Tag: Beer

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

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (33/365)

Suddenly Dizzy turned to Lee, and surprised the hell out of Him which was Rare as Lee wasn’t easily Surprised.

“You ever Notice how a lot of times Someone You know Dislikes or even Hates Some other Person until that Person Dies, and as soon as the Person is Dead They aren’t assholes anymore? It’s as if by Dying the Person in Question is immediately absolved of all Wrong Doings during Their Life, and the People who Previously Bitched, and Talked Shit about Them Now have Nothing but Respect and Reverence for the Deceased Who when Alive was the very Person They swore was the Bane of Their Existence.” said Dizzy matter of factly as He finished Beer Number 4, and Ordering Beer Number 5.

       

Dizzy waited for the Bartender to return with His Fresh Beer before inquiring “Hey You got shit to do Today or are You free to fuck around Town , and get into some type of Trouble?!”

Lee thought to Himself and realized that He didn’t have a damn thing to do so why not see where the Afternoon would take Him.

“I got some time to Hang Out’n see Whats What.” answered Lee earnestly as He shifted uneasily in His Seat. Watching People was Lee’s Forte, and Interacting with Them Tended to put Him on Edge at First due to His Serious Trust Issues.

       

“Alright Dope. I’ll call My Buddy over at the Shitty Theater and tell Him We’re leaving are Cars, and He’ll keep an Eye on Them so They don’t get Towed or Fucked With.” announced Dizzy quite Energetically before requesting to use the Bar’s Phone.

This struck Lee as very Peculiar since People Now a Days all Live in Constant Contact with the Aide of the ever Prevalent Smart Phones so using a Business’s Landline struck Lee as Note Worthy. While Lee pondered this newly discovered Oddity Dizzy was engaged in an Increasingly Loud and Aggressive Conversation with His Buddy at the Theater over the Car situation ending with Dizzy slamming down the Phone Receiver violently several times for emphasis.

“Fuck I can’t believe there are People Born who will never know the succinct Satisfaction of Hanging the fuck Up on Some Douche by Slamming Down the Phone Receiver. Anyway He said He’d watch the Cars, He was just being a real dick about it is all. He’s a Moody little Motherfucker. Goddamn Temperamental Artist Asshole.” snarled Dizzy Seething with Frustration and Simmering in Contempt.

       

“Alright,” Dizzy continued having gathered His composure from His perviously infuriating Phone call, “Do You have any Bitcoin? Unusual Question, but Ride only Takes Bitcoin that’s the only reason I’m asking.”

“No I don’t own any Crypo Currency because I really don’t see the Point. What I mean is I know what Bitcoin is right, and I know how You can buy It. Then it starts to get Shady because for one where the fuck can You spend it outside of The Dark Web? I can’t buy fucking food with it or Pay My fucking Bills with it so what the fuck is it good for exactly?! ALSO the one question NO ONE has been able to Answer is HOW THE HELL DO I CASH OUT?! Where and How can I convert My Bitcoin into Actual Physical Cash?!” responded Lee now finding Him to be the one getting all Amped.

        

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK for the Next Breath Taking Installment of………

LEE JONITIS: PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE WATCHER (34/365)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober (Posted at 12:31am Sunday)

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (32/365)

Dizzy sat back on His Bar Stool, and stared at the Vast array of Liquor Bottles that lined the Wall behind the Bar as if He were memorizing the Wide Array of Labels for Future Reference. Perhaps Dizzy thought knowing a wide range of Liquors might come in handy if He suddenly found Himself on Jeopardy with Alex Trebec during Happy Hour. For whatever reason Dizzy had suddenly become silently introspective which didn’t bother Lee in the Least.

The way Lee saw it the ability to sit comfortable in Silence with a Someone was a true Testament to true Friendship. To be able to sit in a Room with someone and NOT feel Compelled to Converse since silence makes People uneasy in General. Lee recollected a saying He had heard year before something to the affect of “Silence Makes Guilty People Feel Uneasy.” which He always found Ironically Amusing. If that was indeed true Lee figured that made just about everyone Guilty of something, and that made Him wonder what They perhaps were Guilty of.

       

As Lee sipped His Beer He started to in gauge His curiosity surrounding the current situation as it related to Dizzy. Lee felt assured that this was the beginning of a Friendship, but exactly what kind of Friend could/would Dizzy be in Actuality? As We all know there are a Staggering amount of Different Personalities from which Dizzy May or May not Belong to so Time would be the Deciding Factor.

