A new record

I spent the evening writing at Roma. After the batteries were dead and the brain cells were well on their way, fuego and I played some pool. I am not very good at the game at the best of times, and last night was not the best of times. I lost, and then fuego started playing against the bartender. I played a couple more games, but most of the time I was standing at the bar talking to a czech guy who didn’t like being a czech guy.

“I am mad,” he said. I laughed it off, but he convinced me he was right. Nothing like talking to a drunk suicidal misogynist with violent urges on a Tuesday evening. Or on a Wednesday morning, for that matter. The sky was getting lighter when we came home, and at this lattitude in winter that’s saying something. The crazy guy walked with us. I think he wanted to sleep with fuego. He had already given up on me, so I was free to give him drunken pseudo-philosophical advice. I’m sure he will treasure the nuggets of wisdom I offered. At some point I stopped drinking beer, because, well, there wasn’t anything more it could do.

The rest of the night will have to wait for fiction.

The sun is up now, and has been for a long time. I’m listening to the Karel Gott, the Czech Elvis equivalent, cover “Seasons in the Sun” and watching the wind blow outside. It looks mighty cold out there.

10 thoughts on “A new record

  1. So why did you stop drinking the beer again? Since when did that ever stop anyone? See, the crazy guy probably wasn’t crazy at all, he just hadn’t stopped drinking. Not sure what the moral of that is.

  2. fuego, after sleeping through yesterday (awake four hours by his estimation) asked me today, “how many beers did we have?” and “So what exactly did that guy say, anyway?”

    A lot, and crazy stuff. The first precludes an accurate rendition of the second. There really was a point where there was nothing left for beer to do to me. I will not give cardinal numbers for the beers, as I have gotten fuego in enough trouble with his bride-to-be already, but it was a lot. I had a head start on him.

  3. Yes, but I almost caught up! Probably by slipping the bartender money, and receiving free beers as a gift, while you were caught up in the diatribe of a silly youth brash enough to consider himself “mad.”

  4. If it’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen, what goes with Mad Czechs?

    You know, I was once arrested for walking down the street in Prague and slipping past a local indigent.

    Yup, charged with passing a bum Czech!

  5. OOOOHHHHH, Brian! I quail in terror at the punnish havoc you might release, should you and Pat ever end up in the same room together.

  6. Actually, it’s bouncing Czechs, dancing Poles, great Danes (mmmmm, Viggo) rotten Swedes and somethings else to do with Fins and fish but I forget what.

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