13 B : : : Fat Jerry Loves To Break Bones

This is for Muy Largo. Luv ya babe.

I just hadn't met you yet.


Press play and read what follows while you hear it. You're gonna love this True Punk Fight Story End shit.


Read all of the stories that relate to this talehere.




Muy Largo punched me over Joey's shoulder, and he had the knife in his hand, blade down. The long, razor sharp blade cut Joey's leather, on his shoulder, and the tip of the blade cut some meat, next to bone, on Joey's shoulder. Joey would heal within a couple weeks, but his shoulder is still never the same.

Muy smacked me in my jaw with his left fist, with lightening speed, and my jaw was made of glass that night it seems, because I fell. Joey told me later that his instinct was to jab an elbow at Muy's arm after it swung past, which made the blade fly through the air on Muy's retraction of his arm back. Joey busted Muy's elbow.

I have no recollection of most of this, but the fact that I am telling you this, and that Joey is still alive, is proof enough that Joey probably have saved us from being sliced in the faces.

At this same moment, three amazing things occurred simultaneously. Two: Sean and Tellesco, who were chomping at the bit, had already gone off-sides, and were grabbing those Messican weasels closest to the front line with their huge arms, and smashing into the others closest to their quarterback; Muy.

The third thing that happened was that Bryan shot his little grannie's .22 into the air, and then pumped the second bullet into Muy's right shoulder, the opposite arm from his now busted left elbow. It was simply luck that this tiny bullet did not end up in Joey. This was all very close range.

You could smell the Jerry Curl or whatever the fuck it was that these Messicans used in their hair nets.


In this close combat that night, you could smell adrenaline and fear, sweat, personal body grooming products, and refried beans.

This moment was as dense and tightly packed as a year, but lasted for only a split second. The aftermath is still with me.


Sean and Tellesco, fully pumped up from Roid Rage, smashed the handsome, fully-dolled up Messicans that they embraced, head first into the pavement. These two football players were enjoying themselves, because the defensive backs they were attacking were not wearing body armor. Sean and Tellesco appeared to be working in unison, because they let these brown rag dolls drop after they knocked them out on the ground at the same time, and then they "attended to" those they had run into with them.

Those dudes were scrambling to get back up, while trying to find what in thee hell had happened to their pistols, which had skittered across the tar after their impact from the first two rag dolls that Sean and Tellesco used as battering rams.

God Bless Sean and Tellesco. It was they who saved us. And it was they who did not stop. Then the Messicans started to holler for help and scream in pain.

I got the fuck back up. I still do not recall this, and it was pretty cheap of me to do so, but it must have been the "Shit or Get Off The Pot" thing, or the "Fight or Flight," thing, but perhaps it was a side of me that I never knew that I had inside me. I wailed on the fallen big dude, hurt as he was.

This is a Bad Quality you might have inside yourself. It just might be that someday you may find yourself in such a moment, and,

Not. Give. A. Simple. Fuck.

I hope that you never find out. It's not pretty. You will feel remorse, you animal you.

I went after Muy. Remember, I do not recall this.

It was blind rage.

I cannot now be held accountable in a court of law.

The statute of limitations for something like or resembling egregious bodily harm, etc. has passed.

But, when you break a bone, it sounds like breaking a piece of chalk.

"CHKK."

When one of your bones gets broken, you will hear it. You won't feel a thing. There is the sudden on-rush of Endorphins to help you get out of such a situation, if you can. If not, you may feel the blessed release of fainting from the pain.

If you are lucky.

Now, you forgot about Fat Jerry, the Punk who had driven to this little tea party in his Hearse, haven't you?

It took a second longer for him to respond, but Fat Jerry,

Well...

He had no "Off Button."

He was the guy who died from contracting HIV later that year, back when it was only known as AIDS, from the English bitch known by a man's name, "Charles." You recall that, don't you?

Pay attention.






Do not read any further. Go have a cup of tea and take a candle-lit bath.



Or press play, and continue on.

Your choice.

It gets gross.



OK.

GO.

Fat Jerry ran forward and began to kick the Messicans who were knocked out. He broke their ribs with his Chrome-Toed Docs.

Sean and Tellesco grabbed those dudes scrambling for their pistols and picked them up in the air.

Little Joey fell, clutching his blood-spurting shoulder. Little Lion Man fell.

I ran at Muy. Evidently, I snatched his fingers and began to push them sideways. I broke his fingers at the joints, or else dislocated them, but I seemed to be intent on making him stop parrying with his knife, which he no longer held, or else maybe stop chopping coke for a while.

I am not proud of this animalistic behavior, on a person who was already in-cap-ass-itated.

Sean and Tellesco began to sweep the ground with their conquests, and then they threw these men at those low-riders cars.

This was when the crowd rushed in.

All sorts of people started to try to help pull the wounded away, and stop those football players, who were in full on rage, from trying to dent the hoods of the Low Rider cars with the bodies of them crooked Messicans.

Fat Jerry was slamming his boots into whatever he could find laying on the tar.

Then he began to snap femurs across his thigh. He actually took the time to prop up a dude's leg, and press down, hard, with both meaty fist-bags. Dude used his weight.

CHHK.

That was gross, according to Little Joey, who heard it all. It happened over and over again.

But Joey stopped everything. He had jumped into the Hearse, as the crowd came in around us, and he began to honk the horn, and he fucking drove forward, ramming into one of the low-rider cars.

He did not run over anyone.

He got out and shouted at us, "DONE! We get the fuck out of here!"

We all stopped, amid the screaming crowd, and heard the far off approach of sirens.

Sean and Tellesco ran toward the Green Beast, the Ford LTD, and Sean dropped the hammer on that bitch. Fat Jerry grabbed Bryan and they clambered into the back of the Hearse.

I was already in the Passenger side.

Don't look at me that way.



Next week, the Aftermath.


++++++++++++++++++


Here are a couple links for you.

I have to work the Bingo tomorrow, ya TDC Enjoyer.



Interesting take on Avatar, but from a cartoonist.

Baby Tiger. Cute.


This is for Hoot. Hell, it looks like him in the first pic.

Huey sings.

Mortgages? Dayam.

Robots? Me likey.



Catfish? For Tucky. Fucking huge, bud.

Now go enjoy the lovely weather, as I take a big ole hit off some second hand smoke at the Bingo Palace.

God Help Me.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.










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