Lee might not ever even see Dizzy again after this Today’s chance encounter. If Lee did end up Hanging Out consistently with Dizzy would Lee find out quickly that Dizzy is a Shitty Person. What is say He was an Evangelical Fanatic, a MAGA, Hypocrite, or Fraud. Perhaps They’d be Friends for Now, but the Friendship would Fade Away after a pivotal point in the Friendship after a Seriously Heated Argument or if One of Them Moved a Way for Work or some such shit.

Dizzy could end up being one of those Friends You repeatedly cross paths with over the Years. The Kind of Friend were No Matter how fucking Long it has been You can pick Up EXACTLY where You left Off the Last Time Your Paths crossed. A True Kindred Spirit.

Perhaps They would become Friends and an integral in each other’s Lives. They’d both get Married and have a Few fucking Kids, a Mortgage, and a Asshole Boss. And each would be there for one Another during the Key moments in Their Lives a witness to Each Other’s  Trials and Tribulations in Life. Hell They might just end up picking up one another’s crappy Kids from Soccer Practice and Routine Life shit like that.

        

Only Time would Tell reminded Himself as He found His curiosity spiraling into Chaotic. For now Lee was just going to kick back and enjoy the fuck out of His Beer, and wait to see what was Coming up Next.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK for the Next Exhilarating Installment of………

LEE JONITIS: PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE WATCHER (33/365)

(Note to Readers: This Post was Posted at 12:42 am which again in FYB’s Book was still in this Case Sunday.)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (31/365)

” There nothing I like better right now than a Cold Beer.” Said Lee emphatically with His eyes still Locked on The Fatal Four Way Refund Death Match still going Strong in front of Them.

“I know a place Near by. It’s My Actual Neighborhood Bar believe it or Not. Low Lights, Cold Beer, No $15 Cocktails, No Flare, No Pretentious Mixologists, No Dj, and No Trendy goddamn Hipster Half Wits. People at The Boozehound are content to leave one another in Peace. Respect the Institution of Bars.” said Dizzy almost growing giddy a the Thought, “It’s called the Boozehound and it’s a True American Classic Dive Bar.”

“Dive Bar you say?” responded Lee His Apprehension being quite evident.

“What? You got a fucking Problem with Dive Bars, I mean what are You one of those Commercial Sheep? One Those Applebee’s Assholes or What?!” demanded Dizzy defensively.

      

“No Offense its nothing fucking Personal in the least. It’s just that sometimes People get confused on the exact Definition of a Dive Bar. What you described is the Ideal Dive Bar Scenario and I’m liking it again don’t get Me wrong. Some People mistake a Shitty Hellhole of a Bar as What a Dive Bar is or should. When in Actuality its nothing like the fucking stupid Stereotype as Stereotypes go,” explained Lee plainly, “Dive Bars don’t Stink of Stale Beer or Urine, They don’t smell like fucking Vomit either. They’re not dirty, scummy, disgustingly unhygienic, The Bathrooms aren’t total shitholes that make Gas Station Restrooms look like the Fucking Four Seasons. You walk into a place like that its just a Shit Bar it’s No Dive Bar by Definition thats for sure.”

“Oh shit Ok I see what  You’re saying. No I assure I’m not an Ignorant asshole or anything. Its a straight up by the Book Dive Bar.” said Dizzy with renewed Confidence.

       

With that the Two New Acquaintances departed the Theater leaving the Refund Turmoil behind. They walked several blocks through a nice Working Class Neighborhood until They Reached the Boozehound located on the Street Corner. Dizzy threw open the Door and strode in like He owned the fucking joint with Lee in tow.

Lee looked around the Bar assessing the Layout. To the left was the actual Bar that stretched almost the entire way down the wall, and a Row of High Backed Booths lining the wall to the right. The Restrooms were located all the way at the back of the Bar next to an Antique Wurlitzer Jukebox, and one of the World’s Last Pay Phones.

Dizzy and Lee posted up at the Far end of the Bar because Dizzy apparently had some fucking Mobster Complex. He said He always has to have His back to a Wall, and Where He could See the whole Bar but more importantly the Front Door. Lee wondered if Dizzy had a good reason to be Paranoid or if it was simply a Personal choice.

       

“See the Middle Aged Guy sitting in the Last Booth?” ask Dizzy in a hushed Tone.

“Yeah I saw Him when We came,” answered Lee, “Why what’s His deal?”

