It was hot
Not like frying pan in the desert hot
But not comfortable just the same
My best friend and I were drinking beer
In a vain effort to cool off
Ice sliding off golden scripted cans
Of mass produced swill
Vapor rising lazily up from the metal
Promising cold
Delivering naught
But hot beer and dead skunk
I felt a pressure on my chest
And my arms felt leaden
As my buddy scoffed at my latest decision
"I don't know, dude
Twenty days is a long ass time to be gone every month
If nobody else tries to tap your old lady
I just might!"
He drunkenly laughed at that
And I did too
Although I wasn't too worried about him
The general idea had crossed my mind as well
And I was feeling some misgivings about it all
But fuck it
More beer would probably fix it
"Toss me another 'Stone, eh?"
My wish granted
The mostly white can started arcing towards me
Drops of condensation shedding from it
Like a just launched rocket on a cold morning
Spinning on its long axis as it came
That gold-lettered brand label flashed into view
Then out
Then in
Old Gravestone Light
The beer that won no awards ever
With a silver slab grave marker logo
Stating unironically
"Your Name Here"
You'd think nobody would buy a beer with such a dark sense of humor
But here we were
Drinking up in the back of my pickup truck
The can passed through my fumbling fingers
To land with a meaty splat upon my chest
Upon contact
My eyes snapped open
And my head started to hurt
Hand grabbing center torso
Finding instead of a cold beer
A fabulously smelly shoe
This leather sheathe
Held an equally alarming foot
All attached to what surely
Was an appropriately horrid person
Shades of Schultz's Pigpen
But weighing 300 pounds
Topped by a mop top of greasy brown hair
And holding a jagged cinder block above his head
Small sharp stones opined their anger to my back
Offended at being laid upon
My left arm wet in a puddle of what probably isn't completely water
Not responding to my brain's call to defense
I can't tell what language I'm being swore at in
As the man swung the chunk of concrete down at me
My head tried to do a fancy zig zag move to get away
Only causing my overly starched once-white collar to chafe the skin
Two more thoughts have time to cross my mind:
The cold rain feels delightful upon my bare legs
I wonder where I left my pants
Not like frying pan in the desert hot
But not comfortable just the same
My best friend and I were drinking beer
In a vain effort to cool off
Ice sliding off golden scripted cans
Of mass produced swill
Vapor rising lazily up from the metal
Promising cold
Delivering naught
But hot beer and dead skunk
I felt a pressure on my chest
And my arms felt leaden
As my buddy scoffed at my latest decision
"I don't know, dude
Twenty days is a long ass time to be gone every month
If nobody else tries to tap your old lady
I just might!"
He drunkenly laughed at that
And I did too
Although I wasn't too worried about him
The general idea had crossed my mind as well
And I was feeling some misgivings about it all
But fuck it
More beer would probably fix it
"Toss me another 'Stone, eh?"
My wish granted
The mostly white can started arcing towards me
Drops of condensation shedding from it
Like a just launched rocket on a cold morning
Spinning on its long axis as it came
That gold-lettered brand label flashed into view
Then out
Then in
Old Gravestone Light
The beer that won no awards ever
With a silver slab grave marker logo
Stating unironically
"Your Name Here"
You'd think nobody would buy a beer with such a dark sense of humor
But here we were
Drinking up in the back of my pickup truck
The can passed through my fumbling fingers
To land with a meaty splat upon my chest
Upon contact
My eyes snapped open
And my head started to hurt
Hand grabbing center torso
Finding instead of a cold beer
A fabulously smelly shoe
This leather sheathe
Held an equally alarming foot
All attached to what surely
Was an appropriately horrid person
Shades of Schultz's Pigpen
But weighing 300 pounds
Topped by a mop top of greasy brown hair
And holding a jagged cinder block above his head
Small sharp stones opined their anger to my back
Offended at being laid upon
My left arm wet in a puddle of what probably isn't completely water
Not responding to my brain's call to defense
I can't tell what language I'm being swore at in
As the man swung the chunk of concrete down at me
My head tried to do a fancy zig zag move to get away
Only causing my overly starched once-white collar to chafe the skin
Two more thoughts have time to cross my mind:
The cold rain feels delightful upon my bare legs
I wonder where I left my pants
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