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Old 08-13-2012, 07:13 AM   #56
Laconic
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Joined: Sep 2007
Location: Moran Nation, NC
Oddometer: 16,831
Quote:
Originally Posted by jdrocks View Post
Ok, it was a somewhat hot day, but not one you would think of as getting your behind cooked in one of those jumbo smokers. It wasn’t a designated beer festival day in West Virginia as far as I knew, no “Beer on Sale” signs posted around this place, but every single person in this crowd was somehow engaged in a beer activity enterprise. Buying, carrying, icing, opening, and drinking, the works, it was a dog gone beer free-for-all. There should have been a stage with the local garage band playing heavy metal covers, half deflated beach balls swatted around, corndogs, cotton candy. No beer snobs here, no art deco beer labels, no sirree, this was drinkin’ beer, the cheap stuff, no bespoke hops, no nutty flavor. Here was an instance where the nuts were all on the working end of those cans and bottles.

One thing you learn quickly around these stores is that those single jumbo cans and bottles sold are not for sipping while watching the night game on ESPN, they rarely make it out of the parking lot. So I wasn’t surprised when two guys and a gal walked by and one guy said “Honey, can you open this, ma hand’s too slippery”, she grabbed the bottle and a big handful of her ragged cut off T, wrapped it around the neck and gave a big twist.

Yowzers, ain’t nothing on under that T shirt, not pretty, no one stepped up to offer her the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, she had no glowing halo of celestial light shining around her…it was just the reflection from the Coors Light sign. Then again, could have been her mustache, I think you’re supposed to have a close shave if ya want to be in SI, be good to tear off that birth control patch too. The other guy was standing there and saw the whole thing, “Can ya open mine too?”, must have been more woman parts than he’d seen up close in a coons age. Those two guys thought she was enchanting, I wasn’t standing all that close, still thought I might be gettin’ an outbreak of hives.

I was watching for an encore…until she gave me a cold hard look through those dull granite eyes, damn lucky I was a mind reader…holy crap, she planned to cut my balls off with her car keys if I didn’t stop staring and get lost right quick. She wasn’t drinking a sense of humor out of that bottle, at least not today. So long, Honey, enjoyed the show.

The three big ol’ boys across the pumps from me had finished off six beers just since I parked the bike, tossed the empties in the back with all the rest. I didn’t think they were binge drinkers, they were steady drinkers, all day every day drinkers, chaser tucked under the seat of the pickup. Matching beat up cooler in the back of that beat up truck, gettin’ low, and the one guy went in and came back with another case, plus a bag of ice. Put away another while the beer was carefully iced down, that makes nine, heck, they haven’t even left the pumps yet.

Time’s up, and they squeezed three itchy, sweaty, tatted up hippo bodies into the cab of that pickup, driver and passenger half hanging out the windows, not a good fit in there, each holding beer number four, don’t think they were in there discussing the wine list for that upcoming soiree. The motor in that truck sounded like an old refrigerator falling down three flights of stairs when it started up, yup, those boys drank up a 12 pack when they stopped for fuel.

Damn, too late, I wanted to ask that one beetle browed guy where he got those pale blue jailhouse flipflops, he had a certain sartorial fashion sense, a trend setter, but he was grinding his teeth and mumbling something, a slow bubbling lava flow of mental acuity, an explosion eminent…better not. The collaborating hippos took their drunken circus on the road, no fear of the abyss ahead, might be a buzz kill…and I think I could still hear that POS truck when it was half way to Durbin.

I needed to get back out there too, but the opposite direction. Fired the rat, down the road to Old Pike, and I was back on gravel, fueled, hydrated, and…laughing.
Pure effing gold.
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