I’m minding my own business

I’m not thinking about St. Patrick’s day. I don’t even know it’s St. Patrick’s day. It’s a stupid day. Like, people need an excuse to drink? We need to be prompted to drink by the Irish of all people? The Irish are terrible drunks. Worse than Russians. Russians guzzle Vodka and seem perfectly normal until they drop dead. Irish make a mess of it. They drink and drink and keep living. They’re in a bar, singing, spilling beer, pissing themselves, crying…it’s pathetic. You don’t see the French making fools of themselves. I’m not crazy about the French. I hate the French. Smug bastards. But at least they know how to drink.

I’m minding my own business.

The smelly Irish dude comes in and sits beside me. He smells. Is he drunk? At all times he appears drunk. He weaves. It’s the cast on his leg with the drainage tubes. Man, he smells. I’m thinking I could get up and move but now he looking at me. Grinning.

“How is it?” he says.

“Pretty good. Listen. Are you Scottish?”

His smile fades.

“I was told you were Scottish. I’m curious, that’s all.”

He’s looking at me. He reaches down and scratches his cast. Wiggles his tubes. Looks up at me. Says, “I was told you was a power bottom.”

“What?”

“Like to take it up the Arse. That’s you, eh?”

“Who told you that?”

“Fellow comes in here a lot.”

“Fat guy wears pajamas. Talks to himself real loud.”

“Naw. Tha’d be the looney Mootha Fooker. Wasn’t him.”

“He wear a hat that says STAY HUMAN?”

“Yippy dippy. Yeah. He’s the one.”

“He told you I was Gay?”

“A Glory Hole Fist fuck. That’s what he called you. Swears by it.”

“Why would he share something like that with you?”

“The Lad aint too clear. Had a Labotomy, you see.”

“It’s all bullshit. I’m not Gay.”

“Okee Dokey. You say so.”

He get’s up, moves around the table. His Backgammon pals have arrived.

I’m thinking, was it Yippy told me he was Scottish?

Or was it the Crazy Dude?

I need to have a word with Yippy.

Maybe I should have a drink first.

Find a Bar and get stupid drunk.

Drive erratically.

Get pulled over by a Cop. Hauled off to Jail. A D.U.I. at my age. I’m not even Gay. Not that being Gay is an excuse to get drunk. When I was younger, much younger, Gays suffered guilt. I think it’s different now. It’s okay to be Gay, Transexual, Bi, or even Tri…follow your Heart and go with the flow.

Get it up for chickens and donkeys if that helps you realize your full potential…

I’m trying to think. Should I knock Yippy on his ass when I see him? I’m an Old Man. Do I really care he’s spreading outragious shit about me? I guess not.

I’m wondering if he had a Lobotomy.

I’m thinking maybe it’s a good idea to stay sober on St. Patrick’s day. All the drunks are out on the road and the Cops are in force. Best to play it cool.

It’s Amatuer Night.