Punch Poker
a little reminiscence from last night, wednesday, january 15th, 1997.
andy and his compadres mike and kevin were preparing to leave hepburn's for kevin's for some
post-hepburn's turbulence. kevin's st. vitus dance imitation on the roof of andy's car
nearly collapsed the poor little vehicle, but a few interior ceiling
punches served to right the temporarily malformed dolt dome.
the three non-mock-turtleneck wearing studpopovers hit kevin's around 2:30am
after stopping in eternal farms for some sketchy dogs and caffeine/alcohol
type physiology altering beverages. they ran into a friend, stefan, going
into the charles and he joined them for the festivities. amanda and nay
were also in attendance. shortly after the gathering got underway, three
other gentleman entered the apartment...brian, fred, and roy; roy being
especially dim.
the conversation took more turns than lombard street, with the focal points
being music (andy and stefan being elated to discover each other's deep
admiration for kraftwerk), and politics. The political diatribe was a
result of roy's insistence on shouting out an incessant string of
unsolicited, impertinent statements about everything from the evils of
nuclear energy to the billions of hong kong residents who'd want to invest
in andy's white ass to the various growths he had personally seen on
president clinton's penis.
needless to say, it was not long before andy began conjecturing aloud to
mike how funny it would be if a lufthansa jet were to serendipitously put
an abrupt end to this simpering idiot's life. the two proceeded to loudly
discuss the exquisite pleasures that would surely result from hearing this
character's neck crack on the sidewalk after a high speed window ejection.
roy was impervious to these insults, as his mental beer muscles had mired
him in an opaque fog of inebriated nonchalance. he began making comments
that were offensive to certain parties in the room (example: touting
himself as 'anti-chink' with two asian women present, both of whom were unconcerned
with his ramblings). kevin, a paragon of tolerance, and andy, the minister of
patience, seized upon the opportunity to reprimand the guy;
not because they were offended but simply because he had given them an excuse to
liven up an otherwise mundane evening.
it wasn't even the absurd nature of his commentary that was so irritating
it was simply the worst emission of incessant, disinteresting pap since the last time dan quayle made a public speech.
in fact, it would be a fair assessment to say that this jackanapes's mouth ran faster than
flo-jo on a good day. even stefan, a man of nonviolence, was moved to want to strike the guy repeatedly until he
slipped into a coma.
eventually, fred ended up playing with brad's synthesizer while kevin, amanda,
nay, brian and stefan played cards and mike and andy chatted with kay (?) a
late arrival (and the other aforementioned asian girl) about relationships
and sports with roy providing one asinine soliloquy after another in the
background.
andy engaged roy in an utterly ridiculous quarrel about the relative
toughness of rugby as compared to soccer. it was at this point that
everyone had heard all they could stand out of roy and he was temporarily
banished. during roy's absence, kevin tried unsuccessfully to initiate a
game of strip poker, pissing off kay in the process. after a brief
tooling session in which kevin basically told her she was being prudish for not
wanting to bare her goods (which i assumed he'd already seen), she told him he
was being a dick.
so in an act of unreasonable pride, he told her that she was free to leave
and so she did. since fred had traipsed off with roy in an attempt to calm
him down and kay had stormed out, only kevin, stefan, brian, nay, and
amanda remained as willing participants in the strip poker match and mike
and andy sat talking about music and sex.
the strip poker match never happened, though, as roy came bustling into the
room being just as brash and boisterous as he had been before his exile. stefan
got this brilliant idea to turn the otherwise banal five-card-draw game
into a real contest...one we called 'punch poker.' in this game, the point was
to lose...you see, the loser of each hand was called upon to deliver a
mighty blow to the body of the obstreperous roy. the winner of each hand
was awarded the priviledge of selecting the location to bear the brunt of
the buffeting. andy told roy he was the essential element in the game, as
his body was to serve simultaneously as the empassioned mascot for the
victors and the source of commiseration for the losers. inebriated beyond belief, roy
bought the theory and complied.
surprisingly enough, the first loser was andy. brian won and determined
that the first strike would be to the left arm. without getting to his
feet, andy unleashed a very merciful (yet solid) shot the the left bicep
which sent roy listing and reeling from the foot of kevin's bed all the way
to his front door. kevin lost the next round and was charged with
delivering a charley horse. he waited until 'ol roy was babbling idly
before uncorking a sinister wallop that unfortunately glanced off roy's leg
but still packed enough force to bring a pained grimace to roy's face.
everyone howled! brian was the next to lose and mike insisted on a right
bicep battering. brian knocked him off balance and he teetered
precariously like some demented tightrope artist before regaining enough composure to
remain upright.
his stint as an erect being came tersely to an end as andy purposefully
threw the round in the name of another chance to throw a punch with some
actual intent to harm (this idiot roy was still running his mouth!).
stefan, having won the hand, exercised a disgusting gesture of leniency,
making andy settle for a strike to the leg. not wanting to waste a chance
to shut the human punching bag up for the night, andy fired a precision
shot
about mid-hamstring, holding back slightly for fear of snapping poor roy's
femur. the swing staggered roy and induced an uproarious fit of anguished
cries and incomprehensible oaths and obscenities.
roy was more or less out of commission by this point, and had taken to
asking permission before speaking, but mike had yet to get a shot, so we
made sure he lost a hand so he could join in the fun. kevin won and
assigned mike a delicious dish to the collarbone. amanda admonished him to
deck roy so hard that he'd lay on the ground twitching for a full minute
and
a half. mike wound up and dealt a thunderous blow to the upper left side
of
roy, whose body toppled into the corner like a felled evergreen at
christmastime. roy lay writhing on the ground for well over the
pre-ordained 90 second limit amanda had set and we all had a hearty laugh
at
the expense of the sad sack crumpled on the floor.
when he finally arose, roy sort of blended into the woodwork, and not so
much as a peep escaped his cowering form without expressed permission from
mike, kevin or myself. mike really summed up the hilarity of the
situation,
stating "you can't even pay to go and do this...this fucking rules!"
when the game was finally over around 4:30 a.m., i had to leave for work.
leaether strip's "crash flight 232" was my theme song on the way home as i
was sleeping soundly on several occasions
in heavy traffic. visions of being an indentured servant for all eternity
due to injuring someone beyond repair danced through my head. it was not
fun nor was it easy...but the pepsi, my sheer will, and some bountiful
fucking luck helped me prevail. and i'd do it all again!