So, I’m out with this young lady and we’re at this bar/restaurant that is known for serving about ten thousand different kinds of beer. The bartender that waits on us is Mr. Full-of-Himself. Blathering on and on about his expertise in Belgian beer and his past experiences as an out of body experience or some shit that really doesn’t make any sense. So, after about five minutes he finally comes down to our end of the bar and waits on us only he doesn’t address me at all except when I order my beer. The whole time he is talking to the woman I’m with, only he’s not just being polite, he’s hitting on her. Smiling, and touching her hand and trying to impress her with his Belgian beer knowledge and inner nice guy. I don’t want to be rude but I wonder if this cocksucker notices me, yeah 190 pounds of lean muscle and growing anger sitting beside her because I’m about to grab him by the collar, pull him over the bar and beat the fucking shit out of him.
“Hey, cocksucker,” I say. “There’s people at the other end of the bar that look like they have a real thirst for a Belgian Beer.”
His mouth drops open. “What?”
“You heard me fruit cup, the two single (emphasis on the word single) ones at the end of the bar.
“Right,” he says angrily.
“Hey, and another thing just remember that the only thing separating me from you is air.”
He turns and walks away.
“What an asshole,” the woman I was with said. “Couldn’t he see I was with you?”
“I think he can now,” I say and slam my first beer.
5 comments:
Ah yes, your patented use of the term "cocksucker." Love it.
And the no-tip rule went into effect I'm guessing. Except maybe the tip of a couple of your knuckles.
i like the air comment. very nice.
Who says chivalry is dead.
ha! awesome, man. truly awesome.
Sounds like his brains went straight to his dick.
I remember those days but I was never that bad.
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