The brutality of a drunkard’s honesty

Children seldom lie; in fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn’t have said. Well – if you thought kids can be forward, then clearly you have never sat around drunkards!Last week, as I sat in my local joint enjoying that wonderful creation in a brown bottle, I decided to mentally investigate how I got so old so fast. I thought about going to a styled up bar but the idea of watching young hot babes shake their ‘tail feathers’ or whatever, wearing only handkerchiefs, almost made me weep.I found myself hating on these young %@#&s as if it is their fault that I grew old! For a fraction of a section, I thought about saving enough money to go to Hollywood or India for some serious body adjustments – and how, if I made it there, mine is a story Jerry Springer would be very interested in.Away in thought, I didn’t notice that some guy had placed himself next to me and had been rambling away for about 30 minutes. I think I snapped out of my thoughts when he dared to touch my bottle – a move that almost cost him an arm.To get rid of my depressing thoughts of aging, I decided company wouldn’t be so bad. He seemed like a nice guy – a little too forward and nosy for my liking but nice – well, at least at first. He asked way too many questions and seemed to know way too many people. Around his 6th Mutzig, the man became more and more offensive. I can swear that at one point he asked me if my kids were all grown up, as if I had mentioned any and all I could do to stop myself from stomping on his arrogant head was pretend I hadn’t heard.If you think my troubles ended there, you have another thing coming. The man went ahead to ask me why I had what looked like a bush on my head, insisting that weaves just didn’t do it for him, as if I was there to please the douche! So much for my phony friends who said it was the ish! Around the time he asked me what kind of name my surname is, I decided he needed to leave my table before I showed him just how focused I am when it comes to karate movies. I sent him the loudest jeer I could gather - loud enough to overthrow a Nigerian’s and was off - back to hating the world.