Today is Wednesday- gorillas are not good pets

Last night after a few tumblers of pappys, I met my friends, David and Teresa, at the bar near the taco lounge and across the street from the brunch place. When did beer turn bad in this country? I can't stand all the shitty beer that has all the fruity names and honey and sweet nectar bs. I like good beer- bud, coors, peroni, heineken, moretti. Usually, when I go to bars now a days, I need to order bourbon since the beer is usually undrinkable. But, bars do have nice bourbon these days. Pappy, knob crick, bakers, bookers, etc.

Several bourbons in and a few trips outside to smoke made me extra irritable. I started making fun of somebody at the end of the bar. I hadn't seen the person here before, so at first I was curious about who they were. Then, I started to watch this guy intently and he started to bother me. There was something about the way he was sitting at the bar- sort of hunched over, but his shoulders were raised up and his head and neck were sort of squished down into his chest. He also moved his head sort of like a weather vane in summer- slow and very, very deliberately. His hands were a bit on the big side, almost clubbed and his ass was big and egg shaped. He could drink, however. He was slamming down some sort of pink, chick's drink. Anyway, I started making fun of this guy to David and Teresa, and they started laughing at first. I kept going at it, saying things like, 'I can smell my armpits when I do this.' (imitating the way the guy was sitting.) And, 'I like pork! that is why I have such a fat ass.'
It must have been the bourbon, but I just couldn't stop myself. I was getting pretty loud and obnoxious with my imitations, so much so that Teresa got up and took a break from me. I went on to loudly make fun of the guys hair, his arms, his legs, his clothes, his drinks, his ears, eyes, shoes. Finally, I realized that David was no longer laughing with me, and Teresa was visibly pissed off. She asked me to stop and told me to stop drinking. All my laughing and imitating had made my jaw hurt and had made it hard to swallow, but, I said, 'ok, I am sorry, I was just messing around.'
It goes without saying that the bartender and several other people were not happy with me; apparently, I was pretty loud. But, the guy just kept sitting there which made me believe that he didn't hear me or didn't care about what I was doing. We settled back into our drinks and began talking about the upcoming summer plans. The whole mood in the bar settled down as well, and some nice early pink floyd played.
Next thing I know is that the guy is standing to the side of Teresa and is staring me down. I take one look and I realize that I must be some kind of asshole for this guy is clearly mentally handicapped. I try to break out a little half smile, crinkled eye look that says, 'oops'; but, too late, one of those meaty, meaty hands bitch slaps me right across the face. Calloused skin from digits hit my eyeball, a rugged fingernail scratched by temple, a meaty thumb thudded on my nose, and the surprisingly soft, meaty part of the palm hit my lips and went into my mouth. My ears rang, my jaw hurt more and the force of the blow taught me that this guy was strong, really, really strong. I took it- I can take a punch- and said, 'I deserved that, but please don't hit me again.'
Of course, nobody in the bar moved. They just watched this happen. Then the guy turned around and went to his seat. David and Teresa got up to go, but I asked them to stay which they hesitantly did. The bartender just looked at me and shook his head. I said loudly and clearly, 'I deserved that. Everything is fine.' Or something like that.
I was going to tell David and Teresa a story about a friend of mine, Miles Moyer, but, I didn't have the energy, and I think Teresa can be a bit of a C sometime. I just felt that my story would give her more reason to hate me and more reason to judge me. She is so PC. She has actually turned David into a bit of a PC Princess.
I will tell you all (you none) about Miles Moyer:

Miles Moyer grew up in the valley, just down the street from me, and he went to the same private school that I attended. His dad was some sort of importing specialist, so Miles grew up wealthy. Miles always had new things: skateboards (dogtown), bikes, betamax, handheld games, apple computers,new clothes, and he was one of the first kids to get an earring. But, the best thing about Miles was that his dad had a baby giraffe and a baby gorilla as pets. They both lived in the backyard of Miles' house. I saw the giraffe once or twice then it was gone. But, the gorilla was there for years. At first, when it was small and it wore a diaper or some sort of shorts, Miles and his friends (including me) would go out back and tease the gorilla. We would throw things at it, and chase it, and kick it, and do whatever else kids do to things that are strange. As we all got older, including the gorilla, only Miles would go out back and play with it. And by play, I mean wrestle and fight. Miles and the gorilla would be rolling around the grass, fighting and playing. The gorilla actually seemed to enjoy it, but Miles seemed to have some sort of resentment or hatred in his eyes with this gorilla. When the gorilla got even bigger, he would simply grab Miles by the top of his head and drag him around the yard. Miles' dad kept an aluminum bat near the sliding glass door so that he could go out and whack the gorilla stiffly to make him let go of Miles.
In the final months of seeing the gorilla, it would stand and wait outside the sliding glass door. Waiting for Miles to come home. I remember how scared I was of the gorilla. Sitting there at the glass door waiting to 'play'. Miles, of course, would tease the gorilla and get it all riled up and then he would run out back with the bat and start hitting it. The gorilla would somehow disarm Miles and then drag him around the yard by his head which made his dad run out to the yard. His dad would pick up the bat, and try to threaten the gorilla. But, by now, the gorilla seemed to be a lot tougher and a little bit stubborn, so Miles' dad would have to hit him. Hard, really, really hard. The sound was so strange. Kinda like a splat and a thud and a ping all meshed together. Miles' dad of course was grunting into each hit and cursing the whole time. It was unclear, at the time, if he was cursing at the gorilla or his son. The last time that I saw the gorilla, the gorilla was pretty banged up. He seemed to have a black eye and a hurt arm. He was also moving around like he had a broken rib. Then, he was gone. I asked Miles' about the gorilla and he responded, 'That mother fucker ain't around anymore. We had to get rid of him.' Miles never spoke about the gorilla again.
A year or so later when we were walking home from the bus stop (we took the RTD to our school) Miles had me follow him to another bus stop. He seemed agitated and hurried. I asked him what the deal was and he responded, 'That mother fucker was looking at me strange'. Just then a bus stopped and let off some people. Off comes this kid, wearing a backpack and headphones. He had glasses and I had seen him in the neighborhood before, but I only knew him as being quiet. Anyway, Miles walks up to the guy and starts beating the crap out of him. I was so shocked that I didn't know what to do. I just watched him beat this poor, quiet kid up. The earphones and backpack, the glasses, blood, what looked to be a tooth, all flying about under the angry thrashing of Miles' fists. Finally, the bus driver got off the bus and broke up the fight. He actually yelled at me too for not doing anything. Then we walked home and Miles said nothing, but, he seemed to be relaxed and content. Miles soon got expelled from the private school- he got caught shooting up with Diana (she was hot). For some strange reason, our private school had 5 or 6 junkies. They were all my friends, but I had no idea they were shooting up. By the end of school, right before high school, there were only 3 of the original 12 or so friends left. The fate of the others can be saved for another time.


Thinking back on it right now, I can see why Miles was so angry all the time, since his younger 'brother' was some bad-ass gorilla that would grab him by his head and drag him around. I don't know why he picked on the quiet kid since I believe that Miles could have fought and beaten just about anybody. I guess he just needed to beat somebody up and this quiet kid was the first to hit his switch. After that day, I was scared of Miles and did my best to be nice to him at all times. I did see him a few times during high school, and he was always nice to me and asked how I was doing, but we never really spoke after that.

Last I heard of Miles was that he was in a prison somewhere. He had finally murdered somebody.
I hope that all the hard training he did with gorilla is helping him in jail.

Sophia and I have not spoken to each other since the weekend.
I am fearing that 'yellow panties' is going to find my switch and make me forget about Sophia. I have not really worked on myself yet. I probably need to so that I can validate my feelings toward Sophia.

Xioba