Bar – f-your blog

Electric Wizard

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring The Animated Series THE ELECTRIC WIZARD by Eoin O’ Kane (Aka eoin O kane Which is not the Most Original User Name). Now it was fucking Fustrating as a True Motherfucker Attempting to find ANY fucking Information on Eoin O’ Kane. The Main Problem is when We Searched for Eoin O’ Kane We got Bombarded by Bullshit for Some Shrink named fucking Owen O’Kane. Almost EVERYTHING on Eoin Directs You Directly to Their Youtube Channel, But No Other fucking Social Media Platform. Now We did Locate a Linkedlen for a Person named Eoin O’Kane which just Simply didn’t Add up Compared to the Youtube Channel.

Now on the Topic of the eoin O kane Youtube Channel the Channel’s Stats are as Follows. The Channel has a Minuscule 1.48k Subscribers,, a Total of 13 Videos, has 46,625 Views, and Joined Youtube on November 5, 2018.

Plot: The Animated Short featuring THE ELECTRIC WIZARD and THE COSMIC SHREDDER as They Venture Forward to Their New Favorite Drinking Hole, “THE LAIR OF THE GOLDEN KING”, Only to Find that They have been Banned for Their previous Shenanigans.

Plot: THE ELECTRIC WIZARD and the COSMIC SHREDDER decide to have a Relaxing Day Out at Their local Theme Park, “THRASHWORLD”. The WIZARD immediately falls in Love with the Sheer Brutality and Pure Metalness of the Park. However, Their Fun is spoiled when the Owner of the Theme Park, THE GOD OF THRASH, is informed that He has Lost His Title as the MOST BRUTAL BEING IN ALL THE LAND. Thrown into a Fit of Rage THE GOD OF THRASH is Out for THE ELECTRIC WIZARD’S Head.

Plot: Upon returning the Prism of Insight to its Rightful Owner, Zeflon, the Most Intelligent Being in all the Universe, THE WIZARD and THE COSMIC SHREDDER ask for Directions to the Nearest Pub. Zeflon obliges, However , Things Don’t Go as Planned.

THE ELECTRIC WIZARD – Episode 4 Plot: THE ELECTRIC WIZARD and THE COSMIC SHREDDER encounter an Evil Cult on the Infamous Doom Mountain. THE ELECTRIC WIZARD decides to put a Stop to the Cult’s Nefarious Plan of pulling in a Meteor from Deep Space and Smashing it into the Planet when He realizes His Beloved Whisky Factory is in the Firing Line.

It Is What it Is,

Presented By Les Sober

Crazy People, Campgrounds, and A Crappy Concert

Now I had mentioned in a Recent Post that My Wife and I are in the Habit of Frequenting Our Local Bar called Timeout Tavern. Over Time as One might Imagine We started to meet some of the Local Characters from Our Town as well as the Neighboring Town. One of those Characters is a Man of Few Words who goes by Dee Dee who’ve We seen at the Bar Numerous times before. Well on this particular Thursday (Normally We head to Timeout on Fridays, but this Thursday was My Wife’s Birthday) We just so Happened to Sit at an Open Spot at the Bar that was next to Dee Dee who had been there for some time already.

Dee Dee as far as Dee Dee is concerned was in His Version of a Talkative Mood. This meant We would sit Next to One Another drinking in Silence until periodically Dee Dee would Lean over slightly in Our direction, and then proceed to have talk about whatever topic was on His Mind. These Mini conversations lasted just a few Sentences before Dee Dee would fall Silent once again. At one Point later in the Evening Dee Dee had Invited Us to Join Him on Saturday for Some Event or What Not. Finally Dee Dee decided He was Drunk Enough (and I’m not Talking Shit since He was Visibly Intoxicated, and in all Due Favor so was My Wife and I) and Decided to Head Out. Not Long after Dee Dee’s Departure My Wife and I also Opted to Call it a Night and went Home to Hangout with Our Pack of Dogs.

Friday came and went uneventfully and come Saturday Morning My Wife and I had a Bit of an Issue. The Issue was Due to the Fact all Three of Us (Dee Dee included) were so Drunk that My Wife and I couldn’t Remember what the fuck We had agreed to Thursday Night. So We started Playing the Drunken Memory Puzzle Game slowly Remembering Detail after Detail as We tried to Piece it all together. By 1:30 in the Afternoon We had managed though it was quite a Struggle to Assemble the Pieces of the Puzzle in a Coherent Narrative. What We Deduced was Dee Dee, who Actually lives in the Previously Mentioned Neighboring Town, had Rented a RV Site at Cooper’s Campground which was an Extremely Large local Campground. Dee Dee had invited Us to Stop by His Campsite around 4pm to Tailgate before a Local Band Played a Show at the Campground.

Even After We recounted Thursday Nights Conversation We still had a Number of Problems. First being the Most Obvious was Dee Dee never told Us what the Actual Number of His Campsite was. He Only mentioned that We should Enter the Camp Ground, make a Left, and keep Driving until We saw the Campground Laundry Building. Apparently His Campsite was in the Vicinity of said Laundry. Also Around Here its a Bit Old School because when I asked Dee Dee for His Cell Number so We could Orchestrate Saturday’s Plan He simple Replied “Why? If You come then I’ll just See You There.” which is about as Useful as a Car without an Engine. Also We had No Idea where in the Massive RV Park/Campground the Concert Venue was since We had Never been there Before. I decided the Best Idea was to say fuck 4 O’clock since the Concert was the Main Focus of the Nights Events, and again We had No Real Information on How to Locate Dee Dee or Call or Text Him either. I thought We should Head to the Campsite to get a Literals Lay of the Land so We’d know what the fuck We were getting Ourselves into.

We headed over to the Campground around 5pm or so and Once We arrived We drove through a Small Neighborhoods Worth of RV’s, RV Parking Sites, and Actual Campers in Tents. Then We reached the Main Campground Gate where there were to Humongous Signs Posted Relaying the Basic Rules and Policies of the Park which were Extensive to say the Least. What Pissed ME off at that Moment was the Fact the Campground Charged People who weren’t Current Campers (aka Customers) $5 Per Person to Enter. I though how if I was a Friend or Family Member Visiting How I’d be even More Pissed Off I’d be about the Gate Toll. All I’m saying is You visit someone in a Hotel, Motel, or Air B&B You don’t have to Pay some Bizarre and Bullshit Cover Charge just for Visiting. Anyway We made a U Turn and went back Home considering We didn’t really want to Hangout in a fucking RV Park/ Campground for several Hours Before the Show.

Once We arrived Home My Wife Hit Up the Campground Website for Details since We had Not been able to Scout Out the Location. My Wife confirmed First and Foremost that there was indeed a Concert that Night, and pulled up Some Picture of Where the Show would be Held. The Picture was unassuming as fuck as it was just a Picture of a Large Field on the Water Front. My Wife and I figured that because the Venue was a Campground that They would Erect a Small Stage for the Band to Play on. We assumed then that People Who came Would Bring Blankets or Beach Chairs to Sit On while the Band was On Stage Preforming. We figured We would need some Show Supplies so We went Out and Bought a couple of Cheap Beach Chairs, 3 Bags of Ice, A Cooler, and of Course a Case of Budweiser. Outside the Store We Filled the Cooler with the Ice and Stocked it with the Budweiser before departing. We Drove on Over to the Campsite since it was Now Quarter to Seven and the Show was Billed to Start at 8pm.

Once We Arrived We discovered the Gate Attendant had Left so We were Referred by a Shitty Handwritten Note (Scrawled on a Scrap Piece of Paper Taped to the Window of the Camp Connivence Store which Doubled as the Gate House) to the Two Monolithic Signs Posted on Either Side of the Gate. We ended up having to Fill Out this Basic Form with Our Name, Address, and Vehicle License Plate Number. We then Drove Through the Gate then there was a Beat Up Old Metal Lock Box on Passenger Side which We deposited the Form along with the $10 Entrance Fee. This Pissed ME off because its a fucking Campground so Why the fuck are They charging $5 per Person just to Enter? Who or What the fuck do They think They Are some Trendy fucking Nightclub or Some Shit? I dunno but I digress.

