The Dreams of a Boy Become the Destiny of a Man
It has been a really long time since I added a post to this site, but last night my friends-Yikes!!!! I really had absolutely no choice but to write something here.Jagdeep is now back in Canada, and for those of you out of the loop, he's a Whitecourt buddy who has spent the last year teaching English in Taiwan. Arriving back in Edmonton on September 20th, Jagdeep chose the Strat on Whyte Avenue as a good place to get re-acquainted with a bunch of his friends. God bless that man for choosing such a spot!
I arrived late to find Jag in full flight, beer flowing like wine, joined by another old buddy from high school, my friend Rory. Soon, I was in full C-U-Next-Tuesday mode, and found myself relegated to the corner of the bar, swapping dirty jokes with my friends. Just like ol' times...
A pedophile and a young boy were walking alone together in a dark forest one night.
"I'm really scared of this forest, Mr. Pedophile Man! It's so dark and scary!" the boy said to the pedophile.
Replying, the pedophile said, "You think you're scared? I have to walk outta here by myself tonight!"
Yup, we are fucking awesome...
And it was during my time in the corner that I saw them, glaring at me, almost mocking me. They were so many of them too; it was rather intimidating. Putting on my game face, I decided that I would not be pushed into something I did not want to do. "Fuck you pickled eggs! Glare at me all night long, and I still won't fall for your powers!" I screamed my new mantra to myself.
Turning away from a sure fight to the death with a jar of pickled eggs on the counter, I quickly realized that our table had been overrun with these strange, unusual creatures, the likes of which I generally only see at the Titty Bar's (or, to appease Cpt. Asshole and all of his Frenchness, Le Titee Bar; Mon dieu! C'est un grenouille dans l'Alberta! Zut alors!) (and yes, I really do hope I butchered that!). They weren't as hairy as we were, and they certainly didn't wreak like us...Perhaps...they were...females? Couldn't be, could it? I mean, don't they only exist in places like www.persiankitty.com or a kitchen? Whatever they were, I decided to strike up a conversation with the one closest to me..The creature was drinking beer, so I knew it couldn't be that bad...
"How's it going?" I asked her.
"Not bad, you?" she replied, obviously impressed with my witty opening remark.
"I'm okay...I'm here to see a buddy. He just got back from Taiwan, and we plan on getting a bit fucked up tonight," I said.
"Cool! I think we are here for the same reason then!" she said.
"You mean, you also plan on getting puking drunk and passing out in your own clothing?" I asked.
"Haha! No! I think we are both here to see a guy from Taiwan. Jagdeep, right?" she said.
"Yeah! Hey, cool! We should have a good time, then!" I say, "Do you happen to be in school right now?".
"Yeah, I'm getting my master's degree in Comparative Literature," she replied.
"You're studying C LIT at a graduate level?" I ask, smiling like a motherfucker at my own charms.
"Yup!" she replied, not slapping me.
Finding out that her name was Janelle, we talked and drank awhile longer, eventually achieving Nirvana in our hammerdness.
"MICROWAVES, T.V.s, STEREOS!" she would yell.
"ALL AT DISCOUNTED PRICES!" I would yell back.
It was an unlikely love. There she was, a grad student with barely two nickels to rub together, occassionally caught in her own class level; me, well, I'm a rich and sophisticated aristocrat, charming and polished to the end. But there was some magic in the air that night, like Cupid himself was shooting arrows into my heart and/or groin. We're going to make it after all...
And like all good things, eventually my love affair had to end.
"It was good meeting you, John! Goodby..." she was trying to say.
Cutting her off, I cried, "I hate goodbyes!...Please, let's get this over with...Just go, don't look back," I said. With that, Janelle left, gone from my life forever.
"Out of all the sleaze bars in all the world, why did she have to chose this one to come to tonight?" I asked my freind Rory.
"Hey John! Look over there! That blonde is wearing a belt for a skirt!" Rory said.
"Fucking sweet! We should try and double up on her!" I yell.
"It's a deal," Rory said.
As I was undressing the blonde with my eyes, something on the bar again caught my attention. Looking more cocky now, the eggs were back. Smiling their arrogant little egg smiles, they thought that they had me in a corner.
"Awwwww...Look at Mr. Skinny Man...He don't like no eggs...Eggs too strong for Mr. Skinny Man! He get all sick if he eat us!" the eggs were saying to me...Not quite drunk enough yet to feel the need to issue a response, I ignored those eggs, though I knew that one way or another a breaking point would be reached, and the eggs and I would have to resolve all of our differences.
There were still some skirts left at our table, so I decided to break out the elephanitis of the testicles story on them. Surprisingly, they were not runnig for the hills; I think I may be on to something here, as I used the same story five minutes into a first date a month ago, and the girl didn't leave, either. I guess girls like stories about dudes with big balls...
For the next hour, I proceeded to drink my face off, and before I knew what was going on, it was last call. Doing the only thing that I could think of at the time, I ordered more booze for the table. As I was talking to the bartender, a guy who would have his face torn off if a magnet was ever brought to within 18 feet of his body, the eggs stepped up again.
"Listen cunt. We know you are a pussy, and we are pretty sure that you realize that yourself, too. Drag your raggedy ass on out of here before you get hurt," they said. "Only real men can handle this thang," the eggs said, slapping their collective booties.
That's it...The last straw. "It is time," I said to myself. The Lion King theme music started playing in the background- a tone setter, as I was about to climb my own personal Pride Rock and take on the Pickled Eggs of The Strat. Recruiting another buddy from the 'Court, Dave, we ordered twenty of the little bastards.
I charged into my eggs at a ferocious pace, eating them whole. Dave chose a more conservative, and ultimately smarter, aprroach by taking his time. This fight was one of endurance, and I was treating it like a sprint. I nearly ralphed on egg number eight, forcing me to slow down the pace. By the end of egg ten, I was nearly blind, and I lost feeling in my left leg.
Dave was doing no better; his face was the same green colour as the brine that keeps the eggs oh-so-delicious. Looking at ourselves, and realizing that we had nearly eaten a dozen eggs each in less than twenty minutes, a feeling of pride spread over our faces. We did the impossible, and we had survived. But just as I was about to do a victory lap around the bar, most likely a nude victory lap, I noticed the jar of eggs; there were still ten left. Five more eggs apiece...That would bring me to 15 for the evening if I tried to accomplish this feat. Fuck me!
Sometimes, the mark of a real man is to know when he has been beaten by a worthy adversary and simply to walk away. There was no chance that I would be able to finish all of those eggs. Indeed, I ended up having two strokes and a heart attack on the walk home, so anymore may have caused real damage. I lost the battle that night; my greatest challenge, and I came up short. The war is far from over though, and as God is my witness, the dreams of a boy will become the destiny of a man, and I will one day eat all of the Strat's pickled eggs.
God speed,
Moose
posted by Team Shawn Michaels @ 1:51 p.m.
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