“Its one of those No One really knows. We Call Him Vladdy He first came to The Boozehound in the Winter of 1980, and been showing up every single day since. Vladdy keeps solo to Himself and He doesn’t say shit. Not that it matter though since Vladdy doesn’t speak a fucking lick of English and No One round here Speaks a lick of Russian, but Somehow Vladdy and the Bartenders have found some sort of way to Communicate even if it’s in a very Simplistic manner.” Replied Dizzy sparking up a Joint and continuing, “Oh it’s fine if I Smoke a little Weed in here I know the Owner. Anyway every morning when the Owner comes to Open Up Vladdy is already here and waiting on the Stoop. Everyday it’s the exactly same fucking routine. Owner Opens up, Vladdy takes His spot at the Last Booth along the Wall. After Vladdy takes a seat The Bartender brings Vladdy a Jar of Kosher Dill Pickles, a Shot Glass, and an entire unopened Bottle of this Insane Russian Vodka. I think I heard His Family actually makes the shit and ships it Stateside for Him or some crazy shit like that. It’s Vladdy so who knows.”

       

Dizzy paused for a minute to get the attention of the preoccupied Bartender who was standing with His back t the Bar intently scrutinizing the Football game that was on the Bar’s only TV. When Dizzy got the Bartenders attention He ordered Them a couple of Ice Cold DraftBeers along with a couple of Shots of Maker’s Mark before returning to the conversation.

“Well Vladdy spends the Day sitting in His Booth Taking Shots and Eating a few Bites of Pickle in-between until The Vodka Bottle is Empty. The Vladdy gets up and Leaves for where who the hell knows most likely its Home I’d suppose. And then it starts all over agin the next Morning kind of like an Alcoholic Version of that Bill Murray Movie fucking Groundhog Day and shit.” said Dizzy right before slamming a shot and a Beer, and then ordering another round.

Stay Tuned Kiddies for Tomorrow’s Stupendous Installment of………

LEE JONITIS: PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE WATCHER (32/365)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober.

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (21/365)

“Look I know You’re young Guys and I could care less if You Guys wanna Drink some Beers or Smoke a little Pot, But NOT on My time, NOT on My dime You hear Me?” asked Bob in a  Authoritative Tone that resembled a Stern, but Fair Father Figure more than a Boss.

“I here You loud and clear Sir.” replied Lee being sure to sound as Sincere as He actually was.

“I’m not joking here I don’t need any extra bullshit to deal with. I already got a heaping helping of Everyday Bullshit on My damn Plate. This is a Business and I’m not in the Bullshit Business. This isn’t a damn Manure Factory for Christ’s sake You know what the hell I’m saying?” said Bob who was beginning to sound a bit worked up.

      

Bob walked over to the Office’s Big Plate Glass window and peered out Purveying the Gas Station from one end to the Other as if He was standing Guard. Bob then turned to Lee and sighed before offering Lee the Job which Lee gladly took.

“Now I don’t wanna come off like a hardass here, But I’m dead serious I don’t tolerate a bunch of juvenile bullshit. You gotta see where I’m coming from.” said Bob exasperatedly, “There was this one time a couple of the Boys who were off work swung on by to keepTheir Buddy who working the Overnight Shift from 11pm to 7am company. Well They’re hanging out and decided since it had gotten so damn late that there wasn’t a single damn car out on the Road more or less one needing a fill up.”

       

Bob wondered behind the Office Desk as He talked and started to fuck around with some of the Work Order’s on the Counter. Lee couldn’t help at this point thinking Bob looked like Mario’s (from the Classic Super Mario Brothers Video Game) lesser known Older Brother Antonio or some shit.

“Anyway These geniuses go buy some beer from the Connivence Store across the way there, and started knocking them back.” continued Bob as He started to fiddle with the Computer Mouse while squinting at the screen ignorer to see what it said before finally continuing the Story.

     

“So its the following Day which was a Saturday so that’s a busier Day around here being the Weekend and All. Well around lunch it was around 1 in the afternoon if I remember it right a big old wind started blowing. Well wouldn’t you know it all of a sudden You know what starts blowing down off the Roof?” asked Bob fustratedly, “Damn Empty Beer cans. The Guys thought it was funny to throw Their empty’s from the previous Night up on the damn Roof instead of just chucking them in the damn Trash Dumpster.  So as a result I now had a barrage of Beer Cans flying off the Roof with every Gust of Wind pelting My Workers, The Customer’s, The damn Pumps, and worst of all the Customer’s Cars. And on top of it all the damn things are scattered all over the damn Lot rolling all around like a bunch of aluminum tumbleweeds or some damn thing. It was a complete mess, and damn near killed off My customer base because No One wants to deal with that bullshit just getting some damn Gas You know.”