20 Feet into the Park and I’m already Stressed Out by the Absolute Clustfuck Labyrinth Arrangement of the RVs/Campsites. Instead of using the Traditional Tried and True Lay Out in a Grid Pattern with Neat Rows of RVs/Campsites with Adequate Streets running Between the Rows. This Campground looked as if the Owner had Squeezed every last Camper/RV/Campsite They could onto the Property to Maximize Their Profits. This created a Chaotically Disorganized Landscape of Oddly Angled Cramped RVs/Campsites that were packed so Close Together that if You stepped out Your Door You’d be a approximately 2 Feet From Your Neighbor. Privacy seemed to be Totally Non Existent, and that would Definitely Drive Me fucking Insane as I relish My Privacy.

To make Shit even More Nerve Racking there was a Main Road and I use that word Loosely that ran Around the Entire Perimeter of the Park. If You actually wanted to Access Anything in the Park You had to Navigate a the Maze of Haphazardly Placed RVs/Campsites using a Cramped Network of Streets that in Reality were Glorified Dirt Paths wide Enough for a Single Golf Cart to Drive on. One Thing We noted was to further Aggravate Me and the Situation Itself was There was the Utter and Total Lack of Signage so We had No fucking Clue where We were or Where We were fucking going. Meanwhile as We drove at a Whopping 3 Miles an Hour since I Drive A Half Ton Dodge Ram 1500 Pick Up Truck, and since Whoever Designed the Campground had Miserable Concept of Spacial Recognition ever Where We went was the Definition of a Tight fucking Fit. The Campground Layout was Completely fucking Random, but there were Other Exacerbating Factors We had to Content with.

The First Issue was there was a Ton fuck of People there were Walkers, Joggers, Men, Women, Kids, Senior Citizens, and Pets Milling around. Now with all of the Randomly Placed RVs/Campsites all I could think was “Holy Shit this is a fucking reciepy for a fucking Disaster. The Whole Time at any Second I expected Someone or Something to Walkout into the Street without even considering They could be Hit/Run Over by My Big Ass Truck. Then there were the goddamn Golf Carts that were all over the Place, and Who’s Occupants were Annoyed They were Forced to Pull off to the Side of the “Road” to make Room for My Big Goddamn Truck. That and Every Golf Cart seemed to be Driven by an Oblivious Idiot (Most were Deep into a Day Drinking Drunk as at Least 1 of Every 3 People I saw were Holding Beers) who had the Attention Span of a fucking Goldfish. The Day Drinking Drunks weren’t just Idly Driving around in Golf Carts They seemed to make Up a Majority of the People Staying at the Campground. Again All I could think is that One of These Dipshit Drunks would Stumble or Fall Flat on Their Face in the Road and End Up being Run the fuck Over (and more than Likely Killed).

There was one thing Though that I did find Fascinating and that was that the Campground was Over Run with Rabbits. I’m Not talking the Normal Wild American Rabbit Species You’re accustomed to seeing Oh No these were Some Breed of Domesticated Rabbits. They came in a Variety of Colors, Pure Black, Black and White, Tan, Brown, Tan with Brown Markings Etc., and these fuckers were so goddamn Big You could have Picked One Up and Cradled it like a fucking Baby. No One in the Park in the Campground even Acknowledged the Rabbits Presence Though They were Everywhere. The Rabbits were Laying in the Road, Running Between or Under RVs, Hanging Out in Small Groups on Spontaneous Grassy Plots located around the Park.

The Other Weird thing was I had never Heard about the Campground Rabbits and I’m a Local. Usually when Places have an Unusual Oddity such as these Rabbits the Business uses it as a Promotional Tool to Cash in on the Eccentricity, but Apparently Not in this Case. I even Hit Up Ye Old Internet the Next Day to see if I could find any Information on these Mysterious Rabbits. While there were Slews of Reviews that all Mentioned or at Least Alluded to the Rabbits but that was All. I posted on one of the sites asking if Anyone Knew the Origin Story behind the Rabbits, Yet Unfortunately I fucking Forgot the Specific Website (and was Unable to Locate it at a Later Date). I figure Especially being in the Country that these Rabbits had been Kept for as Show Rabbits, Raised as Farm Rabbits, Raised for Food, or Possible as Pets. As these things Go I believe some of the Rabbits Escaped and spawned a Full Blown Breeding Rabbit Population. I still am curious as fuck to Know the Exact Details and will Keep Seeking Out Any and All Information Pertaining to the Campground Rabbits.

After Roaming around this Campsite Hellscape We rather quickly came to the Conclusion that We would just Head to the Show Venue (wherever the hell it was) because Meeting Up with Dee Dee was a Virtual Impossibility. We continued to Drive meandering to and fro until Thank fucking Christ We found the Venue sheerly by Chance. We pulled into the Grass Parking Lot, and I immediately Noticed things were Not as We had Anticipated Not in the Least. When We Pulled into the Lot We saw a Large Cinder Block Building Painted a Nauseating Shade of Pink. I assume the Building originally was a Garage for Maintenance/Groundkeepers Lawn Mowers and other Tools of the Trade. I thought this because there was a rather Large Garage Door that was wide Open and We could See (and Hear) the Band doing Their Soundcheck. Now it was 7:40 pm and the Show was set to Start at 8pm on the Dot, But the One thing We didn’t See was Anyone Else. The Parking Lot with the Acceptation of My Wife and I was Completely Empty there wasn’t a Single Person to be Seen.

Eventually a Small Handful of Campground Campers trickled in on Their Golf Carts. We Spoke with a Man familiar with the Campground and asked what the fuck was the Deal since We had Obviously made the wrong assumption with the whole Tail Gating thing. He informed Us that there wasn’t any Tail Gating and the Campground Owners would Toss You out and Ban You for Life if They Caught You. I’ll be fucking Damned if I get thrown out of a fucking Campground that’s for Sure. Then He informs Us that They do Sell Beer there accept its Cheap Shitty Beer in Clear Plastic BBQ Cups all White Trash and shit. I am a Beer Lover but after already Buying a Case of Good Beer sure as Hell didn’t want to have to Sell Out more Cash especially for Horse Piss Beer. Lastly the Man Mentioned there was a goddamn Cover Charge in Addition to the $10 Park Admittance Fee. This Seriously Chapped My Ass I mean I paid $10 already just to get into this Hellhole 3 Ring Shit Show of a Campground, and the Idea of having to Pay a Cover well Fuck and That.

At 8:15 pm I decided it was time to Re-Evaluate the Situation. Since I tend to be Anti Social and Standoffish so I felt I had to Lawyer My Point. I pointed out that Perhaps making Plans Late at Night at the Bar while Drunk wasn’t the Optimal Scenario for making Plans. Also We didn’t have Dee Dee’s Phone Number or Campsite Number and We didn’t even have a Clue where the Laundry was (which if You remember was Our one and only Reference Point). I then Proceeded to Point Out the Fact it was a Lame Local Bar Band so it wasn’t Worth it Literally and Figuratively. I added to that its a really bad sign when You show up for a Concert Twenty Minutes before the Show Starts and there is No One There. I made sure to point out that the Few People who Finally Showed Were Campers Not Locals, and if We wanted to get to Know More People talking to Vacationing Campers was a Waste of fucking Time. My Wife being the Optimist suggested We wait a Little Longer before Leaving just to See if Things Picked Up and being the Pessimist I reluctantly Agreed. At 8:30 pm My Wife Agreed with Me that it was Time to Throw in the Towel and Call it Quits.

In the End We left the Campground and Drove over to Our Favorite Watering Whole Timeout Tavern and Proceeded to have a Ultimately Awesome Evening. I have yet to see Dee Dee again but I’m sure I will in Time, and When I do I can’t wait to ask Him What The Fuck the Whole Ordeal was About. Until then it was a Intensely Bizarre Adventure and at Least it makes for an Interesting fucking Story.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober

The Deviant Detective #7 Von Dire or Be Damned

“Like You Detective,” Otto continued,”I have little time to spare so Time is of the Essence in this matter You see. I will leave You with all the Intel You will need to Start Your Hunt, and Detective Please remember above all Discretion is Vitally Important while Dealing with as well as Resolving this Issue at Hand.”

With that said Otto drained His Drink in one Large Sip, Stood Up Quickly, and Handed Rock a Manilla Envelope He had retrieved from His Coat Pocket before Abruptly Leaving. Although Rock appreciated Ott’s Candor He still was a Little Taken a back about How suddenly the Conversation Ended. Rock Tossed the Envelope onto the Bar in front of Him with the enthusiasm of a Man who was just Served Divorce Papers. He flagged Manny down for another refill before lighting a Cigarette, and Exhaling Deeply a Token Sign of a Tired Soul. As Rock was leisurely putting out His Cigarette He noticed in His Peripheral Vision someone sitting down next to Him. Exhausted but still curious Rock slowly and deliberately turned to face the Person who had taken up Residence on the neighboring Bar Stool.

