Talk about being at the right place at the wrong time. A lady friend and I decided to stop in for Karaoke Night at the Buzzardbait Pool Hall and Pub. Seeing most every Saturday night is a busy night there, we decided to play a few games of pool and then we'd vacate the place before the singing got really awful. As we walked inside the place, we took note that it was a packed house. At least thirty or so patrons were huddled around the bar, seated at the tables, or just passing the time shooting some pool and taking in the karaoke singing (some people actually enjoy that). Of course, all of them were drinking beer. A typical Saturday night in Buzzardbait.
Saturday Night Karaoke is a weekly event that's sponsored by Schitts Beer (locally brewed and bottled). It's usually a fun time. There you'll find drunk men in ball caps, dancing with themselves as they urinate in their grease-covered jeans. And then there are the drunk women, dressed in their finest tee shirts or tube tops, getting up in front of the drunken crowd, singing (or attempting to anyway) in hopes of getting one of the dancing drunk, piss-soaked men to notice them.
Every week since it started, the contest has been won by Thelma Buktoof of Poon Point. She's actually a decent singer, especially when the crowd is drunk. Thelma normally gives a great rendition of Tammy Whynott's 'Slip It Past Your Man' or Loretta Lenski's 'Don't Come Home A Drinkin' With Tuna On Your Breath.' But this past Saturday night, her choice of songs left the crowd a teensy bit bewildered. She chose to sing a 'Stung' song from the Cops last album, Zenbutta Yo Mudda, entitled: 'I'll Be Stalking You!'
The song itself wasn't too bad, but since Mrs. Buktoof has deeply inset bug eyes, she resembled a rabid squirrel in heat as she sang. It was obvious that her vocal talents were not up to snuff that night, as her voice was ravaged by drinking too many Schitts beers and chain-smoking non-filtered Lucky's. As the song went on, several of the drunk men began projectile vomiting on the dance floor. If that wasn't bad enough, the women began throwing beer bottles toward the chicken wire partition (ala the first Blues Brothers Movie).
Aside for having to dodge some stray glass and the occasional corn-chunks, my friend and I continued playing some 9 ball, all the while trying to ignore the ruckus. The sickening sweet aroma of regurgitated beer and pork rinds would knock a buzzard off a shit wagon, but since my allergies were acting up, it didn't bother me as much as you'd think.
The bottle tossing soon turned into boos and hisses from the women... And that was when the real trouble started. A fight quickly ensued.
Phillip Douschbagger, the owner of the Buzzardbait Pool Hall portion of the business, was hunched over the counter, vomiting violently as the melee began. That was when his wife, Vickie Douschbagger (owner of the pub side of the business) decided to repeatedly hit him in the head with a broken Schitts Beer bottle (I'm not sure if it was broken when she started hitting him, but it was thereafter). Phillips sister, Debbie, saw this and came to her brother's rescue. She took a pool cue and rammed it up her sister-in-laws rectum (Vickie Douschbagger was dressed in a short skirt at the time) as she was bent over her husband (now heaped on the floor in a puddle of his own bile). Up until then,Vickie had been screaming at her husband about his affair with Erma Clappgiver. Ms. Clappgiver was, at that exact moment, across the room... Beating another woman in the head with a chair. Due to the amount of blood on the woman's face, I did not recognize her at first. It was later that I realized it was Vonda Lukatmytush, a first grade teacher at Buzzardbait Elementary School.
Meanwhile, Ivana Jercoff (Operations Manager of the Buzzardbait Zoo), who had just finished her turn at the mic minutes before (and who sang a pretty decent rendition of Georgie Johansen's song 'The Trouble With You Is You Suck!') was being assaulted by Emily Closoff, the wife of County Road Commissioner, Oliver Closoff. She was accusing Ms. Jercoff of having an affair with her husband. In the meantime, Oliver Closoff was being cornered by Jack Midick, who accused him of having an affair with Mrs, Midick, also known as Tangy Thunderthighs, a dancer at Big Al's Titty Emporium.
By this time, my friend and I were looking at the various fights and wondering if we should leave and not pay the bill, or just sit quietly by and have another beer while continuing to dodge pool cues, beer mugs and the occasional ash tray (that were being tossed wildly across the room). We chose to stay. Where was the fun in leaving all of this entertainment? I suggested to my friend that I'd go get us another round and I somehow managed to cross the room, reach into the beer cooler and grabbed a couple of cold Schitts beers. When I returned to my friend, she had some woman in a headlock, punching her in the face repeatedly. Needless to say, I sat in a chair and held onto her beer while I drank mine.
