, and then this hike on cheeseburgers, how's a homeless man like me supposed to eat, smoke and drink?"
But in Buzzardbait, the homeless problem isn't much of a problem. According to Oliver Closoff, Ammo County Road Commissioner,"There's only one homeless person in all of Ammo County. His name is Earl (a coincidence) and he lives under the Big Seven Bridge over Stinking Creek. The Big Seven Bridge is seven yards long and twenty foot wide, so he has a nice shady spot to sleep in the summer, especially when he is running that A/C unit found in that abandoned trailer a couple of years back. And in the the winter, well, he gathers all of the cardboard he can and makes himself a bunch of walls. Last year, he found a door and a couple of old windows at the dump and fixed the place up real nice. He has a wood floor that is carpeted, a queen-size bed and two 40 watt light bulbs that he uses at night when he's not watching that Plasma screen TV he won in that all-you-can-eat pickled bologna contest last spring."
When we asked about food prices, Mr. Clossoff replied, "I think Earl does pretty well for himself as far as food goes. I know most all of the restaurants toss out wasted food, and they normally box up stuff for him to eat. Over at Felix Plumptushy's Farm, they let him run a couple of extension cords down to the viaduct. He found an old, abandoned refrigerator and a stove, and he has food enough in there for a week at a time. I normally see Milo Days running a case of Dingleberry Wine down his way every couple of weeks, and as far as I know Big Al's Titty Emporium sends a couple of girls down there to pick him up on Saturday nights so he can earn extra money sweeping the puke off of the dance floor. So I think Earl is pretty well set for a homeless guy."
And in sports:
High School Footballs kicks off this Friday when The Buzzardbait Fighting Vultures take on the Poon Point Pixies in a grudge game. If you remember the game last year, the Poon Point team drove into the end zone on a last second touchdown and ruined the Buzzardbait Vultures chance to go to the state finals in Lousyville. Kick-off is at 7 p.m. and parking will be allowed this year on Irvin Tooter's tobacco-flavored cumquat field since he has already harvested his crop.
Also, Aureole Acres Niplets will face-off against the Hardon County Pocket Rockets at 7 p.m. at Hardon County High School's field.
And the game of the week: Hooter Heights takes on Cooter Creek at the Hooter Heights football complex and mud bog. That game starts at 6 p.m. so the mud-boggers can race at 9 p.m.
Homeless people PO'd at Fast Food!
McDonald's, America's number one fast food chain has the ever popular $1 menu nationwide. With the current unemployment problem in this country, that value is important to many families on a strict budget.
But in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, there is now a feud over cheap food. It has escalated into a debate on economics and that city's homeless problem.
A McDonald's franchise owner in that neighborhood recently decided to discontinue the $1 menu at her restaurant and start charging an extra 50 cents for each of the items. A price hikes like that might normally be met by grumbles elsewhere, but in bohemian Haight-Ashbury, homeless people are upset, claiming they rely on the dollar deals to survive.
The homeless interviewed by the San Fransisco newspaper suggested it was part of a larger program of unfriendly policies in the city, whose mayor is pushing an anti-loitering ballot measure.
One homeless man named Earl said it best. "Between the taxes that Obama and that bunch of crooks in Washington passes on alcohol and cigarettes, and then this hike on cheeseburgers, how's a homeless man like me supposed to eat, smoke and drink?"
But in Buzzardbait, the homeless problem isn't much of a problem. According to Oliver Closoff, Ammo County Road Commissioner,"There's only one homeless person in all of Ammo County. His name is Earl (a coincidence) and he lives under the Big Seven Bridge over Stinking Creek. The Big Seven Bridge is seven yards long and twenty foot wide, so he has a nice shady spot to sleep in the summer, especially when he is running that A/C unit found in that abandoned trailer a couple of years back. And in the the winter, well, he gathers all of the cardboard he can and makes himself a bunch of walls. Last year, he found a door and a couple of old windows at the dump and fixed the place up real nice. He has a wood floor that is carpeted, a queen-size bed and two 40 watt light bulbs that he uses at night when he's not watching that Plasma screen TV he won in that all-you-can-eat pickled bologna contest last spring."
