small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: blast from the past

Monday, May 9

blast from the past

I’m at the Cane yakking at Steve and Kyle when we hear a commotion at the door. There’s this strange looking couple trying to get into the bar, but for the life of me they can’t seem to get the unlocked door open. They finally figure out that its pull to open and in they come. Its 110 fuckin degrees in the shade and this one muthafucker walks in wearing a studded leather biker jacket all done up in old school punk fashion. As a matter of fact his whole getup was straight out of “How to dress fashionably Punk, circa 1980’s”.

He was even sporting the multi colored Mohawk. The chick with him was dressed in your basic black. But she had this killer red hair and stood well up on six feet in her socks. A very attractive package if I can say so. We found out that they were from Germany and were traveling the country on motorcycle. It seems that they were on a mission to meet punks across the US of A, and the one cat was so bummed that all he could find so far in KC were cowboys and rednecks. (his words, not mine) Go figure. The chick turned out to be his sister and she seemed pretty much on the cool side, but he was all about shoving the “punk” attitude down our throats.

Little did he realize that I ran with the punks back in the day and that Kyle was just a punk freak with a nice shirt and haircut and then you had Steve, “Mr. Bleed all over the stage”. So I can truthfully say we weren’t impressed with the posing. Plus the not understanding what the fuck they were saying in German thing was sort’ a frustrating. But Steve played the Man and gave em one of his S2R CD’s and told them that their best bet to punk out was the El Torreon Ballroom . After a while they caught on that we were more interested in the movie playing on the big screen then listing to them ramble on in German, and they split.

So we’re sitting watching the movie when all of a sudden the Halleluiah Chorus opens up and a bolt of lighting splits the sky and this woman appeared on the sidewalk in front of the bar. I hate to get all ghetto and shit, but this chick was the proverbial cat’s meow. We were stunned by the sight of this woman. She had skills, and her “very well filled” black lace top just made the day brighter. After preening and stretching on the sidewalk for a few seconds, She and her boyfriend came into the bar, and it just got better close up.

But we were cool and composed like the gentlemen we are. But little did she know that we three were masters of the “look without looking”. Her boyfriend must’a been a former master cause he was fully aware of what we were doing and as long as we kept our distance he stayed at ease. Plus I got the impression that she kept the balls in that relationship. German Punks, bad movies and badass chicks make a Tuesday afternoon at the Cane worthwhile.

I used to have this 800 number that you’d call when the mental levy broke. The phone would ring and people on the other end would start chanting and humming and shit. I fuckin kid you not. It was supposed to diffuse anger and calm a cat down. It was given to me back in the day as a joke, but I actually knew people that had a “safety number” to call and I always wondered. Well I could’a used a safety number yesterday. All week at work I’ve been getting kicked in the balls by a bunch of evil changes going on. So since when is it a fetish thing to get sucker punched in the nutsac?

We were talking about this last night at the Cane. There’s a growing number of videos on the web showing men getting kicked in the nuts by chicks with high heels. Maybe I’m not enlightened, but I just can’t see this quirky little fad catching on. And it’s really been affecting my mood. So I leave work early yesterday to renew my car tags and catch a break. I decide to drive up to Grandview, Mo cause they’re set up to where I can do everything in the same building. But I was so distracted by shit going on at work that I ended up driving thirty miles in the wrong direction! I eventually made it there and got everything done, but by then I was pissed. I make it back to Westport and decide to get a few things from the grocery store before I went up to the Cane, cause I’m really feeling the need for a bad movie and a drink.

I do my do and I notice this elderly women sitting in her car as I come out and I figure she must be waiting on someone. But as I’m pulling out of my space she’s trying to get my attention. It seems that her car won’t start. No telling how long she’d been sitting there in the hotass heat trying to flag someone down. Poor woman, hell, if she popped eighty pounds wet I’d be surprised, and she had to be pushing seventy five easily. I thought it was pretty fucked up that the second I leaned into her car window to see what was up, suddenly four or five people showed up wanting to know what was going on.

Fuckin pious rat bitches! The old lady was pretty unhinged, she kept telling me what she thought was wrong with her car while I kept telling her to calm down and take it easy. I got her calmed down long enough to tell her that her car seemed to be flooded and if she would unass the seat I’d get her on her way. Well, I didn’t say unass the seat but she got my drift. Just because you’re old don’t make you slow.

I was able to squeeze one leg and an arm into her car and I got it started. Talk about your happy senior citizen, if she had blessed me anymore I could’a qualified for sainthood easily. There were also two very hot chicks nearby who had watched the whole thing. The kept telling me what a nice guy I was and that it was a very cool thing I did. (yeah but they weren’t coming off no ass were they?) Anyway I would’a made my own age’ed mother proud. I guess a good deed makes a bad day better huh?

"and the monksy flipped the switch"


Blogger Nightmare said...

What no tales of naked beach standing?

2:25 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home