      

Stay Tuned Kiddies for Tomorrow’s Exciting Installment of………

LEE JONITIS: PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE WATCHER (22/365)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (4/365)

The last Porn Sho point Lee was mulling over in his head was along with everything else was that with Social Acceptability now Free from the Religious Righteousness, Guilt, Stigma, Demonization, and Stereotyping of the Past had directly correlated to the Social Shift in Porn Shop Cliental.

The Days of Porn Shops being Inhabited by Lone Pale skinned, Greasy Haired, Sunken Eyed Porn Zombies or Perverts in Trench Coats with Fedoras pulled down over Their eyes, and Hardcore Porn S&M Types had faded into the Obscurity of Days gone By.

In the Times since the Social Shift Porn Shop Customers suddenly became Normal Everyday People They could be anyone You see or pass on the Street. Post is They look just like You or A Soccer Mom. People came in and Smiling, Joking, and just had some fucking fun in Todays Times.

Not to mention Porn Shops started to be frequently Patronized by Couples of all Sexual Types and Orientations. Boy Fiends, Girl Friends, Fiancees, Life Partners, and Married Couples opening a whole new accessible demographic who would have literally NEVER set foot in a Porn Shop thats for fucking Sure.

   

It was then that Les realized His eyes were closed and He had just become aware of it. Damn too many Beers last Night at the Bar Lee thought to Himself as He was already battling a Brutal Hangover. Considering sitting still would only contribute to the issue at hand Lee hopped off the Stool behind the Check Out Counter, and figured now was a good as time as ever to do a little inventory. Nothing like counting Dildos and Inflatable Fuck Dolls to get the Blood Flowing, well it at least it keep Him awake.

A few minutes past as Lee counted Cockrings and Clit Stimulators when He hear the Front Door Bell. Ah the first Customer of the Day Lee thought as He was glad to have anything to do other than fucking Inventory. Lee strode quickly back behind the Cashiers Counter, and took a seat on the rickety Bar Stool and, waited eagerly to see what the preverbal Cat dragged in Today for Him to Observe.

   

Stay Tuned For Tomorrow’s Installment of Lee Jonitits: Professional People Watcher (5/365)

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Absurdia’s Billion Dollar Beer Club Selections

Welcome Dear Customer to Absurdia’s Billion Dollar Beer Club,

Below You will find a unparalleled Selection of Ten of the World’s Most EXPENSIVE BEERS hand picked by our Elite Bartender’s Bartholomew Godfry and Beatrice De Massard.

The Ten Featured Beers are not just some World’s Most Expensive Beers, but are the Only Beers deemed to uphold Our Highest Caliber of Quality.

   

In Our undying Quest to provide only the World’s Most Luxurious Experience here at Absurdia on August 8th 2000 Absurida’s BILLION DOLLAR BEER CLUB was Born. The concept is quite simple indeed.

The First Absurdia Customer to Purchase $1,000,000,000 worth of Our Exclusive Billion Dollar Beer Club Selections will Automatically WIN FREE BEER for Themselves, and One Additional Person at Absurdia FOR LIFE.

The Winner will also receive a SOLID 24 CARAT GOLD BEER MUG (weighing 2,738.4 Grams of 24 Carat Gold Valued at $112,986.35 and COVERED IN 500 ONE CARAT HAND CUT FLAWLESS DIAMONDS (Total Worth of Diamonds $3,659,500)

The Billion Dollar Beer Club Selections:

Sapporo’s Space Barley: $110 for a 6 pack of 12oz Bottles (ABV 6.0%)

Crown Ambassador Reserve: $90 for 750ml Bottle (ABV 10.2%)

Tutankhamen Ale: $75.00 for 500ml Bottle (ABV 6.0%)

Brew dog’s Sink The Bismarck $80.00 for a 375ml Bottle (ABV 41%)

Samuel Adam’s Utopias: $150.00 for a 700ml Bottle (ABV 27%)

Schorschbrau’s Schorsch Bock 57: $275.00 for a 330ml Bottle (ABV 57.5%)

Carlsberg Jacobson Vintage: $400.00 for a 375ml Bottle (ABV 10.5%)

Past Blue Ribbon 1844: $44.00 for 720ml Bottle (ABV 6.0%)

Brew dog’s The End of History: $765.00 for 330ml Bottle (ABV 55%)

 

Nail Brewing’s Antarctic Nail Ale: $800-$1,815 for a 500ml Bottle (ABV 10%)

 

Congratulations are in order for Our Current Billion Dollar Beer Club Leader Tristen Chitterlings III with a current Total of $189,357,044.01

If Absurdia acquires any Future Additional Selections for The Billion Dollar Beer Club they will be Added to the Menu Immediately, and Club Members will be Instantly informed of the New Selection(s) via Twitter.