It wasn't thirty seconds later when I spotted Roscoe Harritung heading toward me. Apparently he saw that I was the only person not involved in the melee and came toward me with a mic stand. I suppose he was feeling left out, or thought that I was (I'm not sure which). As he approached me, I guzzled the rest of my beer and broke the bottle on the side of a nearby pool table. As I ducked the oncoming mic stand he had just swung at my head, I jammed the broken bottle into his groin. This made him drop the mic stand and grab himself (much like Michael Jackson's famous crotch grab at the Motown Awards). Only the sound coming from Mr. Harritung was not like the sound that Mr. Jackson would have made (Ohhh whooo). It was more like the sound a humpback whale makes when harpooned in the gonads (Aroooooooooo).
Seeing how my friend was now banging the woman's head against the concrete block wall, I sat back in my chair and open the second beer and enjoyed its smooth, mellow taste.
By this time, there were at least fifteen different fights taking place inside the pub and pool hall. The green felt on several of the pool tables were now covered with bodies, blood and/or vomit. I decided that I had seen enough and called 911 to complain that I couldn't play pool due to all the fighting going on. The police dispatcher told me that she'd have someone there before long. After that call, I made a call to order a pizza from Papa Fred's Pizzeria and Nail Salon, located down on 4th and Main in beautiful downtown Buzzardbait. Believe me, they have the best greasy pizza this side of Hooter Heights!
The driver was there in less than fifteen minutes and I met him at the door. Paying the delivery guy (with a dollar tip to boot), I found a nice secluded spot and ate my pepperoni and banana pepper pizza while my friend was using a pool rack to beat another woman in the head. I turned my attention then to some guy across the room (his yelling compelled me to do so). He was getting his ass kicked by two different women. One was kicking his ass for apparently vomiting on her shoes while the other woman whipped him in the head for no apparent reason.
Thirty minutes later the Buzzardbait Police finally arrived. But by this time, most of the pool hall patrons had spilled-out into the parking lot; many brandishing pool cues and billiard balls. They were fighting one another in a display of carnage not seen since the World Wrestling Corporation's (WWC) Imgwotta 'Big' Johnson bungholed Henry 'The Giant Midget' Hernandez in a cage match that ended in a draw and a same-sex marriage.
The thirty or so patrons of the pool hall were rounded-up and transported to the Buzzardbait Jail and Lawn Center to await their bail hearing. Detective Inspector of the Buzzardbait Police told me that none of the patrons involved in the melee would spend more that a day in jail before their bails would be set. “Judge Hugh Harshly will make justice move swiftly and bring much needed revenue to the city in the process!” Detective Inspector told me.
After that, I drove home and went to bed with a full belly and a buzz from the Schitts Beers. When I woke up Sunday morning, I drove to the Buzzardbait Jail and Massage Parlor, where I arranged bail for my friend and got her out of there. Since she never got to have any pizza the night before, I took her to Greasy Louie's House of Mostly Pancakes for breakfast (If you ever go there, try the triple-stack Chocolate Chip and Pancreas Pieces Pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream... Yummy!).
When my friend asked me how I came up with the bail money so fast, I told her that since Detective Inspector happened to be my neighbor, he cut me a deal on her bail. I now have to mow is lawn twice and also wax his car. Additionally, I informed her that she would not be going before the judge. Judge Hugh Harshly is also a neighbor, and he owed me a favor. A few weeks ago I told his wife that he was in a meeting when he was actually meeting some woman from Pooter Park concerning... Anyway, now we're even.
When I finally asked my friend why she had gotten into a fight in the first place, she said the woman had called her a “Farmtown Ho!” Well, I suppose that's a good enough reason.
Well, that's the story.
Oh. I almost forgot... As for Thelma Buktoof, she is being charged with inciting a riot - a felony - and will be held in Buzzardbait Jail and Lawn Center until her court case comes up sometime next June.
As for Karaoke Night at the Buzzardbait Pool Hall and Pub, well it will never be the same again.
P.S. I have just found out that 'I'll Be Stalking You!' will no longer be on the play list for karaoke night at the Buzzardbait Pool Hall and Pub.
