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Boobs and Bar Fights (562 hits)

Category: General

Rating: -0.5 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)

Submitted by Vyktoriah (View user info) at 2007-05-06 21:52:06 EDT

So last Thursday started as a quiet night in. I'm back in the States visiting family this month, and I had anticipated an evening of television and crocheting (yes, I really am that sad). Instead, after he gets home from work, my brother - the bartender - suggests going out for a drink to his bar.

"We'll just stay for a drink or two," he says.

I don't worry about getting too dolled up as this is a redneck bar in a small town, and my brother's pretty well regarded as being protective of his big sister. We hop in his Mustang and jet down the road to the next town over. We arrive at the bar, and it's pretty empty. It's 7:30 on Thirsty Thursday, so I figured there'd be more people there. That said, I'm used to English pubs where the yobs and chavs fill every available seat every hour of the day!

Anyway, we sit down and he orders himself a Bud Light (he's watching his weight now that he's banging a model) and orders me up a Long Island Iced Tea after I beg the bar maid for something that "doesn't taste like alcohol."

As we sit and chat and catch up on what we've been doing with our lives, the bar starts to fill up with other people. One of the regulars, a 43 year old redneck named Mark comes and plops down on the stool next to me and immediately begins staring at my tits. My brother immediately speaks up and makes introductions, including a very loud warning to Mark to watch where he sets his eyes and what he does with his hands. I'm told in no uncertain terms that Mark WILL flirt with me, but just to ignore him.

I can generally hold my own with men. My boobs have been getting me in trouble since I was 12, so a girl has to learn to defend herself.

Anyway, two Long Island Iced Teas and a trip to the ATM later, and everything is merry in the bar. Mark is keeping his hands to himself, despite his constantly diverted attention, and I have some Zeppelin playing on the Juke Box.

Suddenly I notice that two new men have arrived in the bar. One is a weasley guy, shorter, thinner and with one of those dodgy Redneck mustaches that just SHOUTS pervert. The other was a stockier (read: fatter) guy with a very closely cropped hairdo and goatee. This guy looks familiar. These two are a bit loud and rambunctious, but hey, it's a bar.

The tubby fella shouts for the bar maid to come over and asks for a beer. Since he and his friend are CLEARLY drunk, she refuses to serve him and walks away. As she does, she says his name. That's when it clicks in my head, "Oh shit! I know who this guy is!"

At that same moment, he suddenly looks at me and his eyes go wide. He shouts my name across the bar and informs me, "I used to go to school with you!" I look around the bar trying to find my brother, and I see him standing at the juke box searching, no doubt, for some White Stripes or My Chemical Romance. I turn back and look at this guy (Bart is his name) again. I used to know him about 12 years ago when we were in 8th grade. His entire family is trash, and he was no exception. A fuck-up since kindergarten, he was thrown out of school several times over the years, but he always made it back. Even so, I haven't seen him since we were 14.

He repeats again, "I used to go to school with you!"

I look back at him and nod. "Yep. I remember. I used to be shit scared of you."

He grins nice and wide. "You were SCARED of ME? Why??" He's roaring now. "Why would you be scared? Is it because I want to SUCK YOUR BIG TITTIES!?"

Jesus. This guy is drunker than I thought. I look him dead in the eye and hold up my left hand, indicating my wedding ring. "I'm married, thank you very much."

"No shit," says he. "How about that! Congratulation. I'm really happy for you. Seriously."

I don't know what to say, so I go back to talking to Mark. Bart and his friend have obviously had enough of the atmosphere and they begin to make their way out of the bar. As they do, a little bald man two stools over from me mutters under his breath, "That's no way to talk to a lady. You should apologise."

At this, Bart gets angry and calls the bald man an ugly bastard.

