I got a church down the street from me, one of them Protestant churches that has services on Saturday nights when good people are already out drinkin’ and chasing pussy around the bar. As y’all probably know I don’t trust nobody that don’t drink at least a little here and there, and I sure don’t trust nobody that goes to a church on a Saturday night. Goin’ to church on a Saturday night is sacrilege I say.
If you go to God’s house on a Saturday night, you ain’t doing no better than folks who piss on a grave in my eyes. Saturday night is for drinkin’ and getting’ drunk, and God knows it cause he made it that way. Why the hell would the good lord have made it Saturday night if he didn’t want folks getting drunk and havin’ a good time? Don’t make no sense. If he wanted us to be in Church every God-damned day he would have made em all Sunday. Then I’d always know what day it was too.
So they throwed me out of the Union bar a little early this Saturday night. Usually they let me stick around until at least eight O’clock, but I guess I was carousing a bit and I hit a fella with a chair and kicked a lady in the crotch, so I guess it was time to head outside and get me some air. Boy that lady was mad too! Acted like she was better than everybody else, talking in a British accent and drinking coffee and acting like she didn’t never have a drink or two, so she got what was coming to her.
It started because she said something about having nine children, which bothered me quite a lot. I mean we have an overpopulation problem and this bitch is having nine kids? That ain’t right. Well I wandered over to her table after I heard that and said “Did I hear you right miss, that you bore nine children into this world?”
“Yes sir I did, nine wonderful children.” She says and smiles like she’s so proud of the fact that she could get a man to keep banging her after she had the first eight kids and had lady parts that probably looked like a toad got smashed on the road. I was not impressed.
Ain’t you ever heard of a blowjob? Or the pill?” I asked, not wanting to piss her off, just curious. “Your snatch ain’t a fucking clown car lady, kids shouldn’t be piling out of that thing at such a rate. We got a population problem.”
She surprised me by standing up out of her chair and facin’ me down like she was gonna read me a riot act or something, and started ranting about my language and how she wouldn’t stand for it and what would I do if her husband was here? Well I told her if her husband was here I would do the world a favor and kick his balls up between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t shoot no more seed into that gaping cavern between her legs.
She didn’t take kindly to that, which I guess is pretty reasonable. She started to shout at me louder and those of you that live in the neighborhood probably know how I respond to shouting. I kicked her right in the crotch like I was kickin’ off at the Super Bowl, and she fell right to the ground gasping and wheezing. She also shut the fuck up, which I thought was excellent , but the bartender was still mad as hell.
Well after they put me out I got me a bottle of Cisco at the store down the road and wandered down by the church to holler at the heathens comin’ out of it. It’s amazing how easy those people get offended. Just yell “It’s Saturday night you cretins, this is Drink’s Day, get the hell out of God’s house and come on out and have a sip or two” and they go scurrying for their cars.
Well I had chased em off enough the last few weeks, so I messed with em a little different this week. As they was walkin’ out I called em over in groups and told em my favorite religious jokes, which all start with me holding my arms out like Jesus on the cross and askin’ “What’s this?”
Them fools almost all answered “Jesus on the Cross” and was wrong every time. The answers was all things like –
“Where you end up stuck if you forget your safe word in Jerusalem.”
And…
“A shitty way to spend Easter weekend.”
And…
“The wrong time to forgot your Gold Bond, can you scratch my nuts for me?”
Of course a couple of em wanted to save me and convert me, and I don’t reason with people like that, you just can’t never talk sense into em’. I just screamed when they came too close and started hollering “RAPE! HELP! RAPE!” which usually gets people to leave me be.
The police stopped by after a while and asked me about the lady in the Union Bar, and said she was still pretty shook up and wasn’t walking right. I asked if that boot to the babymaker seemed to have warmed up her attitude any and they said it really had not and that she was pretty angry with me. I got to go to court on the assault charge on next Tuesday and the boys said if I wrote about it they would make a shirt and try to sell it and see if they couldn’t get me a lawyer or at least help me out with the fines
I guess you better buy a shirt or whatever the boys are sellin’ on my interweb space so’s I can stay out of jail.
Still Drinkin’
Wasted Willie