Until then Just Relax and Enjoy 10 of the FINEST and EXPENSIVE Beer the World has to Offer.

 

Thanks for Reading,

   By Les Sober

The Lingering Ghosts of Days Long Gone

Holt Mulligan was considered a good many things, but human never seemed to be one.  You see Holt grew up in the tiny rural community of Wayward Louisiassippi. Now its no wonder no one outside of Wayward heard it referred to as Louisiassippi and if They did it was an anomaly.

Back when the community was first settled in 1630 just 10 years after the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock. Louisiana became a State in 1812, and that didn’t much affect Wayward as a whole. It wasn’t until Mississippi became a State itself in the year 1817 that Wayward was presented with an unique dilemma.

Once Mississippi became a State the State Line was created which cut the Wayward Community right down the middle of Main Street placing half of the Community in Mississippi, and leaving the remain half on the Louisiana side.

The Citizens of Wayward had no intention of dividing their Community in any way, shape or form so They had Wayward reclassified in the Federal Land Commission as a United States Territory like Guam or Puerto Rico. And by doing so this allowed the Wayward Community to stay united in spite of the Government implemented, and inforced State Line.

With the exception of Main Street there were no other paved roads in Wayward which instead was connected by an intricate network of Dirt Roads. The system of Dirt Roads bobbed, and weaved through out the dense forests, and along the various Swamplands of Wayward like a Ancient Spider Web.

Holt lived in an old dilapidated  Trappers Shack circa 1880 on the outskirts of of Wayward. The Locals referred to it as Hobgoblin Swamp. Being considered by most to be a highly undesirable place to live Holt was left on his own (aside from the stray Hunter/Trapper wondering through the Swamp in route elsewhere), and seemed to embrace the Isolation.

Holt had being living in His Trapper’s Shack in Hobgoblin Swamp as long as the Oldest Elder of Wayward could remember which only helped to fuel the rumors about Holt that ran through Wayward like a Wild Fire. And there were plenty believe you me.

There were the cliche Urban Legend Rumors such as Holt lived in isolation because He was a Drug Smuggler. Then there were others such as that Holt was an escaped Convict or Mental Patient hiding out in the Swamp. Some thought Holt was your garden variety Serial Killer who avoided detection (and capture) by committing His killings deep in the dark heart of Hobgoblin Swamp.

Other’s believed Holt was some sort of Immortal Swamp Shaman that chose to live in seclusion so He could practice His Dark Arts in the Shadows. Now not all of the Rumors were nearly as Dire.

Some though Holt was a Shell Shocked (PTSD) War Vet who had lost His sanity fighting on the Battle Field.  Others were inclined to think Holt was some how involved with/in the Witness Relocation Program, but weren’t sure if Holt was a Good Guy (like a Law Enforcement Officer) or a Criminal (as if Holt testified against dangerous Criminals in Court as part of a Plea Deal.)

The Rumor Mill even had a other Holt related Gossip. Holt drove a massive 1976 Ford M151  Military  Jeep which Holt had repainted in Battle Ship Gray. No one even entertained the idea Holt had just bought the fucking thing or perhaps got it from a Family Member or Friend (Though Holt didn’t seem to have either).

The Gossip about the Jeep was Holt stole it from a near by Military Base, The Military gave it to Holt as an accommodation for being a prolific Solider, Holt dredged part of Hobgoblin Swamp and salvaged the Jeep then, The Jeep belonged to one of Holt’s alleged Murder Victims, or the Jeep was stolen by Holt from some Drug Dealer/Gun Dealer/Human Trafficker after he killed them.

The other gaggle of Gossip surrounded Holts “Dog”. I put dog in Parenthesis because according to the various rumors it was considered anything BUT a Dog by the residents of Wayward. Holts dog was an undeniable Beast weighing in at right around 225 or so, and stood so high that Holt had to lift his hand from his side to pet its head while standing. It sure as shit wasn’t a pure bred anything, but rather it had a sort of Frankenstein aesthetic as if Holt had built the Dog Himself one late night alone in the Swamp.