There sitting Next to Rock was a Petite Young Girl with Shiny Jet Black Hair and Piercingly Green Eyes who looked to be 20 years Rock’s Junior. Rock couldn’t Help noticing the Girl given the Circumstances in a Old Man Dive Bar She stuck out like a sore fucking Thumb that’s was for sure. Even Manny who usually was infallible seemed enamored by the Young Girl He was fumbling and bubbling the Bottles of Booze He was inventorying. Rock found Himself wondering How this Girl ended up at Old McCoy’s when She should be at some Generic Sports Bar with a bunch of Annoyingly Loud Girlfriends and Their Dumbfuck Frat Loving Jock Boyfriends.

The Girl picked a Pretzel from the Bowl that was sitting next to Rock’s empty Shot Glass and Mulled it over in Her fingers as if in Deep Contemplation. Rock started to think of various reasons the Girl might have picked such an Out of the Way Hole in the Wall Like Old McCoy’s. More than likely Rock thought She was simply hiding from Someone like an Asshole Ex-Boyfriend or Perhaps She was hiding from the World in General. Before Rock had time to consider another possibilities the Young Girl became to Speak.

” Don’t think I was being Rude or that I’m a inconsiderate Asshole, but I couldn’t Help over Hearing Your conversation earlier with that Stiff and Stern looking Investment Banker looking motherfucker.” said the Girl without looking up from the Pretzel in Her Hand.

“COuldn’t Help? What the fuck does that even mean, it’s just a bullshit excuse People use so hopefully the Person They were ease dropping on Doesn’t haul off and Hit Them,” criticized Rock with Angry Frustration, “You eased dropped on My conversation because Your Nosey and wanted to Hear what We were saying. My Point is is wasn’t a fucking accident or freak fucking occurrence. You deliberately decided to Listen in plain and fucking simple that’s the way I See it.”

“That aside if You’re going Hunting for Someone on The Dark Web The Old Fart was right Your going to need somebody with some serious Tech Skills. Anyone can use the Dark Web, but finding someone takes a shit ton more Know How than the Basics.,” the Girl said completely ignoring Rock’s harsh criticism, “Like You said Anonymity is Key and lets face it the Dark Web is the New fucking Alaska for motherfuckers who Do Not want to be Found.”

“Look I’ve had one hell of a fucking Day so I assume this is where You tell Me why You’re That Person.” muttered Rock into His Beer Glass.

“Have You ever Heard of the Hacker Known as VonDire?” asked The yOung Girl Slightly with a smirk.

Now Rock may not have been the most Technically inept person on the Planet but that didn’t mean He was in the Dark by any Means. Rock had in fact heard of VonDire who had been the Center of Several Big Tech Hacking News Stories over the last Year or So. Aside from the List of Litanies the Media like everyone else had No Idea or Actual Information pertaining to Who VonDire was. The News had Reported a Variety of Allegations such as VonDire was a Member of the Hacktivist Group Anonymous until getting Kicked Out of the Organization for Conflict of Ideology. They had Reported VonDire was an Ex-Military Anti-Government Radical, a Anarchistic Tech Terrorist who Lived Only to create Chaos through Destruction. There were News Stories Alleging VonDire was the Illegitimate Love Child of Dark Web’s Silk Road Founder Ross Ulbricht (aka Dread Pirate Roberts) and an Infamous Drug Cartel’s Mistress, and that VonDire was a Hackers Version of Robin Hood targeting Corrupt Corporations and Billionaire Bastards.

It was all Here say because if Any One Knew who VonDire was or How to Track Him/Her Down it would have already happened, and been blasted across the Media Platforms like wild fucking fire. This Meant VonDire is as much of a Mystery as They were From Day One. Not to mention Rock wasn’t a Blithering Idiot or a Drunken Fool so He was well aware that the Shit People Say in Bar’s is simply that Shit People Say in Bars. Rock wasn’t impressed by the Name Drop and He sure as Hell didn’t have a single reason whatsoever to believe that this Attractive and Petite Thing sitting Neck to Him was a Wanted International Hacker. Seriously Rock thought to Himself was He supposed to Believe this Pretty Little Thing sitting Next to Him was the One who had been wreaking Havoc on a Global Level that’s fucking Certain.

“Look You don’t have to believe Me its doesn’t Chap My Ass in the Least,” replied the Young Lady,”It’s obvious by the Scowl plastered across Your well worn face You Don’t, but not only that You Don’t care either. What You Should Care about is the Man Your considering Working For Mr. Otto Van de Berg.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” demanded Rock gruffly as He grew tired of Talking to People when He had come to the Bar to Drink Alone.

“Well I’ll keep it sort at least for now since I’m aware Your Time is Precious,” countered The Young Lady, “The Van de Bergs Aren’t Angels They’re Devils. In Reality The Van de Berg’s are some of the Evilest, and most Revoltingly Vile Pieces of Shit to have ever been Regurgitated up from The Bowels of Hell.The Van de Bergs have amassed a Fortune since the Early 20th Century in Oil and Railroads. In the Beginning The Van de Bergs indulged in White Collar Crimes like Fraud, Tax Evasion, Insider Trading, Ponzi Schemes, Embezzlement, Wage Theft, Bribery, Labor Racketeering, Forgery, Copyright Infringement, Cybercrime, Identity Theft, and Money Laundering. The Whole Nine Illegal Yards as it were You see Greed is One of the Biggest and Dangerous Motivators of Man.”

“So They’re Wealthy Elitist Assholes, The Sons of Bitches of Bureaucracy Out to Finically Rape the World’s Riches on the Broken Backs of the Common Man.”commented Rock almost under His Breath.

“The Story Doesn’t Stop There Oh No the Van de Bergs started to Expand Their Criminal Repertoire first with Gambling and Loan Sharking. Next the Van de Berg’s branched Out into Arms Dealing followed by Them Entering the Drug Game. Then it was Prostitution, Human Trafficking, and Murder on a Massive Scale. At this Point if it’s Illegal and there’s money to be made the Van de Bergs are involved in it to some degree.” said the Young Girl with the Honesty of a Nun.

Stay Tuned for THE DEVIANT DETECTIVE #8 Coming Soon

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober (12:31am)

Another Day at The Cock’n Balls Bar and Pawn: Afternoon

Once the Hubbub from the Morning’s Pickled Toe Incident Owner Bud Wiser went back to lazily wiping down the Bar as His wicked Smokers Cough was getting the Better of Him. Bud Coughed, Wheezed, and Repeatedly Cleared His Throat while muttering about whatever was Annoying Him at the Time. Bud took a moment to Scan the Bar since there wasn’t anyone in the Pawnshop since it was Friday aka PayDay so the Need for People to Pawn their Possessions was greatly Diminished. As Bud Surveyed the Bar the Dust that Hung in the Air Mingling with the Smoke of Countless Cigarettes reminded Him of Sea Monkeys though He had No Idea Why.

Shitty Nickels was sitting in the Corner Strumming a Old Guitar that was Beat to Hell that He had found in the Trash Last Week. Shitty had been joined by His Dear Friends and fellow Musician Sexx Fuckin who was considered by Those in the Know as the Best Slide Guitarist Both Sides of the Mississippi. The Gruesome Twosome were Swapping Stories and Reminiscing about Days Long Gone By over some Seriously Strong Singapore Slings.

Mikey Drongo the Leader of a Near By Chop Shop was still sitting at the Bar sipping Beer and Downing Shots like there was No Tomorrow. Bud figured that Drinking like there was No Tomorrow made Perfect Sense considering Mickey’s Line Of Work. Considering He was in Fact a Criminal (regardless of How Nice a Guy He actually was). And Being a Criminal Meant Mickey could easily be Killed by Rivals or Locked Up in a Tiny Cell for the Rest of His Life. Both were Valid Reasons to Drink in Bud’s Mind.

Harry Twatter the Neighborhood’s Degenerate Gambler had taken off as soon as the Pickled Toe bet was Settled opting to Spend His Day down at the Dog Track. Harry would spend His Day Tossing Cups of Beer, Tearing Up Losing Tickets, and Having His Wallet Emptied as He Dreamed of Getting Rich Quick Schemes into between Races. After a Good 8-9 Hours at the Track Harry would show Up at The Cock’n Balls convinced He had come up with a Winning System based on His Mistakes from that Day.

