BAR
A couple of seasons ago, while halfway through some stupid exam period, without any blood leakage –no, strike that, with blood, forming on foreheads- my peeps and I headed down this local bar yo! Since we were going to a “rock” bar (called Rockless), let me rephrase that last one and say, my metal brothers and I headed down this local bar *guitar string squealing*!.
We enter the aforementioned shithole, I spew a few scattered Hellos here and there, I was after all one of the regulars, rearrange my steel balls (let’s face it they’re humongous) and sit down to the uncomfortable, scrummed stools. We were there to get drunk, so screw any inconveniences. Pressured from endless nights of studying in my overheated, windowless room, I finally felt free to vent. And I drunk like a motherfucker (yes, your mother too! ). We were laughing and downing tequila shots, rum and whisky like Kiefer Sutherland on Church day. I was already “freed” from 50 pounds worth of drinks, and suddenly, the cd-player’s laser lens caressed with its gentle beam over AC/DC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. And yes, I did go somewhat “overboard”. And by overboard I really mean apeshit, and by somewhat you just know I mean totally. I started headbanging, dipped my hair into neighboring beers, sprayed it to the opposite direction, shouted the lyrics at the top of my lungs (along with some of my famous alternated lyrics including once again, your mother) and then I may have punched the owner right in the soy hole. Ok, if I had done all these, then yes, send your lame waitress to “warn” me of an imminent expulsion. But all I did was to sing lively the lyrics and headbang benignly at my little corner. Oh, and by the way, all you people who know me personally, thinking: “There’s no way you only did that,” SHUT THE FUCK UP! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
So yeah, that’s what happened and they dared telling me to behave? They gladly accept my 50 pounds, getting me drunk over my head, THEN they put Bon Scott’s kickass voice on and they expect me to sit down and clap? Fuck no. I’m ripping this place apart. Which I did, when I gradually grew mad and started punching the crappy stools, until my knuckles bled, broke two mirrors (turning my cherubic reflection into twenty) and slapped a couple of bystanders. The way I saw it, if I was going to be blamed for indecent behavior anyway, I might as well deserve it. They had to drag us out, screaming and naked (oh yeah, I forgot about that, haha!…).
Once outside, we walked proudly to our cars, somewhat cold, while my schlong shriveled beyond all recognition. It vaguely resembled a giraffe’s neck anymore (only longer, of course).
"Virgin" Mary: Of course.
Then the piggy police arrived, threats were made, guns were unholstered, long story short: The trial’s on the 26th :)