It was my birthday. Like all born creatures, I celebrate it once per year. So I was at the strip club and down to my last $40. Every birthday it’s the same thing. Except each year the price of lap dances goes up. And I find the drunker and more obnoxious I get, the more money I invariably end up being charged per dance. One girl kindly described it as “the asshole factor”
But in her case I had $300 on me and she factored that into her giving up the asshole. Anyway, that was a few years back… This year I’m at the bar and the room is spinning a bit. My friends left. It might be for good this time. My stupid mouth… I’ve got my cell phone and my $40 gripped tightly in one hand and my drink in the other. I feel my pocket with the back of my hand (cos I ain’t letting a damned thing go) and my keys are there. I’m veritably a king in his fucking kingdom, right?
No. Always some trouble. The sleeping dog does not get left to lie. The bear does get poked. Some asshole. You know the kind. They feel that just because they’re in a wheelchair I’ve got to let them disrespect me. He says “hey buddy, move your fucking stool – I can’t get past!” and I grip my cell phone so hard I think I heard it crack. Everyone I know has learned not to call me buddy. I guess some of us need to learn all our lessons anew.
Anyway, it wasn’t my cell phone I heard cracking….fuck, it’s his jaw. I hate when this shit happens – it’s so childish and it makes me look immature. People get the wrong impression. You know when you realize that screaming you’re hearing is you and the guys grabbing you are not actually attacking you but defending “innocent” people? Jesus, you’d think it would be out of my system by now, but no… every year it’s like rinse and repeat… if I wasn’t being attacked I’d be laughing because only a bitch screams like that. Anyway….
Then it starts to get lucid. It’s 3 guys. One is with him and the other two are Samaritans. But they ain’t good. Not by a long shot. I run in for a long shot. I double leg one of the guys and as I’m sitting on his chest meticulously rearranging his face with the viciousness, I realize what an idiot I am to be on the ground with yet two standing opponents! Fucking alcohol – this is #1 bullshit, but it’s too late! Shit, too much fkn MMA…. What was I thinking?? What difference does it make if I put this guy in a wheelchair if the other 2 can still walk and even put ME in a wheelchair?
Before I can get up and address their mobility, they’re addressing mine. Well, my lack of it. I should have never gone to the ground. I’m being stomped, kicked, chairs are falling on me. I note that my cell phone and $40 are lost… but I look reassuringly over at my other hand and realize that my drink is still in my firm grip. The joke’s on them…. When they’re done with their little fun I’ll still have a drink… and the last laugh…
….what a birthday…..