Harry would inevitably end up Pawning God Knew What to Secure His Gambling Money for the Next Day’s Venture be it at The Track, Backroom Poker Games, or Illegal Casinos. Harry had always been a Truly Tragic Hero who Dreamed of Scoring a Small Fortune (through any means Possible outside of a Legitimate Job) and was Going Broke all the While.

Bawbag Cockwomble had Shuffled Off soon after winning the Pickled Toe Bet and claiming His prize of One Pickled Egg. Bawbag spent His Days Panhandling as He wondered The Streets until Sundown collecting that Night’s Drinking Money. Bawbag called it a Day at Sundown since walking up to a Car looking Filthy and Disheveled in the Dark with Your hand Outstretched was Likely to get You Killed. Bawbag made a pretty fucking Penny Panhandling have No Doubt about since Bawbag knew how to Play the “Spare Change” Game.

Bawbag had found a particularly Busy Intersection that was CONSTANTLY Jammed up with Commuters All Day Long as Opposed to just Rush Hour. Bawbag had learned the subtle art of Looking Pathetically Submissive enough to Get a Donation without looking Desperate. Bawbag knew Desperate People can be Extremely Unpredictable, and that makes Them Intimidating to the General Public which greatly Diminishes Daily Profits.

Pissy Wristy and Her Petty Drug Dealing Boyfriend Jimmy Tosser with the Lofty Ambition of Becoming a Full Blown Pimp had adjured to the Bathroom for a Quickie. Bud Waited a Receptive amount of Time before He went into the Bathroom and Evicted the Copulating Couple back to the Bar. Once The Disheveled Twosome had exited the Bathroom Pissy passed the fuck out from the Previous Nights Drinking, Drugging, and Fucking and Jimmy sat staring at His phone like an Intoxicated Caveman.

Dickey Dullard the Romantic and Animate Junkie had just recently Shot Up a Heavy Dose of Dope, and was attempting to Play Pool. Unfortunately Dickey was so High He just stood at the End of the Pool Table struggling to keep His fucking Eyes Open swaying unsteadily on His Feet. For all intents and Purposes looked Dickey looked so Comatose that Bud half expected Dickey to Suddenly Sink Unconscious to the Floor Collapsing into a Pitiful Heap.

Just Then “Bloody” Sod Bollocks burst through the Front Door with a Great Deal of Force sending the Door slamming against the Ball. Sod had entered this way since the First Time He entered the Bar 8 years ago, and as a Result from the Door Knob colliding violently with the Wall the Knob had Left a Deep Circular Indent at the Point of Impact. Sob strode over to the Bar and Hopped gingerly onto a Bar Stool and snatched up one of the Bowls of Peanuts from its Resting Place. Sod snatched up the Peanuts for the Sole Purpose of Throwing them at Dickey in an attempt to illicit a Response. For His part Dickey remained completely Oblivious to the Legume Assault being Launched at Him.

Sod quickly grew tired of Pelting Dickey with Peanuts and turned around to face the Bar. The Funny thing about Sod was He considered Himself an Intellectual, Yet Sod was also Self Admittedly Uneducated. Sod had dropped out of School after the 8th grade to go Work in a Haggis Manufacturing Plant. He had figured School was shit and Work was shit as Well, BUT at least Work Paid, and that was good enough for Sod. So with that He said So Long to School and Hello to the Blue Collar Factory Workforce. By the Age of 16 Sod had Left the Work Force since He didn’t Appreciate His Boss telling Him What to Do all damn Day.

With Little to No Prospects Sod gravitated to the Illegal World of Bare Knuckle Boxing where He earned the Moniker “Bloody” since thats the Condition His defeated Opponents Left the Ring in. Sod had made His way up through the Ranks and even had been the Reigning Bare Knuckle Boxing Champion for a Short While. Sadly for Sod He was forced to Vacate the Title when He immigrated to the United States to avoid a rather serious Legal Problem. Sod’s Legal Problem was while He was attending a Soccer Match to Cheer on His Team the Manchester United on to Victory. At some point during the Game Sod got Himself into an Altercation with a Drunken Soccer Hooligan. The Incident Ended with Sod Punching the Drunk Hooligan Dead in the Face so fucking Hard it Ironically Killed the Drunk Bastard Who Died where He Fell.

Sod stained at the Graffiti that Patrons had Carved into the Antique Oak Bar over its Many Years in Service. Again it didn’t take but mere moments before Sod became Board and Fidgety as He wasn’t a Very Proficient Reader, and was begging to Wonder why He been in a Bar for 10 minutes and Didn’t have a Beer in His hand as of Yet. Annoyed Sod peered through the Gloom of the Low Lighting until He saw Bud over in the Pawnshop messing around with a stubborn Display Case.

This made Sod Irate as fuck since He never saw the Point in converting Half of a perfect Decent Neighborhood Old Man Bar into a Pawnshop of all fucking things. Gambling Machines Now thats where the fucking Money was at so if Bud wanted to increase His Profits He should invest in a few Video Gambling Machines thats how it should have been Done in Sod’s opinionated Opinion. Everyone fucking Knows No One spends Money quite like a Drunken Gambler mused Sod to himself Las fucking Vegas was Built on that Principle Alone.

Sod waved His hand back and forth perturbed by Bud’s lack of Acknowledgement so He decided He’d call Out to Bud to get His attention. Also being the Dick that He was would use Buddy in place of Bud. Sod knew this Presumably Minor Indiscretion would Piss Bud off in a Big fucking Way because Bud had an extreme aversion to being called Buddy. No one knew why this was such a sensitive issue for Bud and judging by His reaction when it did happen No One was about to Ask.

“HEY BUDDY what the fuck Do I have to do to get a Fucking Beer around Here I’m about Dead of Dehydration for fucks sake!” bellowed Sod boorishly as He was apt to do.

Bud had been bent over a Display case tinkering with the Cantankerous lock due to it Being a Bit Rusted when He Heard Sod from across the Room. Bud snapped to Attention standing rigidly as if He was using every fiber of His being to Restrain Himself from running over and punching Sod in the fucking Throat. Bud’s eyes narrowed to the point One couldn’t tell if they were even Open as the Corners of His mouth sagged in Disapproval and Distain. Bud walked out from behind the display case in a Creepily Slow manner Reenforcing the feeling that He was straining with all His might to keep from going Completely Apeshit all over the place. As Bud walked with Purpose towards Sod He had His Shoulders back, and His Fists Clenched so Tight His Knuckles where turning White.

Stay Tuned for Another Installment of………

Another Day at The Cock’n Balls:Evening

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

The Deviant Detective #5: The Dawn of Another Day

Rock pulled into His Classic 1976 Cadillac into a Parking Spot directly in front of His Favorite Drinking Hole Old McCoy’s Pub. As He Parked Rock couldn’t for the Life of Himself shake Himself free from the Haunting Images He had witnessed just moments ago. The Mental Image of Ivy Savage going to Town on Her then Boy Friend Justin Sane’s Man Meat like a Starving Hobo chowing Down on a Hoagie. The Chunks of Bloody Genital Flesh flying through the Air as Blood Coated the Entire Room as Justin Screamed like a Banshee that had been Kicked in the Balls.

Well Rock thought to Himself as He exited His Caddie the Ivy Case was a complete Financial Loss because Not only did the Job last a Whopping 3 Hours, But His Client Ivy was clearly Mentally Deranged. Lunatics Don’t have any Money to Speak of so Rock’s Pay Day was a Big Bust. Goddamnit Rock that as He was already living in His Office Sleeping on an Old Military Cot He kept folded up in the Closet during Business Hours. Rock had to make some Quick Cash before He Ended up Homeless and living in a Refrigerator Box in some Dank Back Alley.

Rock entered Old McCoy’s which was a Close Knit Blue Collar Neighborhood Bar where Everyone Body Knew Each other and Looked Out for One Another. Their surrounding Neighborhood was More like an Extended Family than a Neighborhood. Rock liked that because it kept out the Frat Boys, Annoyingly Vocal Sports Fans, and Sloppy Drunkards.

