Whenever I go out drinking with my friend Dave, I know two things are bound to happen by the end of the night. One: I won’t be wearing pants. Two: Dave will pee on everyone I love. Not literally, of course. But whenever he gets drunk he has a habit of teasing me about things like my mother’s weight or my brother’s cerebral palsy. That’s just the way some guys get their kicks I guess. While he’s running his mouth about the woman who gave birth to me I usually just sit back and drink my beer quietly. But this time he went too far.
I started ‘officially’ dating a Native American stripper a few days ago and I just knew Dave would have something to say about it. Sure enough, the next time I saw him at the bar he started running his mouth about my girl’s profession. Something or other about her “putting the ho in Navajo.” And that’s when it happened. I snapped.
“Listen pal, talk all the crap you want about my mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you drag Dances-For-Money’s name through the mud!”
Needless to say he and I don’t hang out anymore. Oh well.
(p.s. the beer in the bottle is Santa’s Private Reserve by Rogue Brewery. It was a good night.)
Oh, that Dave…
That’s funny.