either shut up or get cut up - part one

If there's ever anyone you want by your side, it's my girl Kelli. Nothing is better than seeing a five one, hundred pound little thing telling some big ol' biker that she's gonna kill him.

Actually, if I remember correctly, her exact words were, "I'm gonna smash your fucking teeth in".

So... yeah. Never in my twenty five years on this earth did I imagine that I would almost get into fisticuffs with a gang of bikers. Note, not a biker gang, but a group of 'em. What do you call that anyway? Is it like a gaggle of geese? Murder of crows? I don't know. Group of bikers? Gang of? Fleet? Flock? Fuck it.

So I'm sitting on the steps of this neighborhood bar. It's a cute, divey little joint. All the local cutups and criminals hang out there, myself included. The jukebox isn't anything to write home about, but the beers are cheap and you can smoke on the patio. But I'm on the phone with my guy, so I'm out front. And as we're whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears, these four or five jackasses on their crotch rockets start circling the block. Actually, they weren't even crotch rockets, they were more like pseudo-harleys, fitting for these wannabe weekend warriors that have nothing better to do than to ride aimlessly through a dingy little suburb.

I'm walking up the steps when one of them yells out, "Geek!". I don't know if I just automatically assumed that was meant for me or not, but I turned around.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're a geek."

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah. You fucking four-eyed geek."

"Whatever dude." I rolled my eyes and made my way back in.

Okay, before I go on, I have to just wonder... why would a grown man, probably in his thirties, resort to petty name calling? Am I back in junior high? Is this the playground all over again, and little Johnny Venture doesn't know how to tell a girl that he likes her, so he pushes her into the dirt instead? I laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and yet... it kinda brought be back to my pathetic days of getting taunted in the halls.

I sat back at my table, fuming. I explained to Kelli what had just transpired, and in one swift motion, she slammed her beer down and bolted for the door. Unfortunately for us - or for them, I'm still not quite sure - they had already sped off.

And of course, going back to our table and knowing they were gone, I suddenly have this jolt of courage. Those guys were lucky they had left, the Jets were gonna have their way and we were gonna rumble 'em right. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, maybe it was Kelli's words of encouragement, but I was ready to start something...

Next week: Our dramatic conclusion!!! Will Kelli and Kim get their revenge? Will we find out who shot JR? Or Mr. Burns for that matter?!?!

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