Sitting in the Hurricane having a hot coffee, it’s me, Mito, Sonya and Chris. We’re all shooting on each other when Chris announces that the crazy karate guy is doing his thing on Monkey Island across the street. For those of you that need your memory’s jogged, Monkey Island is the area across the street from the Hurricane that has the stone benches and the statues of the Westport founders. I call it Monkey Island because all the local bums hang there during the nice weather passing the bottle back and forth. And it always reminds me of the place at our local zoo where they used to keep all the small monkeys and shit. It’s a dominance thing if you get my drift. Monkeys fling shit at each other and so do the bums. Well, anyway we all rushed the windows and I was treated to the sight of a shirtless muthafucker facing off against his imaginary foe in a duel to the death. He was a swinging kicking circle of death I’m here to tell ya, except for the obvious fact that he didn’t know a shitting thing about martial arts. Fuck, my fat ass could kick higher, but he must’s been getting his ass kicked cause he kept getting madder and madder. Even when the cats from the head shop across the street fruited his ass he never flinched from his invisible quarry. Yeah, this cat ran out of the head shop and launched what I swear had to be a fuckin cantaloupe at the cocksucker’s head. Karate boy just kept on fighting, God bless America, and he sure must favor the stupid. Peace