THE GROUPIE FROM HELL...Part II
I wished like hell I knew how to change the order of my posts! My last story took FIVE installments to get finished and I had people reading the damned thing "back to front". What a concept!
Hell, it might be better that way...I don't know.
Anyway.....back to our story..........
Everyone within earshot of the bar was "losing it".
Just watching Lisa stalk off was hilarious!
She got halfway through the room, bumped into a huge bald headed old dude seated at a table, and staggered to a semi-stop.
Placing her hands on her hips, she did that wierd "black chick neck thing" and said,
"Ohhhh no.....you ain't gotta chance at this motherfucker! I'm HIS!" she screeched.
Like a crazy assed, gash mouthed, Uncle Sam poster, the demented bitch was pointin' directly at me.
I was friggin' mortified. I just wanted it to stop.
All I could think was...
Why ME God? Why does this crazy shit always happen to me? It really does you know.
Well, the big old bald dude immediatly turned to look at me. He slowly got up looking PISSED and started toward me.
I gave him a sheepish, "What the hell did I do" look.
John hopped off his barstool and rushed to stand between us.
"Sir, you'ins gotta forgive Ron's "Ole Lady". She just got out 'da hospital the other day. You'ins seen her face did'nt ya?" he scrunched up his face at the very thought of it.
Unfazed, the old dude still looked pissed.
"Come on man...have a heart!!" John walked over and placed his hand on the big man's shoulder.
"Mister..... Ron's 'lil boy perished in that acci-dent" he was actually wiping away an imaginary tear.
John turned and shot me sly grin. He was looking proud of himself... as though he'd settled the matter.
I was ready to kill the little prick.
Believe it or not, the old guy was STILL pissed off!
Side Note:
Now, I ask you...What kind of prick could still be pissed off at a poor guy like me who had, allegedly, just lost a son and GAINED.....a hideously disfigured "Ole Lady"?
A big old Yankee prick....that's who!
I digress.....
Unimpressed by my recent, albeit fictitous, personal tragedy, the Yankee got LOUD as, of course, Yankees will do every now and so often.
Sorry...another side note here:
Have ya'll ever noticed how a Yankee can whisper, "I love you" and somehow, it comes out sounding more like....
"Why doncha go FAWK urself ya fawkin' Jag-awv?"
Yeah...me too....maybe it's an "inflection" deal. Hell, I don't know.
Sorry....back to the infuriated Yankee bastard old dude.
"I wanna see the manager and I wanna see him right fawkin' NOW!" (it's hard to type in Yankee-ese folks but, I'm tryin'.)
I spoke up.
"Listen mister, that woman ain't my "Ole Lady" and you've got no call to get all crazy about it anyway. The poor girl's drunk.Why don't you sit back down and finish your meal?"
See? I can do diplomatic.
"How 'bout if I kick your fawkin' ass ya fawkin' Jag-awv?" he was screaming now.
In the midst of this guy's tirade, John speaks up.....AGAIN.
Kill me now.
"Sir, 'scuse me a second, I hate to interupt, I truly do but,...... what the fuck is a "Jag-awv"? John asked.
I swear, the old man looked as though he was gonna have a stroke when he turned to John and told him to stay out of it.
Not one to be deterred by good sense, John put on a pained expression.
"Sir....I'm jus' tryin' to get all this shit straight for the po-lice report. I'm a profesh-nal journ-list and enquirin' minds has GOT to know....what in the name of hell is a Jag-awv?"
"Fawk you!" the old dude was trembling now.
John, not missing a beat, adopted a beligerent demeanor and, with a straight face said,
"No sir!! Fuck You'ins!"
Everyone in the place was roaring with laughter and applauding John's performance.
Of course, John was eating it up. He was definately in his element.
My head was about to explode!
I was witnessing a "Clash of Cultures" right before my eyes as John strolled back to his barstool like Clarence friggin' Darrow closing a case.
We were all howling at John's antics.
Everyone except George.
Ole George finished his Crown and ginger, carefully placed his glass down on the bar, got off his bar stool and walked slowly over to where the old guy was standing.
"Who the fawk are you?" Yankee man asked.
Did I mention that George had a pathelogical hatred for anyone bigger than himself especially if they possessed a big mouth?
And.... did ya'll know by chance, that George ALSO hated Yankees?
Oh yeah....the shit was ON!
We had all seen it before so... pretty much, we just settled in to watch the show.
George was a good foot shorter, 100 lbs lighter and, not much younger than the Yankee guy but George was in good shape for his age.
