March 23, 2006
GONE CATFISHIN'
Sometimes, when the Muse o' Inspiration is off sucking on an exhaust pipe somewhere, I find it helpful to visit the site of the Great Unfiltered One his ownself, the estimable Catfish. Looky:
Back when I was married to my first wife, Nancy, we moved into a nice house on the southside of town. We had two great friends and neighbors next to us. Bumpy and Linda were very close to us. We shared a lot of things and went everywhere as a group. Bumpy and me use to go out drinking and golf while the girls went shopping and to movies. They were very good people. After knowing them for about three years, one night we were drinking black jack and getting pretty damn drunk. Bumpy told me that he wanted to fuck my wife, I then turned to him and said that I was thinking the same thing about Linda. We kept on drinking and talking, the next thing we were outside fist fighting each other. It was a bad fight, both of us had bloody noses and cuts all over out body. The girls came out and broke us up a few times and then we started fighting again. We both pasted out on the grass and when we wore the next morning, both of us could hardly move, he had blood all over his face and his hands were all cut up. He told me that I got the better part of him. The girls washed us up and asked what ever made us fight? We did not tell them. I think he wanted to screw my wife, but I was just teasing him about Linda. We stayed friends for about another six months and then I purchased a new home about three miles away. We lost our friends and I never missed them after that. Pussy can drive a man crazy, if you let it, CatI've taken the liberty of quoting this gentle little piece in its entirety, but you should, of course, read the original with that honkin' beautiful Feeyish looking down upon you from the masthead.
What I love about this post is not just the story itself - although a classic of the Drunken Fistfight genre - but the title, a title only Catfish would lay on it with a perfectly straight face.
"A Funny Story."
And yas, yas, indeed it is. Fuckin' hilarious...
Posted by at March 23, 2006 1:46 PMI have fought some men but I do not ride bulls.
My arms are red and so is my blood.
Back before I had crow's feet, I worked in a neighborhood bar in downtown Dallas. It wasn't a skeezy place. Most patrons were white-collar office types.
Two guys were regulars and good friends. They worked, I think, plumbing and electrical on a couple of the big buildings.
One night they drank deep into their cups, then went to one or the other's house. Some passes were made, words said, and the plumber was shot five times.
He survived, but spent a long time in Parkland hospital. He had five kids and a patient wife.
Similar thing, I think.
Posted by: Janis at March 25, 2006 1:46 PM