The Lumberjack

This size of this giant mud ball which we call Earth never ceases to amaze me. Folks, it’s small. It’s smaller than some of you will ever know. Many of you may know exactly what I’m talking about. One day you’re in an out of the way café and boom you run into a high school classmate whom you haven’t seen in over a decade. Then again, maybe you were just walking down the street and zang you’re standing face to face with the babysitter you had when you were 8 who owned the first pair of bare breasts you ever saw. Or what may be even stranger still, you’re sitting in a seedy strip club on the wrong side of the tracks when suddenly you run into that cousin of yours who was never quite right in the head. Kids, this Earth is teeny. I say this because I’ve met the man responsible for saving my friend's ass one day. I met him in Newark and the night just got crazier from there.

Peanut and I were enjoying a very nice repast at a KFC. We had decided to pad our bellies with yard-bird and biscuit in preparation for a night of binge drinking and flirting with 18 year olds. We were awaiting the arrival of our friend, Porn-Anthony, and laughing loudly at a Christopher Reeves joke when a large dark shadow fell upon us. A giant mitten of a hand reached into my plate and grabbed some of my Sour Cream Fun Shots and shoved them into a cave a mouth which seemed a mile away. Porn-Anthony plopped down next to Peanut and greeted us all. The form which made the enormous shadow stepped into the light and spoke.

“John…” He spoke. “I know you. You and I are connected in a way you can’t possibly image. “

I trembled with fear and shook the immensely huge paw that was being extended to me. I forced a smile and stood.

“My name is Nick.” He said. “And I saved the ass of your friend Paul.”

My face twisted in confusion and we both took our seats. Suddenly it was just the two of us in the restaurant and he recounted his version of the faithful night when our friend downed near to twenty shots of Jagermeister then flung himself, twice, into the shit and used tampon festered East River in NYC. We were instantly friends. Nick had only been in Newark 48 hours and the mission for the evening was now clear. We were to pour as much alcohol down the giant gullet which Nick called a throat and laugh at him as he tried to procure some tang.
Having heard stories about Nick, from Paul, it was common knowledge that Nick “The Lumberjack” enjoyed one drink and one drink only, Jack and Coke. I would be remised if I didn’t share with you all that this man drank 5 eight-ounce glasses full of whiskey with a splash of cola in my presence. Somehow the word “impressed” just doesn’t cut the mustard. Personally, I was busy devouring Grey Goose and Cranberry’s and like a surly step-father, Nick reminded me what kind of pussy I was as “my friend had almost bought the farm at the hands to Jagermeister” and for me to only sip vodka and juice was nigh unto an insult.
I upgraded to a half-a-dozen Dead Nazi’s (Rumplemans and Jagermeister) and suddenly the world turned deep blood red.
I woke up in Porn-Anthony’s apartment and found Nick creating a weed-pipe out of tin-foil. Porn-Anthony was yammering on and on about the women they’d pick up during the hours of my “unpleasantness” and how he’d fallen asleep on top of one of the girls with his cock still inside of her yodel-patch. I didn’t ask how half of my mustache and goatee found themselves shaved off. Nor did I inquire as to how I came to be wearing the uniform of a KFC employee.
Some things are best left unknown.