This led to gossip from the Dog was a Holt’s Spiritual Totem, and that the Dog was a bonafide Hellhound Holt raised from a Pup once He rescued it from the clutches of the Devil Himself.  Others speculated the Dog was in fact a Hyena that Holt had acquired in some shady back ally manner. Still some thought it was a Russian Wolf Hyena Hybrid a sort of home bred make shift Monster.

Holt and His Hound were so tightly bonded that if they were both sitting out on the Front Porch of Their Trapper Shack when someone or thing approached Holt and the Hound would slowly turn to look in unison. Holt never had to use a single vocal command with His loyal companion as they seemed to communicate using just Their eyes alone.

No matter how much Holt may of enjoyed the quite isolation out there in Hobgoblin Swamp He still had his daily routine. Holts truck could be heard pulling onto Main Street every morning around 10 am.

Holt habitually parked his Shit Kicker Jeep in the same parking spot directly outside of Old Ed’s Hardware and Mercantile before exiting with purpose. He would then stride right over to Grover’s Guns’n Ammo to spend the rest of the morning mulling around the Gun Shop inspecting the wares so to speak.

At Noon Holt would leave Grover’s and walk over to The Greasy Spoon Diner arriving right at 12:30 for lunch. Holt ate only Steak and Eggs with Several cups of Coffee served black. It had reached a point long ago that The Staff at The Greasy Spoon got in the habit of preparing Holt’s Usual as it were  everyday without even thinking about it having it ready, and waiting upon His arrival.

After ravenously devouring his meal as though it was His last Holt would make His back over to Main Street. Holt would walk down one side, and back up on the other with a slow, and deliberate stride. By Three Holt was holed up at The Boozehound which served as the Local Watering Hole.

Holt would sit at the far end of the Bar facing the Door, and start the afternoon off drinking Budweiser. Once 5 o’clock hit cloaked in a cloud of Cigarette smoke (Holt had a penchant for Unfiltered Camels) Holt would switch from Beer to Bloody Mary’s (usually holding up 4 fingers to signify “Make it a Quadruple” a drink they would only make for the sole reason that Holt was the one asking.) Finally somewhere around 7ish Holt would switch one last time from Cocktail to Strait Booze, and Holt’s pick was 3 fingers of Maker’s Mark.

Holt would remain at The Boozehound until after closing as the staff had to clean and prep for the next day so they let Holt stay until they left. Once it was time to kill the lights the Bar Tender would hand Holt a pickled Egg propped up in a shot glass, which Holt would then throw back like an actual shot as He walked out into the night.

Since Holt came from a Strict School of  “Don’t speak until Spoken too” so normally He would just nod his head or flash a fleeting smile, but never spoke. There was an acceptation and that was when He was at The Boozehound nightly. Even then He didn’t Indulge in Idle Chit Chat or Engage in Gossip (another favorite Southern Past Time) the few times Holt did speak were more than memorable. Especially since what Holt said was as bizarre as Him talking in the first place.

Holt was noted as say things such as “Sure, Meet Up and We’ll fuck each other up with a Rubber Spoon”, “Smooth To The Groove Like Sandwich Bread.”, “Never Met One I didn’t want killed.”, “Death Comes Quickly For Those Who Wait”, “Guess he Killed By Death”, “Pay it Never-No Mind” and other such oddities.

Holt’s life had gone on in this fashion for more years than anyone could remember (Holt included) until one humid Summer day in 1980 all that changed forever.

That day had run on like any other swelteringly hot and horrendously humid Summer’s day complete with Holt arriving on Main Street around 10. Holt rummaged around Grover’s as he always did, and then He ate lunch at the Greasy Spoon before heading to The Boozehound. Holt’s routine remained the same until 5 o’clock.

Holt approached the Bartender Terry and ordered a Double Quadruple Bloody Mary. Terry baulked at such a extreme drink request, but obliged just the same as it was at Holt’s request. Terry made the drink, handed it to Holt who paid for it, and promptly exited The Boozehound.

Holt stood for a moment or two in front of The Boozehound before downing His Bloody Mary in one solitary swallow. He then lit an Unfiltered Camel, and took a long drag, and vanished into thin fucking air leaving nothing behind, but a lingering cloud of exhaled cigarette smoke.

 

THATS RIGHT KIDDIES!!!

Holt was the ONE Thing NO ONE Guessed the whole fucking time.

Holt was A BONAFIDE FUCKING ALIEN!!!!

SUCK ON THAT TITTY TWISTER OF A TWIST M.NIGHT!!!!!

