A long, long time ago, on a mountainside far, far away… an object was found that one customer wishes would have rusted into oblivion. This object has been the center of much controversy, and once was even kidnapped, only to be returned to the aforementioned customer’s chagrin.
We’ll call that customer The Lightweight – not because of his size, or because of his boxing classification; he was neither small nor a boxer, he was a barroom athlete who mastered the sport of face planting. Many a night, after his third beer, he practiced his art from his barstool by planting his face squarely atop the bar. During one of these episodes, he was introduced to the object.
The object was introduced to the bar Halloween of 2005. We weren’t the owners then, and nary a soul knew my wife and I. Dressed as a pregnant nun, my wife rolled me in – yes the object is a wheelchair and I was playing a mentally challenged paraplegic priest. My job was to imitate Noah Percy from the movie “The Village.” People say I make a convincing village idiot.
One of the benefits to being a village idiot is that no one expects you to posses math skills. Belief me, I don’t; but, I did stumble upon an interesting equation: Booze + wheelchair = fun. Like any mathematical equation, this one could be readily expanded upon. It was, and we’ve discovered: Drunk + wheelchair + Duct tape = Lots of fun. It’s not the theory of relativity, but the following experiment proved the equation’s validity.
After Mr. Lightweight plunged from stool to bar top, someone asked
if there was duct tape in the house. I could tell by this customer’s grin that he was onto something I would appreciate. When he asked the whereabouts of the wheelchair, I was wearing a wide grin. Within minutes we had the Lightweight secured upright in the wheelchair and were pushing him out the door and down the sidewalk to the other bar. Hey, we’re good sports, we duct taped a beer to his hand.
Once there, we knocked on the front door and scattered behind parked cars. The bartender came to the door, looked at the Lightweight, looked up and down the street, shrugged and went back inside. “Who knocks on a barroom door?” the bartender said later. “When I saw him, I knew you p$@!ks were up to no good.”
Like I said, we’re good sports. After that stunt we rolled Mr. Lightweight home and planted him on his couch. You would think that he would have learned his lesson. Nope, it took a different equation the next night.
Sharpies + Drunk = Art Class…
Like all art classes a painting surface was needed. That night’s class was held on the Light- weight’s face. The same pot stirrer managed to draw an erect male organ on the Lightweight’s forehead. No big deal you say. I agree. Until, we learned that the next morning Mr. Lightweight didn’t look in the mirror before going to work. I think he had a bad day. The moral of the story? Brushing and flossing keeps the Penis Monster away!