Bar Fight plus Kubrick equals Good Times

*just so you know, I tried posting this at 4:00 this afternoon, but was down.  Shit happens.*

Quick note from me:

Mistake #3- Uses 0 tags

I’ve remedied that problem as well.  Now here’s Gloria:

I understand Monteclaire’s been pointing out numerous mistakes I’ve made while blogging.  Normally I might be pissed, but I’ve been having so much goddamned fun I couldn’t give a hoot.  Tell you what.  What with the time difference I couldn’t possibly keep you updated as shit goes down, so I’ll just tell you from the start like I was writing a short story.  This’ll be the first installment.  Okay.

We strolled into the bar.  John, Matt, Luke, Peter, J. Dog, the horny ghost, and me.  All eyes fell on us.  We took it in stride and sat down for a drink.

“Little slow in here tonight, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes it is, Mr. Torrence,” the bartender replied.

“Uh, name’s Farmer.”

“What’ll it be?”  He said, ignoring my correction.

“I’m awfully glad you asked me that, Lloyd (his name tag said Lloyd).  ‘Cause I just happen to have two $20’s and two $10’s right here in my wallet.  I was afraid they were gonna be there till next April.  So here’s what.  You slip me a bottle of bourbon, a little glass, and some ice.”  I said.  Then I looked behind me and remembered I was with people.  “Oh, and 6 more glasses too.  You can do that, can’t you Lloyd?  Not too busy, are ya?  Heh heh heh heh.”

“No sir, not busy at all,” he said, smirking.

“Good man!”  I said enthusiastically.  “You set em up and I’ll knock em back, Lloyd, one by one.”  He set the glasses on the bar and started pouring.  I said “White man’s burden, Lloyd, my man.  White man’s burden.”  My team was looking at me kind of funny at this point.  I opened my wallet and realized I’d already spent my money on a kick-ass mummy action figure at the gift shop.  “Say lloyd…it seems I’m temporarily light,” I said, hoping to alleviate the situation.  “How’s my credit in this joint, anyway?”

“Oh,” he said, “I’m afraid now we’re gonna have to kick your ass.”  He lept over the bar and we all jumped back as he started displaying some sweet ass moves with a large, Thor-like hammer.

“Stand back guys.  I got this,” I said smugly.  What ensued was at once an ugly fight and a beautiful dance between two fighting masters.  Strange thing was we kept talking.  I don’t know what the hell it was about or who said what, but it went something like, “How are things going, Mr. Torrance?  Things could be better Lloyd.  Things could be a whole lot better,” I jumped into his spin-kick and he knocked me into a wall,  “I hope it’s nothing serious.  No.  Nothing serious.  Just a little problem with the, uh…old sperm bank upstairs.  Nothing I can’t handle, though.  Thanks.”  I threw a throwing knife into his arm and he roared at the ceiling as he charged me, “Women.  Can’t live with them.  Can’t live without them.  Words of wisdom, Lloyd.  Words of…wisdom.”

The fight ended kind of strangely.  He got hold of an ax and I ran out of the bar and into a hedge maze (not sure what a hedge maze was doing in the desert).  He chased after me and then it started snowing.  After a few hours I got outta there.  I never did see him come out.  Someone should probably check to see if he’s alright.

That was all on Sunday.  A lot has happened since then, let me tell you.  And our two competing excavation teams haven’t even started digging yet.  Let’s just say “Philip the Fair’s” team has had some…trouble.  Heh heh heh.

Stock tip of the day: buy Toyota.  Monteclaire out.


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