When we asked about food prices, Mr. Clossoff replied, "I think Earl does pretty well for himself as far as food goes. I know most all of the restaurants toss out wasted food, and they normally box up stuff for him to eat. Over at Felix Plumptushy's Farm, they let him run a couple of extension cords down to the viaduct. He found an old, abandoned refrigerator and a stove, and he has food enough in there for a week at a time. I normally see Milo Days running a case of Dingleberry Wine down his way every couple of weeks, and as far as I know Big Al's Titty Emporium sends a couple of girls down there to pick him up on Saturday nights so he can earn extra money sweeping the puke off of the dance floor. So I think Earl is pretty well set for a homeless guy."
And in sports:
High School Footballs kicks off this Friday when The Buzzardbait Fighting Vultures take on the Poon Point Pixies in a grudge game. If you remember the game last year, the Poon Point team drove into the end zone on a last second touchdown and ruined the Buzzardbait Vultures chance to go to the state finals in Lousyville. Kick-off is at 7 p.m. and parking will be allowed this year on Irvin Tooter's tobacco-flavored cumquat field since he has already harvested his crop.
Also, Aureole Acres Niplets will face-off against the Hardon County Pocket Rockets at 7 p.m. at Hardon County High School's field.
And the game of the week: Hooter Heights takes on Cooter Creek at the Hooter Heights football complex and mud bog. That game starts at 6 p.m. so the mud-boggers can race at 9 p.m.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Wednesday Sept. 8, 2010
Obama: Economy is on the Upturn!
Washington - President Obama touted the recent economic numbers to bolster his claim that the nation is on a sound road to recovery. "Unemployment is up, meaning more people are in the job market, thus we can raise taxes on everyone making money and give more to those that aren't!"
But a anonymous economics advisor spoke up and refutiated the claim, saying, "This president obviously never passed basic math, much less economics 101. The unemployment rates went up because more people lost their jobs! Thus, you don't raise taxes to insure that more people follow suit."
Local merchant, Lester Horwinkeler of Horwinkler's House of Cheese, commented on the presidents claim. "I'm sitting on three-hundred pounds of moldy cheese because none of my customers can afford it anymore. The president needs to remember that small businesses are the backbone of this nation. The spineless jellyfish in Washington don't have to worry about losing their jobs... At least until November!"
At Least's it's not Jihad... Yet!
JAKARTA, Indonesia — Thousands of Muslims in Indonesia gathered outside of the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta on Saturday to denounce a plan that an American church has to mark the anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks... By burning copies of the Quran.
The Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, has said it will burn the Islamic holy book Wednesday, marking the ninth anniversary of the terror attacks of 9/11. Although local officials have denied a permit for a bonfire on the church's grounds, the center (which made headlines last year by distributing T-shirts that said "Islam is of the Devil") says that it will go ahead with the plan.
Roughly 3,000 members of a hard-line Islamic terrorist group marched to the U.S. Embassy in downtown Jakarta waving banners and posters condemning the plan. The terrorists group also organized similar rallies in five other cities across Indonesia, the world' largest Muslim nation.
One demonstrator said, "Islam is the religion of peace. For these infidel bastards to burn the holy Quran will mean we will butcher millions and behead anyone who defiles Islam. America must die! Israel must die, and all infidels must die so the religion of peace can conquer the world and kill anyone it wants to at anytime!"
Obama: Economy is on the Upturn!
Washington - President Obama touted the recent economic numbers to bolster his claim that the nation is on a sound road to recovery. "Unemployment is up, meaning more people are in the job market, thus we can raise taxes on everyone making money and give more to those that aren't!"
But a anonymous economics advisor spoke up and refutiated the claim, saying, "This president obviously never passed basic math, much less economics 101. The unemployment rates went up because more people lost their jobs! Thus, you don't raise taxes to insure that more people follow suit."
Local merchant, Lester Horwinkeler of Horwinkler's House of Cheese, commented on the presidents claim. "I'm sitting on three-hundred pounds of moldy cheese because none of my customers can afford it anymore. The president needs to remember that small businesses are the backbone of this nation. The spineless jellyfish in Washington don't have to worry about losing their jobs... At least until November!"
At Least's it's not Jihad... Yet!
JAKARTA, Indonesia — Thousands of Muslims in Indonesia gathered outside of the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta on Saturday to denounce a plan that an American church has to mark the anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks... By burning copies of the Quran.
The Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, has said it will burn the Islamic holy book Wednesday, marking the ninth anniversary of the terror attacks of 9/11. Although local officials have denied a permit for a bonfire on the church's grounds, the center (which made headlines last year by distributing T-shirts that said "Islam is of the Devil") says that it will go ahead with the plan.
Roughly 3,000 members of a hard-line Islamic terrorist group marched to the U.S. Embassy in downtown Jakarta waving banners and posters condemning the plan. The terrorists group also organized similar rallies in five other cities across Indonesia, the world' largest Muslim nation.
One demonstrator said, "Islam is the religion of peace. For these infidel bastards to burn the holy Quran will mean we will butcher millions and behead anyone who defiles Islam. America must die! Israel must die, and all infidels must die so the religion of peace can conquer the world and kill anyone it wants to at anytime!"
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Tuesday Sept. 7, 2010
Lindsey Lohan in Hit and Run with Baby Stroller?
Fresh out of jail and rehab, Lindsay Lohan could find herself in more legal trouble.
Two eyewitnesses have alleged to have spotted the 24-year-old pulling her Maserati out of her West Hollywood apartment building, running a red light, making a left turn, and then running straight into a stroller being pushed by a nanny.
“It was full impact, a major hit,” the eyewitness paparazzo claimed, adding that the bumper struck the nanny in the leg as well as the stroller.
But instead of filing a police report, the paparazzo reportedly sold the footage to an online gossip site. Allegedly shot seconds after the incident, it features the baby crying and the nanny “in shock” and continuing to push the stroller.
Another eyewitness also added, "It was great. The car Lindsey Lohan was driving then backed over the woman and the baby stroller, peeled out and sent baby and nanny pieces at least fifty yards. It was like I was watching Death Race 2000... Wait, I was watching Death Race 2000. Wow, I need to stop smoking weed!"
That's not a Tax Audit... This is a Tax Audit!
SYDNEY, Australia – Crocodile Dundee Actor Paul Hogan has been cleared to return home to the United States after he was barred last month from leaving Australia because of a disputed tax bill, his lawyer said Friday.
The 70-year-old Australian-born actor, currently living in Los Angeles, arrived in Sydney on Aug. 20 to attend his mother's funeral. He was served with an Australian Taxation Office order barring him from leaving Australia until he settles a multimillion dollar tax bill, lawyer Andrew Robinson said last week.
He is Currently working on a new movie, which has the working title of: Crocodile Dundee vs. the Australian IRS!
Lindsey Lohan in Hit and Run with Baby Stroller?
Fresh out of jail and rehab, Lindsay Lohan could find herself in more legal trouble.
Two eyewitnesses have alleged to have spotted the 24-year-old pulling her Maserati out of her West Hollywood apartment building, running a red light, making a left turn, and then running straight into a stroller being pushed by a nanny.
“It was full impact, a major hit,” the eyewitness paparazzo claimed, adding that the bumper struck the nanny in the leg as well as the stroller.
But instead of filing a police report, the paparazzo reportedly sold the footage to an online gossip site. Allegedly shot seconds after the incident, it features the baby crying and the nanny “in shock” and continuing to push the stroller.
Another eyewitness also added, "It was great. The car Lindsey Lohan was driving then backed over the woman and the baby stroller, peeled out and sent baby and nanny pieces at least fifty yards. It was like I was watching Death Race 2000... Wait, I was watching Death Race 2000. Wow, I need to stop smoking weed!"
That's not a Tax Audit... This is a Tax Audit!
SYDNEY, Australia – Crocodile Dundee Actor Paul Hogan has been cleared to return home to the United States after he was barred last month from leaving Australia because of a disputed tax bill, his lawyer said Friday.
The 70-year-old Australian-born actor, currently living in Los Angeles, arrived in Sydney on Aug. 20 to attend his mother's funeral. He was served with an Australian Taxation Office order barring him from leaving Australia until he settles a multimillion dollar tax bill, lawyer Andrew Robinson said last week.
He is Currently working on a new movie, which has the working title of: Crocodile Dundee vs. the Australian IRS!
Monday, September 6, 2010
A Special Labor Day Edition of The Curious Urinal
Old vs. Young
(or How to win a No-holds Barred Battle Royal in 12 minutes)
By staff reporter Juan Motyme
The story you're about to read is mostly true... The names haven't been changed to protect anyone.