Well...if you took away all the heavy drinkin' till four in the morning every night, the smoking of two packs a day and of course, the crappy food he ate all the time....George was in great shape....for his lifestyle.
Aw shit.... the truth is that George was all to hell... but.... he looked great, carried multiple weapons, could fight like a miniature Chuck Norris and was a MEAN little fucker when provoked.
Evidently, George was sufficiently provoked.
"Sir...I'm the owner of this establishment. How may I help you?" he asked politely.
The mad Yankee relaxed a bit.
"Did you see what just happened?"
"Yes sir I did." George said.
"Well, what are you gonna do about it?"
George gave him a wicked smile.
"I'm gonna give you two minutes to pay your check, tip your waitress well and get the fuck out of here."
"And if I don't?" the old Yankee guy asked.
George smiled and pulled out a big assed pistol from the back of his jeans.
"Listen asshole, you're in the mountains of North fawkin' Carolina...I've got a legal gotdamned right to shoot your fat ass just 'cause you talk funny!"
The man started to say something when, all of the sudden, he crumpled to his knees.
Standing there, with a beer mug in her hand stood Lisa.
I swear....I ain't making this shit up.
While the poor old cranky Yankee dude was struggling to regain his wits and his wife was trying to help him, crazy assed Lisa just stood there, holding a beer mug.....smiling that hideous smile.
After a second or two she looked at me and said. And I quote......
"I don't like him!" looking down at the groggy Yankee man.
"I like YOU Ron....are you gonna play me some more songs?"
John looked at me and said, with a deadpan grin.
"Damn son, I believe it's time for you'ins to pick a gotdamn tune."
To Be Continued.... Again.
Hell, it might be better that way...I don't know.
Anyway.....back to our story..........
Everyone within earshot of the bar was "losing it".
Just watching Lisa stalk off was hilarious!
She got halfway through the room, bumped into a huge bald headed old dude seated at a table, and staggered to a semi-stop.
Placing her hands on her hips, she did that wierd "black chick neck thing" and said,
"Ohhhh no.....you ain't gotta chance at this motherfucker! I'm HIS!" she screeched.
Like a crazy assed, gash mouthed, Uncle Sam poster, the demented bitch was pointin' directly at me.
I was friggin' mortified. I just wanted it to stop.
All I could think was...
Why ME God? Why does this crazy shit always happen to me? It really does you know.
Well, the big old bald dude immediatly turned to look at me. He slowly got up looking PISSED and started toward me.
I gave him a sheepish, "What the hell did I do" look.
John hopped off his barstool and rushed to stand between us.
"Sir, you'ins gotta forgive Ron's "Ole Lady". She just got out 'da hospital the other day. You'ins seen her face did'nt ya?" he scrunched up his face at the very thought of it.
Unfazed, the old dude still looked pissed.
"Come on man...have a heart!!" John walked over and placed his hand on the big man's shoulder.
"Mister..... Ron's 'lil boy perished in that acci-dent" he was actually wiping away an imaginary tear.
John turned and shot me sly grin. He was looking proud of himself... as though he'd settled the matter.
I was ready to kill the little prick.
Believe it or not, the old guy was STILL pissed off!
Side Note:
Now, I ask you...What kind of prick could still be pissed off at a poor guy like me who had, allegedly, just lost a son and GAINED.....a hideously disfigured "Ole Lady"?
A big old Yankee prick....that's who!
I digress.....
Unimpressed by my recent, albeit fictitous, personal tragedy, the Yankee got LOUD as, of course, Yankees will do every now and so often.
Sorry...another side note here:
Have ya'll ever noticed how a Yankee can whisper, "I love you" and somehow, it comes out sounding more like....
"Why doncha go FAWK urself ya fawkin' Jag-awv?"
Yeah...me too....maybe it's an "inflection" deal. Hell, I don't know.
Sorry....back to the infuriated Yankee bastard old dude.
"I wanna see the manager and I wanna see him right fawkin' NOW!" (it's hard to type in Yankee-ese folks but, I'm tryin'.)
I spoke up.
"Listen mister, that woman ain't my "Ole Lady" and you've got no call to get all crazy about it anyway. The poor girl's drunk.Why don't you sit back down and finish your meal?"
See? I can do diplomatic.
"How 'bout if I kick your fawkin' ass ya fawkin' Jag-awv?" he was screaming now.
In the midst of this guy's tirade, John speaks up.....AGAIN.
Kill me now.
"Sir, 'scuse me a second, I hate to interupt, I truly do but,...... what the fuck is a "Jag-awv"? John asked.
