One Night at the Bar

December 5, 2005 in Short Stories

I remember this one night at the bar, now keep in mind the details of this story might be a bit sketchy…like I said I was a the bar. Anyhow there I was sitting next to my good friend Doug, I thought this was weird because he was my good friend, yet I had never met him…once again I was at a bar.

I was drinking Coors Light like I always do when all of a sudden I heard this girl order a “Wet Pussy.” All I could do was laugh, not because I’m immature and cannot handle hearing the name of a legitimate drink…but the whole thing was just ridiculous. She looked at me and said “What’s so funny?” I replied with “You don’t DRINK a wet pussy.”

Anyhow this barn was built like a brick shit house and twice as small. I sat alone inside counting the number of cracks in the ceiling only to find that my mind was slowly starting to slip away. I don’t know why my mind would be slipping away, you’ve read my stories…I don’t seem insane to you do I?

But the truck wouldn’t come to a stop and I ended up hitting some kid named…hell…for the sake of this story it is Brent. I hit Brent head on with my scooter and he fell over and scraped his knee. Brent was “special” so he had knee-pads and a helmet on so he wasn’t hurt. It was indeed my skateboard that took a turn for the worse when I went head on with the Mercedes.

Once again Doug looked at me and slurred “I love you man.” It was then I knew he was way too drunk…because the first 72 times he said it I just thought he was gay, but everyone knows that if a man at a bar tells another man that he loves you more than 72 times that he is officially drunk…it is the unspoken law of “god damn this mother fucker is sloshed.”

I bowled a perfect game only to find out we were playing golf and no one had bothered to tell me. I had to ask this guy if “my pussy smelled like breath” and he told me that if I ever said that to him again he would smack me upside the head with a large salmon. I’m all like “whoa dude, I was just asking if you could pass the ashtray.” Then I found out why he was so disgruntled when he told me his life story and how he had lost his left testicle to a tragic pencil sharpener accident.

Finally I got home from the pond where I had been fishing. It had been a rather unsuccessful day but I did manage to find 2 good deals on shirts and pick up a new sexually transmitted disease from an albino frog named Trixie.

And that my friends is how you bake a cake.

Moral of the story: If you ever doubt yourself just remember that there is someone else out there searching the stars for the meaning of lint.