It was another beautiful evening in downtown Buzzardbait when this reporter took off from his grueling task of reporting the news. It was the last official weekend of summer and I was finally off from work to enjoy the rest of the three-day weekend. The sun was still shining brightly with a few clouds on the horizon. It was the perfect time to head to the Buzzardbait Pool Hall and Bar.
Upon entering, there were only a few patrons, all huddled around their respective beers, listening to Kid Rock doing a duet with Snoop Dog on the juke box. The karaoke machine was broken, thus the night seemed like it held promise. Maybe it would be a quiet, uneventful evening?
And all of that should have been an omen.
A lady friend of mine was already there, shooting pool by herself. I bought two Schitts beers and walked over to the pool table, handing her one and grabbing myself a pool cue. On the TV, some motocross race was underway, with no one paying any attention to it.
After a couple of games, my lady friend motioned toward the door. When I turned around there were six of the ugliest people I have ever laid eyes upon walking into the bar. None of them looked to be over eighteen or nineteen years old. And every one of them sported a variety of tattoos, assorted body piercings and nearly shaved heads. It looked like a bunch of neo-Nazis had walked in the bar.
My lady friend whispered to me, “Looks like the circus is in town, ‘cause the freak show just walked in!”
After being in the bar less than thirty seconds or so, the owner, Phillip Douschbagger, came walking up to them and asked to see ID’s. Of course, none of them happened to have a drivers license, library card, nor anything remotely resembling an ID. Phillip Douschbagger then asked the boys, tattoos, body piercings and all to vacate the premises since they had to be 21 to enter.
The boys left, mumbling about old f**kers, nig*a’s and rednecks. They were obviously a well-mannered bunch of boys. They proceeded to walk outside and piled-up on the trunk of their P.O.S. car and started mouthing off at Butch Hootergripper, one of the newest regulars at the pool hall/bar. He and his wife, Ima (along with Ima's elderly mother), came in the door and immediately informer Phillip Douschbagger of the rowdies in the parking lot.
Now, normally I shy away from fights, but somehow I knew that there was about to be one, and there were six crack-head freakshow’s in the parking lot, and only one Phillip Douschbagger, who was heading out the door to run them off. Needless to say, every man in the building began heading to the door; and I was among them. Damned if I was gonna sit this one out. These kids needed a lesson in manners, and us old men were all going to volunteer to be their teachers.
When the young pencil-neck geeks began filing off the trunk and was in the process of surrounding Phillip Douschbagger, the old men of the bar, myself included, began our advance out of the door (When we came out of the door, two things went through my mind: 1. I might die tonight; and 2. I better pull out my knife and have it handy... Just in case). In the finest military tradition, we marched out to battle, fists doubled-up, pool cues and knives in hand, all ready to take on the enemy.
When the first shove turned into the first punch, I saw one of the little hoodlums heading toward me. I brandished the knife, showing the punk I meant business, and said, “You don’t want any of this!” Apparently he agreed as he wet himself and moved back, away from my position. But another punk, bigger than the first moved toward me. He obviously wasn’t aware that I intended to cut him up into Chicken McNuggets if he got close enough. Instead, he went to Butch Hootergripper (who stood just to my right, behind me), and they began trading punches.
Roscoe Harritung had one of the boys on the ground, sitting on him; all the while connecting his right fist with the boy's nose. In his left hand was a cold Schitts beer, in which he was imbibing every few punches.
Jack Midick and a tall, skinny boy who has a tattoo of a dragon on his neck and three piercing in his bottom lip, were trading punches until Jack decided that it was time to kick the tall boy in the gonads. When the punk doubled over, writhing in agony, Jack proceeded to take his elbow and drive in into the punks back, sending him to his knees. Jack proceeded to kick the boy in the arse several times before feeling sorry for him and knocking him out with a boot to the head.
Meanwhile, Phillip Douschbagger had the punk with black teeth (obviously a crack head), in a head lock and was putting on a show like he was a star in the WWE. He brought the little punker off of his feet several time before body slamming him onto the hood of the car.
Now, before I go any further, there was one of the punklets that seemed to have enough sense to try to get his friends into the car and kept apologizing for the trouble. He was the only one of the group that seemed to not want to fight anyone. I looked at him and said, “You need new friends!”
