I woke up, ringing in my ears, queasiness in my stomach, and a pounding in my head from the night before. I got out of bed, scratched my back with a hacksaw and shaved my face with a rusty razor, remembering how I got in this condition:
There I was, alone at the bar. So I decided to call Arnold Slick, from Turtle Crick. While waiting I started a conversation with a lovely lady named Loretta. She was smilin’ like a butcher’s dog. Sam and Arnold walked in; mad as hell, at his wife again. “She wants to sell my monkey!” he shouted. “Buy Sam a drink and get his dog one too!” I said, trying to ease the tension.
We were hungry; I asked Loretta, “How much fried chicken can you eat?” But the bar tender said he was out of chicken and the kitchen is closed!
The door slammed open, in walked trouble. Oh no, Eddie Spaghetti! He walks straight up to Arnold and he picked his pocket like he was walking down 5th Avenue. Great balls of fire! Arnold spun around and beat him like a rented mule! Oh my, he was hit so hard his kids will be born dizzy! Eddie swung back. Look out Loretta! He just missed her and caught Arnold on the jaw. He smoked him like a bad cigar! You would have to be here to believe it!
It was definitely time to go. “Get in the fast lane Grandma, the bingo game’s ready to roll! ” I yelled to Loretta. Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has just left the building! The police were entering as we were leaving. The last thing I heard was “Book ’em Dano”. We got on my Michael, Michael, Motorcycle, the new design from Harley, and sped from the scene. We left the defensemen on the parkway going to the airport! Loretta was holding me tight, and she whispered in my ear, “ I left my boyfriend for you. He was a mess when I left. He doesn’t know whether to cry or wind his watch!”
In my mind I said, “Heeeeeeeeeeeee shoots and scores!“
Back at the house, we sat in the kitchen, finished a bottle of dark rum and I wanted to take the heat out of a hot kitchen. We made our way to the bedroom; I was feeling a little strange. “Oh slap me silly Sidney”, I said. She took me literally, thinking I thought she was some girl named Sidney. Well, I’ll be cow-kicked!! I passed out from the booze and the blows to the head.
So here I am, alone, looking out the window, wishing it were hockey season, and listening to Mike Lange, spinning his charm over a hockey game.
“Get that dog off my lawn!”