Rock sauntered up to the Seat at the Bar that was directly between The Small black and White TV and The Bar Tender so that way He could easily keep an Eye on Both. Today The Old McCoy was being Tended to by Manny McCoy the Great Grandson of the Original Founder and Owner of Mccoy’s His Grandfather Bartholomew K. McCoy. Manny’s Father Mick’s health had been Failing as of Recent had taken a Back Seat as far as the Bar was Concerned. Mick was a well respected and revered Member of the Community who had been Slinging Drinks since he was 16. Unfortunately Mick being the Tragic Hero that He was had been a Big Time Drinker and now His Liver was Paying the Price.

Manny was the Next Generation in the Family’s Bar Business, and was preparing for the Transition from Bar Tender to Bar Owner. Manny was a cheerful young Man in His Mid Twenties with a Long and Lanky Build with a Smile that Could cheer up even a Suicidally Drunk Sailor. Manny had practically grown up in Old McCoy’s as His Parents had brought Him to Work starting when Manny was 2 years Old. Manny tended to Dress like James Dean in Blue Jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Manny’s attire was a direct reflection of His laid back attitude towards Life’s Trial and Tribulations.

“Hey Rock what are You Having?” asked Manny in His usual up beat tone.

“It’s been one of those Day’s Manny just one of those Day’s where Life seems Hell Bent of Kicking You in the Ribs while You’re Down,” replied Rock sounding Beaten Down and Exhausted, “What do You recommend for a Day like This?”

“Hmm Well I think if I had to Match the Drink to the Day, and that Day is Today I’d say O’Vladdy’s Vodka the Finest Irish Vodka in the Entire World I assure You.” answered Manny earnestly not making light of the Question.

“Alright then Let Me get 4 fingers of O’Vladdy straight.” said Rock unenthusiastically as He opened His Vintage 1920’s Cigarette (or Coffin Nails as Rock preferred to refer to them as) case, removed one of the Camel Unfiltered Cigarettes that where lined up like Soldiers at Attention. Rock ran the Cigarette under His nose Inhaling Deeply. Rock thoroughly enjoyed the Sweet Smell of the Tobacco Savoring it before Finally Lighting it. Rock took a long slow drag of His cigarette before Exhaling a billowing Cloud Of Smoke with a prolonged exasperated sigh. Manny brought Rock his Drink leaving the Bottle sitting on the Bar next to Rock’s Cigarette case.

After a while of sitting in Silence drinking and thinking a Tall Lean Man who appeared to be somewhere near 60 entered the Bar. He was extremely well dressed in an expensive designer 3 piece grey pin stripped Suit, a full length dark blue trench coat, and a Grey Fedora giving Him a Very European vibe. The Man’s hair was as White as a Polar Bears Fur, and the deep Lines in His face Didn’t make Him look Old, but Rather Distinguished instead. He stood just inside of the Door motionless for a minute before approaching the Bar. Once the Man reached the Bar He flagged down Manny immediately.

“I’m here to see if a Mr. Rock Hard is currently here in Your Drinking Establishment.” inquired the Man in a Low and controlled tone.

Manny shot Rock a quick glance on the Sly before he answered the Man’s question to see if Rock gave a Nod of Consent which He did. “Yeah He’s Here,” replied Manny gesturing towards Rock, “I’d be careful though He’s not in the Mood to be Trifled with.”

The Man approached Rock walking stiffly and with Purpose utterly oblivious as to the Rest of the Bar. He stood next to Rock without saying a word, pulled out a Bar Stool, and Sat Down looking Stoically Profound. The Man moved the bowl of Peanuts resting on the Bar in front of Him out of His way before placing His elbows on the Bar with His Fingers locked together. It was only then that the Man spoke.

“You are indeed Rock Hard,” questioned the Man in a Auoritative tone of voice,”You’re not an Easy Man to Find, but I assume thats because You want it that way.”

“I don’t have time for bullshit so let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the Point.” gripped Rock without looking at the Man seated beside him.

“Direct and to the Point I can appreciate that,” stated the Man in return, “I have been actively searching for a Unconventional Detective to help Me resolve a particular Problem,” said the Man cryptically not batting an eyelash.

“Alright what the fuck did I just say? Cut the Crap and get on with it already so I can go back to Drinking Myself into a Stupor,” snapped Rock agitatedly as He poured Himself another 4 Fingers of O’Vladdy, “What prey tell is Your problem just tell Me so We can end this conversation quickly.”

“Right so be it. My Name is Otto Van de Berg, and I’m an International Venture Capitalist of Moderate Fame and Vast Fortune,” said the Man as He waved Rock’s cigarette smoke out of His face,”I recently entered into a joint venture with a Man named Cyrus Bogdan who I had know for quite some time. We started the Investment Banking Firm Berg&Bogdan.”

“Doesn’t sound like must of a goddamn problem to Me.” said Rock rudely interrupting the Man as His Impatience was growing in Leaps and Bounds.

“AS I was Saying,” Otto retorted snidely, “Our Business was a Bonified Success and We were expanding the Business at an Incredible Rate. The problem arose when I returned from My Vacation in Malaysia you see. Upon My return I was informed Cyrus in fact Bankrupted the Company in a Fly By Night scenario. He emptied all 5 of the Firm’s Bank Account to the Tune of $76 Million, Drained the Employee Retirement Fund stealing $7.6 Million, and had proceeded to Robbed Our Top Their Clients for $176 Million. Thats aGrand Total of $259.6 Million which as I said Utterly Bankrupted the Firm not to mention landing Me in a great deal of Legal Trouble due to Cyrus’s Indiscretions.”

“I’m not going to Pull Your leg here Otto Old Boy a Man with $260 million in His Pocket has virtually No Chance in Ever being Found more or less be held accountable for Their Crimes,” said Rock in all sincerity not wanting to waste anymore of His Drinking time “So the Bottom line here is this Otto what the fuck do You want? You want Me to tracked this scumbag Cyrus down and bring Him back for Legal Prosecution because it sounds like He can Afford the Sleaziest Criminal Defense Attorneys there are. Also if your trying to Recoup Your cash good fucking luck as it’s more than likely already been spent, and a Convict making $.76 cents a Day making License Plates is paying Anyone Back worth a Damn. So I ask You Otto what the fuck do You Need Me For?!”

“In a Word,” said Otto in a Malevolent Whisper, “Revenge.”

Stay Tuned for the Next Installment of The Deviant Detective #6: The Plot Thickens COMING SOON.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Another Day Down At The Old CNB Bar & Pawn

Bud Wiser was running an Hour Behind in His Daily Schedule since He had been up half the Night. Bud had the unpleasant Pleasure of being Sleep Deprived this Morning because His Dog had eaten a piece of Rotten Garbage out of the Kitchen Trash Can. The Rotten whatever the hell it was had given Bud’s Dear Dog a Violent Case of Projectile Diarrhea that had wrecked Havoc for most of the Night.

Fuck Me This is NO GOOD Bud thought Over and Over while Walking as fast as His Limp would allow Him to. Bud had a Very Distinctive Limp after an Alleged Accident at Work when a Kegerator Exploded (after being Sabotaged mind You) in an Assassination Attempt against Him that Never was Resolved nor Explained.

You see Bud was the Owner and Proprietor of the Local Favorite Water Hole The Cock’n Balls Pawnshop and Bar. Bud had inherited the Establishment from His Father Miller who had Opened The Cock’n Balls with a Unique Vision of Combining a Bar and Pawnshop All in One. His Father had Opened The Cock’n Balls in the Fall of 1966 on the Outskirts of the Small City of Nowhere Special. Bud’s Father opened the Doors of His Life Long Vision after Retiring from a Lengthy Career at The Handy Leg Up Artificial Limb Factory.

Bud’s Father had chosen the Name because the Rooster (aka a Cock) was on the Wiser Family Crest. This was sue to The Wiser Family having been the Most Predominate and Wealthy Lithuanian Chicken Farmers in all the Land. Since Pawnshops have been around for Thousands of Years when the Average Person couldn’t Read or Write the 3 Hanging Balls that had come to Symbolized Pawn Shops had been adapted to combat the Wide Spread Illiteracy of the General Public. So when You add them together Your left with the Simple and Explanatory Name The Cock’n Balls (and since the Bar Sign Company charged by the individual letter Bud’s Father opted to save the Cash and just Add Lib the ‘N instead).

The Day Bud’s Father Died His Body was Liquified, and Mixed into the Barfly’s Bloody Mary Mix. Then at the Memorial Service the Following Afternoon the Attendees were all given a Complimentary Bloody Mary to Celebrate the Life of (instead of Mourning the Death) of Miller Tyme.