He nodded his agreement and actually got three of the punks into the car. But the taller, uglier of the bunch decided to be a real man and punch Ima Hootergripper’s mother, Gerlene Tushylumps, in the side of the head. He had picked up a piece of stray pool cue (that laid in the parking lot in three pieces after being broken over the head of black teeth earlier) and waylaid her in the jaw. He was such a real man for doing that; hitting an elderly woman, who was just trying to help her son-in-law out by handing him a broken beer bottle.
Needless to say, Black Teeth, the instigator of the entire ordeal, decided he’d have the last word and picked up a can of cold beer (not Schitts, but one of the national brands) and tried to make a line drive into the back of Phillip Douschbagger's head. I intercepted the thrown beer, spun around and tossed it into the windshield of the car, busting it out. Damn, that felt good!
Finally, the little punklets left, laying a patch of rubber all the way out of the parking lot (Oh, I do remember when my mom and dad bought my tires, too).
Three minutes later, four squad cars of Buzzardbait’s Finest (the Buzzardbait Police Department) arrived. Detective Inspector took statements from all of us, and we gave him a description of the vehicle, the license plate number, and the complete descriptions of the perps in question. Then the police left, in search of the suspects.
The entire ordeal took only twelve minutes. And then, after 45 minutes of police reports, we all re-entered the bar. The fight was over, and I - for one - was damned glad of it. But, for the rest of the evening we all sat around and swapped stories of our individual fights for survival. The testosterone and Schitts beers flowed freely from that point on.
By the time the bar filled-up about an hour later, each new patron was filled-in on the antics of the Old Guys versus the Young Punks. And each of us bragged on the other about our collective heroics in defeating the enemy; all the while being up against superior odds.
When the bar closed-down at midnight, I went home - hoping not to have another night like that again.
We’re all too old for that kind of action!
Or are we?
The moral of this story is: Even though you may be young and full of piss and vinegar, never underestimate the power of some old man with years of experience behind him... Or you might just find yourself on the receiving end of that experience, and years of pent-up frustration.
Youth is truly wasted on the Young!
Old vs. Young
(or How to win a No-holds Barred Battle Royal in 12 minutes)
By staff reporter Juan Motyme
The story you're about to read is mostly true... The names haven't been changed to protect anyone.
It was another beautiful evening in downtown Buzzardbait when this reporter took off from his grueling task of reporting the news. It was the last official weekend of summer and I was finally off from work to enjoy the rest of the three-day weekend. The sun was still shining brightly with a few clouds on the horizon. It was the perfect time to head to the Buzzardbait Pool Hall and Bar.
Upon entering, there were only a few patrons, all huddled around their respective beers, listening to Kid Rock doing a duet with Snoop Dog on the juke box. The karaoke machine was broken, thus the night seemed like it held promise. Maybe it would be a quiet, uneventful evening?
And all of that should have been an omen.
A lady friend of mine was already there, shooting pool by herself. I bought two Schitts beers and walked over to the pool table, handing her one and grabbing myself a pool cue. On the TV, some motocross race was underway, with no one paying any attention to it.
After a couple of games, my lady friend motioned toward the door. When I turned around there were six of the ugliest people I have ever laid eyes upon walking into the bar. None of them looked to be over eighteen or nineteen years old. And every one of them sported a variety of tattoos, assorted body piercings and nearly shaved heads. It looked like a bunch of neo-Nazis had walked in the bar.
My lady friend whispered to me, “Looks like the circus is in town, ‘cause the freak show just walked in!”
After being in the bar less than thirty seconds or so, the owner, Phillip Douschbagger, came walking up to them and asked to see ID’s. Of course, none of them happened to have a drivers license, library card, nor anything remotely resembling an ID. Phillip Douschbagger then asked the boys, tattoos, body piercings and all to vacate the premises since they had to be 21 to enter.
The boys left, mumbling about old f**kers, nig*a’s and rednecks. They were obviously a well-mannered bunch of boys. They proceeded to walk outside and piled-up on the trunk of their P.O.S. car and started mouthing off at Butch Hootergripper, one of the newest regulars at the pool hall/bar. He and his wife, Ima (along with Ima's elderly mother), came in the door and immediately informer Phillip Douschbagger of the rowdies in the parking lot.