Note to Reader : I started this piece and it didn’t turn out at all the way I wanted. Needless to say I got pissed off as a son of a bitch, BUT I couldn’t pull the fucking trigger and delete the thing. So as I was mulling this motherfucker over when this jumped into My mind:

………HE’S A FUCKING ALIEN. He’ll fucking just up and vanish end of fucking story. Why not the post already shit the bed so why not just take it out in a Blaze of Absurdist Angst.

ALSO just in case Anyone is Wondering I have no clue why I took a shot at M.Night considering I’m a fan of a few of his films.

Thanks for Reading,

 By Les Sober

We Don’t NEED a Sign.

Yesterday I along with My Mother drove My Brother and His Wife into the nearest City so They could utilize The Airport there to fly home. We went into the City early so We could have Lunch at some little Bistro that My Brother’s Wife had heard of (I forget if She had or hadn’t been there before or if She is just a real fucking Fan of Vietnamese Food), and wanted to eat at.

My Brother’s Wife is a bit more out on the Trendy curve of things, and NO She is NOT a Hipster thank fuck for that. She is in actuality quite awesome so just wanted to clarify that. So I was curious as a cracked out cat, BUT at the same time wary as shit that this was virtually uncharted waters for Me. I have had Vietnamese food only once or twice in My life and sadly with My aging memory can’t remember much about the food.

Anyways We drove into the working class neighborhood where the Place was located and found a place to park. We then walked about 4-5 blocks to the Bistro or whatever the fuck trendy title They identify Themselves as/with.

What is quite cool is that the Place (I hate trendy shit so I refuse to say Bistro, Gastropub, or Fusion as they are pretentious and inane) is housed in a some what renovated Corner Gas Station.  I say some what because while the Owners had full gutted the shit out of the inside and transformed it into a Hipster Clubhouse with a professional kitchen, the outside remained untouched.

The exterior while being rather plain and completely ordinary it was in need of some attention. The paint was severely cracked and chipping badly, the wore out sun bleached Logos and Advertising for the former Gas Station/ Garage were barely visible.

Another reason to mention the condition and aesthetic is due to the fact the Place is one of those Hipster “We’re so fucking cool We don’t need a Sign or any sort of exterior recognition whatsoever, and don’t Advertise because We’re old school word of mouth trendy Hot Spots so Fuck You.”

Thus if You didn’t know it was a place to eat You’d drive right the fuck past it as You would just immediately dismissed it (if You acknowledged it at all) as just another Abandoned Gas Station/Garage so in fact fuck Them.

We decided to sit outside under the awning that used to protect the Pumps and customer’s from Rain, but now Tables. Inside not only was unpleasing They were also fucking blaring some shitty Folk EMD Hybrid shit at Night Club Level for some ungodly reason.

The menu was small with only 6 items on it which I liked as I’m not too familiar with Vietnamese food, and thus wouldn’t be overwhelmed by a larger menu. In the end I tapped out and let My Brother pick for Me. I didn’t want to waste time lingering and loitering staring blankly at the menu as if all of a sudden it would be come clearer to me.

On the reverse side of the menu were the beverages. The first thing I noticed was the entire drink menu were Alcoholic. I have NO problem with Alcohol and am a fan of Beer, but not at 12:30 pm on a fucking Tuesday for fuck’s sake. What I found funny as fuck was at the very fucking bottom of the drink menu it said in tiny lettering “If You Would Like A NON-Alcholic Beverage Please Ask Your Waiter/Waitress”

I thought this was funny because People in general would expect it to be the other way around where one would have to ask for alcohol as the alternative. I also found it wildly fucking entertaining that at the bottom of the Food side of the menu it read again in tiny lettering:

Buy Kitchen a Beer- If you enjoyed your food & want a chance to do something nice for the kitchen staff.

I found myself wondering after reading the above “So what they whole staff splits a singular beer? That doesn’t seem very nice. And why only Kitchen Staff what about the fucking servers? What They don’t deserve a fucking free beer?! Bullshit.

I decided to play it say and stick with fucking water. I didn’t wan to waste ( fucking dollars on some crazy Asian soda/juice only to take a sip to find out I hated it. Fucking Hipster Prices.

The Food was really good and very fucking spicy which again I really thought was cool. The only thing I didn’t dig about are Server was One when You read of what you wanted He had to be a pretentious twat and repeated with its proper pronunciation in a condescending manner.

Two was when He asked “Would You like more water Bro?” I take issue with this because come on Guy “Bro “talk about un-fucking-professional. Also I HATE BEING CALLED BRO. I’m not Your Bro in any way shape or fucking form. I don’t want to be refereed to a Bro as I think Bros are complete pieces of human shit. Fuck You Bro, Fuck Bro, Fuck You.