Bud had preserved the exactly same Operational Proceeders that had been set out by His Father which included a Strict Adherence to Time to keep the Cock’n Balls running on Schedule. This meant Bud had to arrive at the Business No Later than 6 am in order to get the CNT (As it was referred to by its Loyal Regulars) Ready to Open at 7 am Sharp for the Upcoming Day’s Drama. Today though Bud was an Hour behind due to the damn Dog, and He knew the Booze Loving Barbarians would already be Standing about on the Corner waiting for Him to arrive. And He wasn’t wrong not by a Long Shot.

The Gang of Usual Suspects were Standing about Lingering on the Corner outside of the CNB Chain Smoking like Fiends, and pacing Impatiently while compulsively checking Their watches as if Their Lives fucking depended on it. The Group was Split between the CNB Regulars, and The Night Shift Crew who just got off the Assembly Line of one of the Near By Factories, and were just looking to Relax after Work even if They did get Off work at 7 am.

Some of the Regulars that had already arrived included Shitty Nickels the Local Blues Musician who had just Finished a Long Night of Playing at Numerous Local Night Clubs and Cocktail Lounges. There was “Bloody” Sod Bollocks a Self Proclaimed Intellectual who’s Family had immigrated from England back in 1495 just 3 years after the Pilgrims found Plymouth and its Famous Rock. The funny thing about the Bollock Family was even though They had immigrated over 500 years ago None of Them had Lost Their Thick English Accents.

There was The Local Bum Bawbag Cockwomble who spent His Days Panhandling and His Nights at The CNB Drinking away the Days Profits. There was also Mickey Drongo who Spent His Nights running an Illegal Chop Shop around the Corner from The CNB. Also there was Pissy Wristy the Neighborhood Hooker, and Jimmy Tosser the Local Small Time Drug Dealer. As Bud Approached the Corner Harry Twat who Spent His Days down at the Dog Track Gambling on Anything He possibly Could (the Only issue was Harry had truly shitty Luck) walked up. The Last to Show up was Dicky Dullard a Low Level Criminal, and Adamant Heroin Junkie who Lived to Chase the Dragon with Pride.

As Bud Walked Up He could hear Mickey Drongo and Bawbag Cockwomble arguing over Some asinine thing or an Other. Jesus They’re starting Early Today Bud thought while sighing under His Breath. All of a Sudden Bud’s presence was Announced aloud by Mickey Drongo the ChopShop Mechanic, and Immediately Bud was subjected to a Verbal Tidal Wave of Complaints, Criticisms, and just plain Bitching from the Small Group assembled on the Corner in front of CNB.

“Hold Yer goddamn Horses Already! God forbid You all have to Wait one minute more than Necessary without Whining like Ally Cats for a Tin of Tuna.” Bud Barked Angrily.

“Pardon Dear Proprietor while We do love You establishment it is rather unprofessional to keep your Clientele waiting for up to an Hour after the Posted Opening Time.” chimed in Sod Bollocks who had already collected the Days Papers in Hopeful Preparation for a Payday. Sod had been in a rather large Rut recently, and was running up Tabs all over Town as it were while He struggled to Win a Single Wager down at the Track.

“Well Hold Yer Horses a bit Longer, You may be ready but the Cock’n Balls isn’t. I have done any of the Prep needed for dealing with the like of Your Lot.” snapped Bud growing weary of the Barrage of on Complaints from the Barking Boozehounds standing at His Door Step.

Bud pushed His way through the Customers perched like Alcoholic Buzzards waiting for the Doors to Open so They could Feast on the Fluids of Fermentation. Bud fiddled with the finicky lock until it finally gave way and let Bud stagger inside abruptly closing the Door behind Him under the Crescendo of Cursing from His Customers as They would have to continue to wait.

Bud flicked on the Lights, checked to make sure the Toilet was still functional, inspected the Pool Cues to insure they weren’t broken or Warped, He doubled checked to make sure the Display Cases were Securely Locked, Wiped down the Bar, made Sure He had the Stock He needed, Unlocked the Door to the Basement which acted as a Make Shift Poor Man’s Drunk Tank for Overly Intoxicated and Uppity Patrons, and Cleaned off the Table Tops. Then after He was fully satisfied Bud Opened the Doors at Last to the Great Relief of His Awaiting Patrons.

The Customers came pouring in like the Booze They poured down Their Throats. At this time of Morning all the Customers Gravitated to the Bar as Pawn Shop Customers general started showing up in the Early Afternoon. The CNT was split in Half by a Row of Rickety Tables, and a Motley Crew of Mis Matched Bar Stools that looked like each had been Salvaged from the Garbage on the Curb.

Once You entered the CNB the L shaped Old Oak Bar was directly to the Left along the Wall, and Directly to the Right was the Designated Pawn Shop Area. The Pawn Shop consisted of Display Cases housing Power Tools, Various Electronics, and Most Expensive Inventory (such Designer Watches or High End Pieces of Jewelry) lined the Wall with a almost equally as Long Display Counter filled with a Slew of Different Merchandise (Knives, Antique Coins, Lower end Jewelry, and Other Curiosities.

Each of the awaiting Patrons slid up to the Bar ready to start killing Their Livers as Quickly as Humanly Possible. Now because Bud Opened the CNB at 7am He served a what His Father had Dubbed “The Barfly Breakfast Special” which consisted of a Hot Dog, Pickled Egg, and a Draft Beer for $1.99. The Breakfast option provided Fuel for the Factory Workers after a Long Shift Toiling away performing Manual Labor, and it provided Fuel for the Regulars fora Long and Lingering Day of Drinking.

Mickey Drong The Owner of a Neighborhood Chop Shop picked the Spot at the Bar that was directly across from the Shitty and Barely functioning TV that was Hung on the Back of the Bar reminiscent of the way Motels did back in the Day when Mounted TV’s were what everyone was into. Sitting Next to Mickey was Bawbag Cockwomble the Pan Handling Alcoholic Bum who was still Babbling a Mile a Minute in Mickey’s Ear.

“Just BUY a Goddamn Egg it’s Only .25 Cents for Fuck’s Sake, and I damn well know even YOU have a crummy Quarter.” Mickey said exacerbated and trying His best to remain Civil.

“Yeah Yeah I do have a Quarter, but its designated for My Morning Shot of Grain Alcohol that Perks Me up and gets My Day off to a Good Start. I mean I need it, it’s fucking medicinal. I wonder around the Block for 12-14 hours a Day and My feet get all fucked up, Swollen and Sore shit like that.” whined Bawbag like a Cranky Child who wanted a Toy but Who’s Parents wouldn’t buy it for Them.

“That’s not My Problem it sounds like Yours to Me.” Snapped Mickey Sharply as His growing agitation started to get the Best of Him.

“All I’m saying Mickey is if Your going to Buy the Breakfast Deal Meal then You could just GIVE Me the Pickled Egg that comes with it. I could use the fucking Protien to help Me keep on Keeping On.” replied Bawbag indignantly as He too was getting rather Agitated at Mickey for not Forking Over the Pickled Egg Portion of His Breakfast.

“I have a great idea that will Settle this Little issue You Two are in the Mist Of.”, said Harry Twat the Neighborhood Deaerate Gambler with a Sly Smile stretched across His Face.

“And Whats That?!” ask Mickey unenthusiastically as the Whole Ordeal was wearing on Him at this Point He just wanted to be Rid of Bawbag and enjoy His Breakfast.

“A Wager, a Simple Bet will Fix it. The Bet shall be Whoever Eats the most Vomit Enducing Pickled Product Wins. Either Bawbag wins and Gets Mickey’s Pickled Egg or Mickey Wins and Bawbag has to leave Him Alone for the Entire Week.” proclaimed Harry Happily as if He had just Cured Cancer.

” I’M IN!!”blurted Out Bawbag fingering Win or Loose He was Going to Get Something to Eat out of it so fuck it Why Not?!

“Fine, I’m in Too. Whatever get this Pain in My Ass to Shut Up and go the fuck away so I can Enjoy My Morning with some fucking Peace and fucking Quit.” said Mickey having become absolutely exhausted by Now.

The Commotion had gotten the Attention of the Entire Bar Who’s Interest was Growing by the Minute. Bud went to fetch His Pressure Pickler (which is basically a Pressure Cooker modified for Speeding up the Pickling Process) that He had bought on impulse late one Night while He was watching Infomercials to combat His Insomnia. Once Bud returned to the Bar within Seconds after the Bet was made the Suggestions came Flying Fast and Furious. Among the first set of Suggestions were:

Pickled Pigs Feet which Everyone Agreed were to Cliche to Count.