Now, normally I shy away from fights, but somehow I knew that there was about to be one, and there were six crack-head freakshow’s in the parking lot, and only one Phillip Douschbagger, who was heading out the door to run them off. Needless to say, every man in the building began heading to the door; and I was among them. Damned if I was gonna sit this one out. These kids needed a lesson in manners, and us old men were all going to volunteer to be their teachers.
When the young pencil-neck geeks began filing off the trunk and was in the process of surrounding Phillip Douschbagger, the old men of the bar, myself included, began our advance out of the door (When we came out of the door, two things went through my mind: 1. I might die tonight; and 2. I better pull out my knife and have it handy... Just in case). In the finest military tradition, we marched out to battle, fists doubled-up, pool cues and knives in hand, all ready to take on the enemy.
When the first shove turned into the first punch, I saw one of the little hoodlums heading toward me. I brandished the knife, showing the punk I meant business, and said, “You don’t want any of this!” Apparently he agreed as he wet himself and moved back, away from my position. But another punk, bigger than the first moved toward me. He obviously wasn’t aware that I intended to cut him up into Chicken McNuggets if he got close enough. Instead, he went to Butch Hootergripper (who stood just to my right, behind me), and they began trading punches.
Roscoe Harritung had one of the boys on the ground, sitting on him; all the while connecting his right fist with the boy's nose. In his left hand was a cold Schitts beer, in which he was imbibing every few punches.
Jack Midick and a tall, skinny boy who has a tattoo of a dragon on his neck and three piercing in his bottom lip, were trading punches until Jack decided that it was time to kick the tall boy in the gonads. When the punk doubled over, writhing in agony, Jack proceeded to take his elbow and drive in into the punks back, sending him to his knees. Jack proceeded to kick the boy in the arse several times before feeling sorry for him and knocking him out with a boot to the head.
Meanwhile, Phillip Douschbagger had the punk with black teeth (obviously a crack head), in a head lock and was putting on a show like he was a star in the WWE. He brought the little punker off of his feet several time before body slamming him onto the hood of the car.
Now, before I go any further, there was one of the punklets that seemed to have enough sense to try to get his friends into the car and kept apologizing for the trouble. He was the only one of the group that seemed to not want to fight anyone. I looked at him and said, “You need new friends!”
He nodded his agreement and actually got three of the punks into the car. But the taller, uglier of the bunch decided to be a real man and punch Ima Hootergripper’s mother, Gerlene Tushylumps, in the side of the head. He had picked up a piece of stray pool cue (that laid in the parking lot in three pieces after being broken over the head of black teeth earlier) and waylaid her in the jaw. He was such a real man for doing that; hitting an elderly woman, who was just trying to help her son-in-law out by handing him a broken beer bottle.
Needless to say, Black Teeth, the instigator of the entire ordeal, decided he’d have the last word and picked up a can of cold beer (not Schitts, but one of the national brands) and tried to make a line drive into the back of Phillip Douschbagger's head. I intercepted the thrown beer, spun around and tossed it into the windshield of the car, busting it out. Damn, that felt good!
Finally, the little punklets left, laying a patch of rubber all the way out of the parking lot (Oh, I do remember when my mom and dad bought my tires, too).
Three minutes later, four squad cars of Buzzardbait’s Finest (the Buzzardbait Police Department) arrived. Detective Inspector took statements from all of us, and we gave him a description of the vehicle, the license plate number, and the complete descriptions of the perps in question. Then the police left, in search of the suspects.
The entire ordeal took only twelve minutes. And then, after 45 minutes of police reports, we all re-entered the bar. The fight was over, and I - for one - was damned glad of it. But, for the rest of the evening we all sat around and swapped stories of our individual fights for survival. The testosterone and Schitts beers flowed freely from that point on.
By the time the bar filled-up about an hour later, each new patron was filled-in on the antics of the Old Guys versus the Young Punks. And each of us bragged on the other about our collective heroics in defeating the enemy; all the while being up against superior odds.
When the bar closed-down at midnight, I went home - hoping not to have another night like that again.
We’re all too old for that kind of action!
Or are we?
The moral of this story is: Even though you may be young and full of piss and vinegar, never underestimate the power of some old man with years of experience behind him... Or you might just find yourself on the receiving end of that experience, and years of pent-up frustration.
Youth is truly wasted on the Young!
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