Suddenly, bald guy's female companion gets up and, being equally as drunk as Bart, gets in his face and starts screaming and pushing him. Bart pushes her back, and she hits the bar hard. Bald guy gets pissed off and lunges for Bart. Bart's friend goes for bald guy. Stools start flying, tables are knocked over, and bald guy's girl gets back up and throws THREE solid punches in Bart's face. She then grabs his shirt, pulls it up over his head and punches him AGAIN.

The bar maid is screaming that she's called the police, the patrons are all trying to pull the four fighters apart, and my brother has finally gotten over his bewilderment and gotten between Bart and the bald guy to keep them away from one another. After a few more half-hearted lunges, Bart and his friend finally leave the bar.

The rest of us are standing around looking retarded and wondering what the hell happened. Just as we finish straightening the chairs back up, in walks Bart again. His shirt had been ripped from his body, and he is ANGRY. He shouts at bald guy's girl friend. He yells, "That was a $50 shirt! I'm gonna take $50 out of your FACE!"

And it all starts over again. This time, I jump in the fray, tackling the drunken chick and knocking her to the ground. Bald guy gets pushed hard into me, and I fly head first into the bar, knocking my brains together. Bald guy's girlfriend grabs a giant beer mug from the nearest table and hurls it as hard as she can toward Bart. It misses and hits a random spectator right in the throat. Bart's friend has blood running from his forehead.

The bar maid once again screams that the police are outside, and this spooks Bart and friend. We're told later that they are wanted in three states, and the last thing they wanted was to be caught. As they leave, they invite bald guy and his girl to meet them in the parking lot across the street.

By this point, I have grabbed bald chick's girlfriend, and I take her outside to get her to calm down. She offers me a smoke, and I take it. She wants to buy me a drink, but the bar maid refuses to serve her. As soon as the police arrive, bald guy and his girlfriend split.

The rest of the night is spent drinking as much as possible and fighting Mark off as he insists on protecting my modesty by continuously grabbing my breasts and pulling my shirt up so that my cleavage is covered. My brother barks at him each time he does this, and after he sneakily LICKS me, my brother finally gets rid of him for me.

At the end of the night, I go home, somehow $6 richer than when I arrived and with a feeling that somehow I am responsible for a very RARE bar brawl in my brother's bar.

And since no good bar story is complete without illustration, I've included a picture of the offending cleavage. If you ever see me at a bar, just remember - these tits have already heard every pick-up line.

<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v327/moonlightmuse/Soph.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"></a>

<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v327/moonlightmuse/Tongueagain.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"></a>

User Reviews

Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-05-08 17:56:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1

I believe this belongs here...

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Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2007-05-08 17:50:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2

You're really not very pretty, are you? It's too bad you're also clearly insecure enough that you can't even summon the confidence to make the best of what minimal attractiveness you have. Instead, you're performing like this: sticking out your cow tongue and parading your udders to win the accolades of a temporary internet audience. Stripper-approval is what you're seeking, and receiving. You will have to show more and more and whore yourself further and further until you finally make a beaver shot post and fade into obscurity, leaving your dignity hanging on post number 110 thousand-something like soiled panties on a crack-dealer's bedpost. No one here will love you for these antics, no one here will even like you for them. People here will only give you positive ratings to encourage you to degrade yourself further. Carry on, then, if you crave the attention of faceless perverts and seek to have the +2dollarbills tucked into your spangly e-thong as you writhe on the Uberpole for a few more minutes. It'll end with you sad, your posts forever out there for your kids to find, and the audience moved on to another just like you. And there are many just like you.

Submitted by vyktoriah (user info) at 2007-05-06 22:32:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Her: 'Hey, we was, like, wonderin'...'
Me: (Shouting) 'MATTHEW!!! Fetch me my Chaving rifle!'
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OMG Priceless!!!!

Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2007-05-06 22:14:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

heard all of these?

http://www.ubersite.com/m/88827

Submitted by vyktoriah (user info) at 2007-05-06 22:08:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Cheers. Re-posted. I'm a dick.

Submitted by darko (user info) at 2007-05-06 22:04:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

upload the pictures, don't link them