Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Ballad of Sid and Donny

I had the misfortune of spending some time recently with my friend Donny and his cousin, Sid.  Donny and I have known each other for many years and try to get together for beers and bullshit every couple of months.  This last time, for some inexplicable reason, he brought Sid with him.

In order for you to truly understand, some background is in order.  Sid is a fucking retard.  I say this knowing full well that this is not at all fair to actual retards.  They have much more class and intelligence than Sid, as well as 10-13 more IQ points than this shit hook.  Sid is the kind of guy that would eat the asshole out of a dead armadillo on the side of the road if you offered him a quarter.  And he’d take an IOU because he actually likes the flavor.  In other words, Sid is a jackass and Donny knows I can’t stand him.

Apparently Donny had managed to drive his SUV into the side of a mountain the week before and needed his half-wit cousin to drive him to our get together.  At first, I was blissfully unaware of any of this. Completely ignoring the staggering stupidity involved in riding any form of motorized conveyance piloted by Sid, Donny strolled in to the bar where I had already been waiting for 45 minutes.

“Where the hell have you been?  I’ve been waiting like a stood-up loser.”

“Hey.  Uh, I gotta tell you something you’re not going to like…” he stammered.

He didn’t get any further.  I saw Sid’s smirking visage pop in to view coming in from the parking lot.  I don’t recall the string of profanity that streamed from my mouth exactly, but it would have made a Navy Master Chief blush.  Ignoring Sid’s proffered hand, I glared at Donny, daring him to come up with an excuse for this violation of protocol.  The last time I had been forced to spend time with this asshat, I had expressly forbidden Donny to bring him around again.  I even threatened to, “punch Sid in the fucking ovaries”, if I saw his inbred ass ever again.

Yet here he was standing in front of me.  In all his banjo strumming, toothpick chewing, cousin fucking glory. 

As he told me the story of his accident, I continued to stare at Sid.  To his credit, he caught the signals and had retreated to the other side of his cousin.  He was talking to the bartender, no doubt trying to order moonshine or half a beer on credit.  Donny noticed this and began embellishing his accident story in an obvious attempt to gain sympathy.

He was just getting to the part where, despite his two broken legs, protruding clavicle, explosive diarrhea, hang nail, and being on fire, he was carrying the twelve injured orphans out of the school bus, when I stopped him.

“I’m going to punch Sid in the ovaries.”

Ignoring the physical impossibilities of my threat, Donny came up with an alternative plan.  He offered to pay for my tab that night if I refrained from reducing his cousin to pudding for the remainder of the evening.

Weighing the pros and cons for a fraction of a second, I agreed.  Then I proceeded to order every damn thing on the menu, while reaching levels of drinking proficiency that would have made Nicholas Cage in “Leaving Las Vegas” look like a fucking Mormon.  Payback is a bitch.  Vindictive friends like me, doubly so.

Problem was, the compromise served to embolden Sid, who felt safe from physical harm.  He began to run his mouth and would not shut the fuck up unless he was guzzling tequila or stuffing his face with the food his cousin was now obligated to pay for.  I admit that at first this amused me to no end, but after a while, Sid began to get on my nerves and I was reconsidering my agreement with Donny.

“You see that broad?  The one with the big milk cannons?  She fucking wants it.”

“Wants what, you illiterate horse’s ass?”

“She’s been staring at me.  She wants it. From me.”

“Wants which part? The tiny penis? The live at home with mama, unemployed part?”

“No.  She wants some of the Sid Dog.  She’s staring, man.”

I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.  “She’s staring because you have half a plate of nachos down the front of your shirt and you pissed the front of your pants the last few times you went to the bathroom.  Now shut the fuck up, or I will go to the bank, get a small mortgage, and pay this bar bill myself, just so I can beat you senseless.”

Donny smiled and reminded me that I had agreed to leave Sid alone for the rest of the evening and that I had always made it a large point of honor that I NEVER went back on my word.

And the fucker was right.  I NEVER go back on my word.

But Donny needs to get a fucking watch, because by this time it was 1:00am.  In the MORNING.

Someone’s getting punched in the ovaries….

1 comment:

  1. lol I would have just went up to the bouncer and had him removed. I did it to one of my douche nugget "guests" on new years. Cost me 20 bucks but it was worth it. Best part is not one of my other guests knew i did it, so no one was pissed.