In the end it was a good meal at a odd Hipster hangout with an excellent outside eating/seating area. The staff weren’t overtly dicks keeping the Douchebaggery to a minimum. They didn’t pipe the shitty Folk EMD music outside through speakers or what have You. The only down side was the aforementioned Hipster Prices which resulted in a fucking $92.49 bill for a basic Lunch deal.

Thanks for Reading,

 By Les Sober

Not All Swings Are For Children…

One of My Dearest Friends Mr. Matt (who died far too young) who wasn’t just a incredible Story Teller he also had some of the best Stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing.

I found Myself the other evening indulging in a few too many Beers and reminiscing about My time with Mr. Matt when I realized I could help immortalize Mr. Matt’s insane Stories by Posting them.

I then realized that since its been much longer than I can comprehend since the World Lost Mr. Matt and that I’m only getting Older if I was going to help preserve Mr. Matt’s Wonderful Tales I better start soon as possible.

Thats the only malfunction of Memory is that while it helps us remember our friends and Family etc. its designed to Fade, and I can’t in good conscience let these Terrific Tales fall by the wayside to be forgotten.

Mr. Matt and I shared a common confusion when it came to kids and communication. Thats to say We both liked kids its just when it comes to talking to kids it was an exercise in awkwardness.

I think its because kids have several behavioral/emotional/intellectual stages pertaining to their age, and its hard for me to tell what phase the child is in thus how to exactly relate to it. Let me explain a bit here.

The Stages as I understand them are basically this. First the kid is a “Newborn” then it transitions into an Infant. From there Kids evolve into Toddlers, and then the kid hits some shit called “The Terrible 2s” (which means your kid is going to be a real asshole so heads up)

Then the kid hits double digits turning 10, and I have no fucking clue what so fucking ever what the fuck the “Tween Years” are or about.

Then Puberty hits the Kid like a freight fucking Train and all hell started breaking loose like a real Shit Storm. I fully believe NO ONE can actually communicate with a Teenager THEIR RAGING ASSHOLES.

So without Further A do Here is Mr. Matt’s “Not All Swings Are For Children”

It was a fine fucking day in the sweltering Great Southern Swamp and Mr. Matt and His Partner were lounging about lazily sipping cocktails as they milled idly about the house.

Now there was at the time a little girl around the age of 5 or so who lived a few houses down the street from Mr.Matt who had become utterly infatuated by Mr. Matt and His Partner. She had started a habit of leaving little tokens and presents (like little crafts, a drawing so on and so forth) on their Welcome matt outside the front door.

Well apparently the Father of said Little Girl has decided to walk over to Mr. Matt’s house with his young daughter in tow. He wanted to see if the Neighbors were ok with his kid leaving presents outside their door daily (like a fucking Cat leaving you a dead mouse to help really make your morning.)

Mr. Matt and His Partner answered the door and invited the two inside for a quick social bullshit chat. The adults were standing around in a loose triangle formation discussing the topic of the Child’s obsessive present giving.

Things were going fine as the mundane chitchat rambled on until Mr. Matt looked down and noticed the Daughter was missing having wondered off to explore the rest of his house. Mr. Matt panicked though he hid it well.

You see Mr. Matt and His Partner had a “Adults Only” room in their house shall we say, and Mr. Matt realized instantly that the normally secured door to the “Adults Only” room had been carelessly left open.

Mr. Matt raced around the house as fast as he could without raising suspicion that is, and as one would imagine he found the Child inevitably in the “Adults Only” Room looking around all wide eyed and innocent.

Mr. Matt quickly collected the Little Girl and returned with her to the Living Room were Mr. Matt continued to chat all the while wondering what the fuck the kid might say or do since her brief adventure behind the curtain as it were.

Right as the conversation is winding down and the Father and his Young Daughter get ready to leave the kid announced excitedly

“Hey Daddy, They have a SWING in Their HOUSE!!!”

The moment of silence that followed was beyond awkward as I’m sure everyone there was scrambling around in their skulls trying to think of what possibly could they say or do about this surprise situation.

At last the Father looked down at his Young Daughter and replied

“Well Lets get you home and Bleached Off.”

And that was the last time Mr. Matt or His Partner ever saw either the Father nor His Daughter ever again.

The Presents Continued until the Family finally moved out of the area 2 years later.

Thanks for Reading,

 Les Sober