I swear, the old man looked as though he was gonna have a stroke when he turned to John and told him to stay out of it.
Not one to be deterred by good sense, John put on a pained expression.
"Sir....I'm jus' tryin' to get all this shit straight for the po-lice report. I'm a profesh-nal journ-list and enquirin' minds has GOT to know....what in the name of hell is a Jag-awv?"
"Fawk you!" the old dude was trembling now.
John, not missing a beat, adopted a beligerent demeanor and, with a straight face said,
"No sir!! Fuck You'ins!"
Everyone in the place was roaring with laughter and applauding John's performance.
Of course, John was eating it up. He was definately in his element.
My head was about to explode!
I was witnessing a "Clash of Cultures" right before my eyes as John strolled back to his barstool like Clarence friggin' Darrow closing a case.
We were all howling at John's antics.
Everyone except George.
Ole George finished his Crown and ginger, carefully placed his glass down on the bar, got off his bar stool and walked slowly over to where the old guy was standing.
"Who the fawk are you?" Yankee man asked.
Did I mention that George had a pathelogical hatred for anyone bigger than himself especially if they possessed a big mouth?
And.... did ya'll know by chance, that George ALSO hated Yankees?
Oh yeah....the shit was ON!
We had all seen it before so... pretty much, we just settled in to watch the show.
George was a good foot shorter, 100 lbs lighter and, not much younger than the Yankee guy but George was in good shape for his age.
Well...if you took away all the heavy drinkin' till four in the morning every night, the smoking of two packs a day and of course, the crappy food he ate all the time....George was in great shape....for his lifestyle.
Aw shit.... the truth is that George was all to hell... but.... he looked great, carried multiple weapons, could fight like a miniature Chuck Norris and was a MEAN little fucker when provoked.
Evidently, George was sufficiently provoked.
"Sir...I'm the owner of this establishment. How may I help you?" he asked politely.
The mad Yankee relaxed a bit.
"Did you see what just happened?"
"Yes sir I did." George said.
"Well, what are you gonna do about it?"
George gave him a wicked smile.
"I'm gonna give you two minutes to pay your check, tip your waitress well and get the fuck out of here."
"And if I don't?" the old Yankee guy asked.
George smiled and pulled out a big assed pistol from the back of his jeans.
"Listen asshole, you're in the mountains of North fawkin' Carolina...I've got a legal gotdamned right to shoot your fat ass just 'cause you talk funny!"
The man started to say something when, all of the sudden, he crumpled to his knees.
Standing there, with a beer mug in her hand stood Lisa.
I swear....I ain't making this shit up.
While the poor old cranky Yankee dude was struggling to regain his wits and his wife was trying to help him, crazy assed Lisa just stood there, holding a beer mug.....smiling that hideous smile.
After a second or two she looked at me and said. And I quote......
"I don't like him!" looking down at the groggy Yankee man.
"I like YOU Ron....are you gonna play me some more songs?"
John looked at me and said, with a deadpan grin.
"Damn son, I believe it's time for you'ins to pick a gotdamn tune."
To Be Continued.... Again.
posted by Rantin' Ron | 7:36 PM
5 Comments:
ron...you get into more shit than flies...i suggest a change of life style or new fucking friends...
plus there is a way to change the order of your posts..when you do your post and get ready to press the post button..right over it to the left is a comment yadayada thing and push it and a time change is there..you can put the time and date that you want..like if your last post the one that was actually the first post you just change the time and date to make it first and then the next post a later time..did that make sense...?
and you still ain't gettin no pussy at the end of that night..
Damn Son, I wanta see a picture of you! If you look good enough for all these women to fall all over you I want a pic for my screen saver.....Not that I would stalk you or anything but us girls like a bit of eye candy now and then
Thanks Jackie...I THINK I've got...maybe.
Believe me...I DID change my lifestyle AND most of my friends.
JuneBug...
I'd like to say that I WAS that good lookin' but NOBODY is good lookin' enough to cause that woman to act like she did. She was a freakin' nutcase!
You know how I always do that "he or she looks like a cross between" thing when describing someone?
Well, I USED to look like a cross between Dan Haggerty, Kurt Russell and maybe a dash of Kenny Rogers.
NOWADAYS, I look like a cross between Dan Dierdorf, John Goodman and a big friggin' unmade bed!
Not a pretty picture but...Michelle still loves me anyway. I think she believes that my old looks will come back someday! Poor delusional girl.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I don't know what be the funniest..the tale or the comments.
Awwww, come on Ron, did you play her another song? :)
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