blast from the past....I'm walkin here

The stinkin government just finished up a study that showed if you decide to walk home from the bar shitfaced, you’re most likely to get hit by a car. And if you’re old and shit, the probability increases ten-fold. Nothing says ouch like drunken grandpa stepping off the curb in front of the fuckin bus, so sad and so fuckin funny at the same time. And you hunters should pay a mind to this too. .

I know more guy’s that have gotten themselves up in a tree blind whilst waiting on Bambi to waltz by and while waiting starting sipping on the sloe gin to keep em warm. And when it came time to climb down they were too fucked up to remember how. Then its all about how well do you bounce. Word.

Back in the day I used to walk from my house to Westport, I’d knock off a few, ok; more then a few then walk home. My problem was that at two in the fuckin morning I’m walking home following the only thing my busted ass could see, and that happened to be the yellow line in the middle of the street. That was a sight to fuck up the straights; there I am looking like a big-assed junked up Mr. T, cause back then I was all geared out like that, walking down the middle of the street like I owned it.

Cars and shit swerving to the left and right to avoid hitting me or better yet, just turning around and going back in the direction they came from. But the cops finally broke me of that shit; they pulled up next to me one night and asked me where was I going. In my loud voice I politely informed em that I was going home, thank you very much.

“Why you walking down the middle of the street?”

“because I’m too drunk to drive duh?”

Did I also mention that back in the day I carried a cane with me everywhere? By that time two more cop cars had pulled up and they had me standing on the sidewalk.

“Why do you carry the cane?”

“It keeps my hands out’a my pockets”

“What?! Get your big ass over here!”

By this time I’m getting patted down while the one chick cop is busy trying to see if the cane turned into something else. After much talk they figured out I was on the level, and more or less harmless, so they told me I could go on home. But not without a stern talking too about the dangers that come with walking down the street shitfaced looking like some big assed yak out’a the wilderness. And oh yeah, the forty-five dollar traffic ticket helped convince me of the error of my ways too.


"and the monkey flipped the switch"