Sitting in a undisclosed dive bar up on Cervantes early this morning with news journalist Luther (Scoop) Heggs, drinking kerosene flavored Bloody Marys and snorting nitrous oxide poppers, I commented to Scoop on how the bar we were currently getting shithoused in was getting by with staying open.
Scoop lit up a Camel with shaking hands.. Luther had the curse of the journalist...which means he was a world class hardcore lush. At least a quart of vodka a day.
"The owner paid a crackhead to break into a Circle K that was being built and had him rip off one of those fucking hot dog roller machines."
I scoped out the bar. "Where the hell is it at?"
He pointed to a far corner with a shaking finger. "Next to the pin ball machine sitting on that old TV tray."
It looked like there maybe two or three burnt to a crisp hot dogs that from my vantage point looked like dried out turds.
"Looks inviting."
He reached into his pocket and laid a pocket recorder on the table.
"I got an interview on the phone last night with the Commissar of Perdido Key. I wanted to ask him about how he felt about the new Pensacola mask ordinance and the fines that you can rack up if you refuse to wear one. Him being such a big Libertarian and man of the people and all that bullshit."
"I'd bet $100 that dickwhistle doesn't even know who the Libertarian candidate is." (By the way, it's Jo Jorgensen, a woman, so the Commish wouldn't go for that anyway)
Luther hit play.
A phone rang about a dozen times and then..."Commissar! Speak!"
"Mr. Commissar, Sir. It's Scoop Heggs." Luther sounded like he was really shitfaced when he made the call.
"What in the hell do you want?"
"Just calling to see if I could get a comment on the City Council's decision to make wearing protective masks (It sounded on the tape like he said mashes instead of mask - Fucking Rummy!) mandatory with fines possible and maybe Federal prison time." (Prison time! What the fuck was Scoop drinking last night?).
This monologue ended with an audible burp that sounded like it was muffled poorly into Luther's fist and a loud, un-muffled, rolling fart...into his pants!
"I don't give a hot dolphin piece of feces about those assholes on the Council and their ridiculous decisions. Here on the Key I make the decisions. And I've only authorized one kind of mask, and only then if needed. And no more questions from, you drunk heathen! You want an interview? Well, I'll give you one you won't forget!"
I could hear Scoop throwing up into what sounded like a trash can by the echo as the Commissar ranted on:
"I'm sure your liberal ass wouldn't know about poor Mark and Patricia McCloskey down in that toilet of a town, St. Louis. But that is my main concern now! Not some COVID-19 mask hoax perpetuated on the Flag waving American public!"
"Those damn protesters attacked them! Attacked them at their very home and they defended their property by bearing arms. True warriors! True Patriots! I'm a Sailor! A Sailor, do you hear me? And I know a True Patriot when I see one." I could hear the Commissar choke up for a second before he caught his second wind.
"Until you called and interrupted me, I was putting together an international Jet Ski crew to ride in the KISS TRUMP'S TRAITOROUS ASS FLOTILLA on July 5th. I'm bringing in riders as far as Iowa. I intend on getting the word out."
"I've got a GoFundMe page for this poor couple and I intend to raise more than my own which is enormous. Way over 200K!"
I could hear Scoop snoring lightly over the Commissar's rant who was screaming so loud I thought he was going to come out of the tiny speaker.
"SCOOP! SCOOP! ARE YOU SLEEPING YOU SON OF A BITCH? DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? SCOOP!!!!!"
MAHALO
Afsana
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