Pickled Pig Knuckles which Everyone thought was Better than Pig’s Feet but Still Not Impressive Enough.

Pickled Sausages Which actual turned into a Suggestion as an Addition to the Barfly Breakfast which Bud Agreed to do starting the Following Day.

Then the Suggestions began to get Uniquer and Stranger than the One before it. Shitty Nickels suggested Pickling a Cockroach, but Bud vetoed it because there were No Roaches in His Establishment and Didn’t See the point in Introducing Them Now.

Then Pissy Wristy suggested Pickling up some Tripe (Animal Stomach Lining) Next Dickey Dullard The Passionately Romantic Junkie suggested Pickling a Container of Head Cheese.

This was followed by Jimmy Tosser the Local Dope Dealer’s suggestion that instead of Head Cheese upping the Ante by using Chitterlings (Animal Intentions, Organs, Eye Balls Etc.all thrown together in a 5 Gallon Bucket) instead.

Then it was Harry Twat’s turn Who’s suggestion was to Pickle a Whole Haggis. After almost an Hour of Debate it was Bawbag who finally came up with the winning Suggestion.

“I Got it, I know what to Pickle! My Toe!” exclaimed Bawbag way more excited than He should have been.

“What are You saying exactly Bawbag?” ask Bud who was now becoming concerned that this Bar Bet had gotten completely Out of Hand.

“You see I have an Ingrown Toe Nail on My Big Toe that got Horribly Infected, But I didn’t have the Cash for the Clinic so I just banged it up as best I could and went about My Business.” explained Bawbag to the more than Attentive Bar Patrons.

“You could have gone to the fucking Free Clinic Bawbag You dumbfuck.” snarled Mickey who had become thoroughly Disgusted by the ongoing issue.

“No Way it got shut down last month due to Budget Cuts by the State and all that Red Tape Bullfuckery.” Bawbag retorted confidently.

“So what about Your Infected Toe again?!” asked Jimmy Tosser eager to return the topic of the Conversation to the Bet at Hand.

“Oh Yeah So it was all Infected and Shit so as time went on it Contracted Gangrene something fucking Ferocious too I tell Ya. It turned all Black from lack of Blood Flow and its already beginning to Rot Off so Why not kill 2 Birds with one Stone?! Win the Bet and get My Diseased Toe Amputated for Free I literally can’t fucking Loose.” bragged Bawbag growing quite Cocky.

“Fine Agreed The Bet is You have to Eat The Entire Severed Toe.” growled Mickey angrily.

“How the Hell are We going to Amputate it?!” wondered Pissy aloud.

“This is How We can use My Cigar Cutter to Lop it Off, and then all We have to do is Cauterize it. After that We apply some Triple Antibiotic Ointment, Wrap it up, and Thats It We’re Done.” said Shitty Nickels, “We did this kind of shit all the Time in Nam it’s easy if You know what the fuck You’re doing.”

The Bar Patrons along with Mickey and Bawbag made Their way over to the Nearest Table. Bawbag say down gingerly on one of the Wayward Stool and Then Took Off His Older than Old Beaten Up Boot. The Smell was so Pungently Rank it caused Pissy Wristy to instantly Vomit before Fainting. Bud picked Pissy Up off the Floor, set Her on the Bar, and revived Her by placing a Bottle of Cheap Gin under Her Nose like a Alcoholic Smelling Salts.

Bawbag paused to watch Bud take care of Pissy before He pealed off His rank Sock which made a Wet Sucking sound as Bawbag slowly removed it. The Smell which was already Over Powering the Bar immediately intensified to the Point Everyone’s Eyes started to Water, and Dickey Dullard shit Himself on the Spot.

Once Bawbag’s foot was Bare Shitty handed Him His Cigar Cutter which He crammed onto His Sickly Swollen Toe taking several minutes to Force it down to the Base of said Toe. Once the Cigar Cutter was in Place at Last Shitty Nickels instructed Bud to fetch the Ointment and Bandages from the Bar’s First Aid Kit. Shitty Nickels then had Harry retrieve a Large Butcher Knife that Bud used to Slice Lemons and Limes from behind the Bar. He then told Harry to start a Fire in the Tiny Metal Trash Can from the Bathroom. Then Shitty Nickels had Harry place the Blade of the Knife across the Top of the Trash Can so the Fire could Heat up the Knife until it was a Deep Glowing Orange.

Then Shitty Nickels had Bawbag place His foot flat on the Floor, Told Him He was going to count to 3, and on2 Shitty Stomped down with all His weight onto the Cigar Cutter. There was a brittle crunch and Bawbag’s Gangrenous Toe popped off and slid across the Bar floor coming to a stop under the Dilapidated Pool Table nestled in the Back of the Bar adjacent to the Restroom. Shitty pounced like a Cat of Coke snatching the Glowing Red Hot Knife and shoved it up against the Base of Bawbag’s recently Severed Toe . The Smell of Sizzling and partially Rotten Flesh drowned the Repulsive Smell of Bawbag’s Feet which most in Attendance appreciated especially Dickie and Pissy.

After 30 seconds or so Shitty removed the Knife tossing it carelessly onto the Bar causing Bud to lose His Shit. The Group returned to the Bar where Jimmy Tosser handed over Bawbag’s Diseased Digit over to Bud who plopped it unceremoniously into the Pressure Pickler and Turned it on. It seemed like an Eternity to the Eagerly Waiting Rag Tag Group of Drunks, but in Reality it was only 17 minutes before Bawbag’s Toe was completely Pickled.

Bud Opened the Pressure Pickler and Removed the Toe with a pair of Metal Salad Tongs, Placed it on a Cocktail Napkin, and handed it to Bawbag who seemed utterly unfazed by the whole Ordeal. Bawbag picked up His Toe examining it for a moment before tossing it into His Mouth. Bawbag chewed away until finally He Strained to Swallow. After some finagling Bawbag managed to get the Toe down, and then He opened His Mouth like Mental Patient to Visual Confirm He had in fact Swallowed the Toe. Bud stared blankly into Bawbag’s gaping Gullet before announcing Bawbag had completed the His Task thus making Him the Winner. Bawbag then turned to Mickey Drongo, Chuckled to Himself and the He said:

“I’ll be taking that Egg Now Mickey.”

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Not Totally Off The Record

Well it’s been a Year and a fucking Half and,I still have a few Medical Bills I have to get sorted out which is No Big Deal really it just takes some time. As I said before TIME TAKES TIME.

So Monday Night I went to My Local Bar to meet up with My Brother, SpaceDog, and some Mutual Friends for a couple of Drinks. Once We all had arrived We ordered a Couple of Pitchers of Beer and started to Shoot the Shit and Blow off some Steam.

Unbeknownst to Me My Brother had made up His mind to Record Me (Using His fucking Cell Phone at that) when He thinks I’m saying something with Some Sort of fucking Value. What that May or May Not be is left up to His discretion.

I can’t be Mad about it in the Least. I constantly tell Myself I should utilize Voice Memos on My Phone to Record ideas as I go on through out My Day. I’m not always near My Laptop (I’m not one of those Assclowns that walk around all fucking Day with Their Laptop tucked under tTheir Arm or in some shitty bag slung over Their shitty shoulder.).

Also there is NEVER a fucking Pen and Paper when You Need it, but thats alright I end up writing shit down on whatever is handy and then promptly loose Them. Cell Phones aren’t always Sufficient and can be Temperamental twats.

So really He’s doing it on My Behalf. This is a Excerpt from what He recorded That Evening. NOTHING has been Added, Deleted, or Embellished. I like this recording because it showcases both sides of My Personality. On one Hand You have the Decent Guy with a Big Heart. On the Other Hand there’s the Sarcastic, Pessimistic, Shit Talking, Opinionated, Rude, Brutally Honest, Anti-Authority, and Offensive Foul Mouthed Asshole.

“You, I feel bad ok there two Schools of Thought. You feel bad because I’m not a complete asshole so I feel bad for the Debt Collector because I am aware of what Their day is like dealing with People like Me when I’m acting like Me.

So thats why like I get really fucking indignant when I don’t duck Your phone calls, I’m not procrastinating, I’m not bullshiting, I’m not wasting your time in fact I’m calling you so all I’m saying is I expect you to be cooler because I’m basically walking up to You and going Hey here’s a free present. I’m not going to yell and curse at you. I’m actually calling you because I want to find out how I can pay the bill or a payment method to do so.

What more can a fucking Creditor want?! I mean fucking seriously, fucking seriously. It should should be Their wet Dream. Even this Lady today was great towards the end and shit We were joking these People do have a sense of humor. They really fucking do. They will admit what Their job is asking of You absolutely fucking ridiculous because They Themselves could not fucking do it, and They work for these people.

It was all good like I was confused, but that’s from talking to the other people so a that point I had a limited capacity. Um… I was kind of thinking about what My Wife was saying. Admittedly there is some diminished mental capacity at that point, so that’s all I’m going to say thats My only statement. Um… but like right after We got to joking and like everything was under control as far as I’m fucking concerned things were going great at that point.

I’m like I’m exhausted, I barely know what the fuck is going on, but I got this Lady laughing I haven’t told Her to go fuck her own face this is going great. And yes I understand there is another second bill…Oh Shit.

+At this point I was unaware of where I was waving My hands and knocked over My Freshly made Rum & Coke+

That’s a dead solider right there, but My point is I dressed that with Her so not only have We taken care of 1 account plus what I had already paid the Doctor’s office before I called Her, and We addressed the 3rd account so we should be fine. Like I said everything is going great. I told Her I had to talk to a particular person to acquire the cash to pay off the 3rd account in full in just one singular fucking payment. Pretty goddamn reasonable if you ask Me for someone who’s being contacted by a fucking Collection Agency.

And like I said I realize it’s Her job dude but it’s the quickest way to get Me to FUCKING HATE YOU. It’s like all bets are off I was playing nice, and self justification that if They aren’t playing nice then I DON’T HAVE TO PLAY NICE. This happened when She jumped Me like an parasitic asshole and was like “Oh Well When will You be Talking to That Person? Do you know how much money you can get from this person? Can you get all of the Money from this person? When do you think you can get some money from that person? When can you get all of the money from that person?

So I’m like OH YOU CAN SUCK MY DICK because thats just fucking ridiculous. I just fucking did your job and made your day a whole lot easier by one phone call You can go tell Your Boss You settled an account, They paid this initially today, We got a split payment plan for the rest, and I told Him about the 2nd outstanding account He told Me Blah Blah Blah He’s going to make some calls or whatever.

I’m sorry but as far as I’m concerned thats a fucking Win-Win for fucking both of Us. So I just like I know it’s part of Her job, but like You still as a person She has free will so She didn’t actually have to say that.

And if someone had come to Her and been like “Margret You Didn’t ask THE QUESTIONS?!” or whatever the fuck Her name was She could have been like “HEY in all due favor LOOK Payment, Set Up Payment, and addressed payment So You can’t really be mad at Me.” because basically She did her job Great. I got money, I set up getting more money, and Addressed the 3rd Money What do You want from Me so what if I went off script or some shit?!

It wouldn’t mean shit to anybody as long as She collected some fucking cash or a Commitment (AKA a Payment Plan) for Payment because lets face it thats all They give a flying fuck about is the Money. So She literally in all actuality even though I am saying it’s Her job I’m making excuses for Her because I don’t think She had to do that. Why become an asshole at the end of a successful phone call?! What fucking purpose could that serve?!

When She did that there was a feeling like Oh Ok now You’re going to slap Me in the fucking face? We just went thorough all this bullshit, We came to a resolution, We’re all Happy and We’re going to shake hands and instead of shaking My hand You’re going to just slap Me in the Face. And then start drilling Me like some insane interrogation Which by the way I’d have to be fucking Psychic to have any sort of answer about future fucking payment.

I have no idea when or where I will speak with someone it’s not fucking like “Oh sure I’ll be having Lunch with them in 3 weeks on the 24th at 12:33pm at The Greasy Spoon Diner. I will have a Cheese burger and They will have the Soup of the fucking Day. They will be impeccably dressed as usual. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK YOU UNREALISTIC ASSHOLE(S).!”

That is were that particular recording was abruptly ended by My Brother.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Well We Could See This Coming From a Mile Away.

Yes I have once again managed to let Life sideswipe Me, and Now I’m playing catch up like a motherfucker. Easter was a bit shall We say Extreme. It started when Our Departure Time was delayed 3 hours by having to deal with some last minute Big Dog bullshit.

When We finally Hit the Road the Weather was Gloomy, Overcast, and bit Rainy like Seattle 99% of the time. Anyway We found out Via the Radio that there was a Massive Storm Front coming Our way that consisted of 5 different Sever Thunderstorms that was kicking the shit out of everything in its path. Now My Wife and I having spent far too long in The Great Southern Swamp just shrugged the Warnings Off because We’d been through Category 1 Hurricanes all the way to Category 4 (Hurricane Scale is 1-5 with 5 being the real motherfucker.

The next thing We know the Skies opened up in a Biblical Downpour and the Wind picked up so Furiously that it was a struggle keeping the Car in its Lane as it felt like the Car was being battered by an endless line go Wrecking Balls. Then the Radio started to blow up every 12-15 minutes with VERY DIRE Tornado Watches that were now plaguing the surrounding areas. The Tornado Warnings were so Death and Doom oriented I recored on one My Phone. Here is that Tornado Warning:

“Beep-Beep-Beep The National Weather Service has issued a tornado Warning for Cumberland, Kilingsworth, and Duncan unit 2:15 pm eastern Daylight Time. At 1:37 pm Severe Thunderstorms capable of producing BOTH Tornados and extensive HIGH WIND Damage Located near Mourville moving Northeast at 45 miles per hour. HAZARD TORNADO Source: Radar indicated Rotation. Impact: Flying Debris will be Dangerous those caught without Shelter, Mobile Homes WILL BE DAMAGED OR DESTROYED. Damage to Roofs, Windows, and Vehicles WILL OCCURE. Tree Damage IS LIKELY. This Waring Includes I-90 between Mile Markers 48 and 68. Precautionary/Preparedness Actions: TAKE COVER NOW. Move to an Interior Room located on the LOWEST FLOOR of a STABLE BUILDING. AVOID WINDOWS. If You are Outdoors, in a Mobile Home or in a Vehicle move to the CLOSEST SUBSTANTIAL SHELTER and PRTECT YOURSELF FROM FLYING DEBRIS. This cluster of Thunderstorms is capable of PRODUCING TORNADOS and WIDE SPRED WIND DAMAGE. DO NOT WAIT TO SEE OR HEAR THE TORNADO for Your PROTECTION Move to an INTERIOR ROOM on the LOWEST FLOOR of a Building. Beep-Beep-Beep”

The rain was coming down in Torrential Sheets being wildly whipped around by the increasingly strong Winds. You couldn’t see more than 5 feet in front of You at best. You had to strain the fuck out of Your eyes in an attempt to keep track of the Tail Lights of the Car in front of You to (keep from driving off the fucking road all together). There was a moment when My Hurricane Bravado wained and I thought to Myself that Holy Shit We might have to be ready to actually Bail off the Highway in search of Shelter of some sort. Luckily We made it through unscathed.

I got to My meeting at 9:45 pm and started Drinking at 9:47. I overdid it a bit and ended up doing Shots of Fireball while pounding Budweisers until I back to Our Base Camp at 4:30ish in the Morning. Needless to say I’m getting Older than I was Earlier in My Life and woke up the Next Day feeling like I had been run the fuck over by a Steamroller. I spent the Day nursing one hell of a Hangover. By 6:30 I was back on track. We had an early Easter Dinner and was back at the Bar at a little before 10pm, but this was a Personal trip for Fun (Not Business like the Night Before). I arrived back at Basecamp at quarter of 3 in the Morning.

On Easter We hit the Road for Home and this time the Trip was smooth as could be without a single delay or mishap. WITH THAT SAID I am Fully Aware I am behind in Posting the “Daily” installments of Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher as well all the other Planed Posts because of this Turbulent Trip. I Apologize in al Honesty and with the greatest Sincerity I will do My Best to get Caught Up Quick as I can. Thank You.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

Definition of Bottle Club

Bottle Club: A private drinking club; specifically, an association of people, often unknown to one another, for the sole purpose of providing themselves with liquor and a place to drink it after the legal closing hours of public bars or in a city or county where the public sale of alcoholic beverages is prohibited.

Side Note:

Bottle-Man: A drunkard or habitual drinker