It is important to note that fighting is a way of life in West Virginia. Back in the mountains, getting into a fight was nothing out of the norm. This tale happened around 2005. Like all good fight stories it involves drinking, attitudes and fucked up people.
The evening started out pretty mundane. I was at my place just chilling out. A buddy of mine, Jon, called me up wanting to hang and have a few beers. I had nothing better to do so I got in my car and headed over to his house. He had a pretty big house and always plenty of beer. He was a cool dude so I was all about wanting to hangout for a while. He lived in Princeton which is a fucked up town full of drug addicts and street slime. The kind of town where folks will knife you over a few pills. I was so used to the damn area that I did not give a fuck. Jon was cool and I wanted to chat and get drunk. I really was not concerned about some street slime making trouble; damn was I wrong.
As soon as I showed up at Jon house we started drinking. He must have had at least three cases of beer on hand. Beer is damn cheap in America which was good for us because we were poor hillbillies. I think we were drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and Miller Ice. Wait a minute...Yes! It must have been PBR because that is the one beer which will attract gutter slime every single time. I don`t know what it is about PBR that brews such madness and attracts the shit of the earth. Maybe it is the fact that when I lived in the states 30 cans of PBR was only 13.00 bucks. It is a fun beer as well. It is granddad`s beer. Granddad always gets a good PBR buzz and tells ya war stories about fighting Nazis. Well, in my case I drink PBR and tell ya about drinking PBR and almost dying.
Any damn way, we were getting drunk and having a good conversation about libertarianism. Jon was a hard nosed working class rebel like myself but he was smart as well. We washed dishes together at a local restaurant. I was finishing up college, he was trying to survive along with a gang of other misfits living in his house. Regardless, we were enjoying the cheap PBR and the conversation very much. Unexpectedly he received a phone call from someone he clearly had a shaky relationship with. After a lot of swearing and threats of violence, Jon hangs up the phone and lets me know that,`Some good weed is on the way.` Only a fool passes up good weed so he had my interest. At that point I should have known that shit was about to turn sour. I was a bit too drunk to listen to my natural instincts.
About a half hour later I hear someone banging on the front door and yelling, `Jon! Open the fucking door! Jon! You bastard! You know I was coming! Why is the fucking door locked!` With such a greeting, gutter slime from the street had found its way to Jon`s front door. This was the same person who Jon had had a not so pleasant phone conversation with earlier. Jon opened the door and the guy barged into the house while talking pure shit the entire time. I laid eyes on a skinny red head guy who was so pale it looked like he had been on a four day coke binge. He wore clothes that were slightly dirty, but at least he did not smell bad. He took one look at me and said,`You the fuck are you? Are you a cop?` The only thing I could say back to this dickhead was, `No I`m not a cop. But you look like you need a drink.` I gave him a can of PBR which seem to chill him out a bit. He dragged Jon into a back room apparently to do a dope deal. I don`t know what happened in those ten minutes they were alone in that back room but something went wrong...really really wrong.
I heard a large crash and thump followed by swearing. I walked into the back room to find the two of them attempting to kick each other`s asses. There were throwing punches, falling down, trying to kick each other as they got up and then throw some more punches. I was just drunk enough to find the scene funny. I stepped back and let them go. It was like watching a fucked up street brawl between two people who should not be fighting anyone for any reason. Jon was drunk and the red head fucker was too skinny to put up a decent fight. Yet, they seemed determined to fuck each other up over something I am still not clear about to this very day.
After a while they started to run out of juice. They backed away from each other, breathing heavily, and giving each other the evil eye. A few `fuck you` were exchanged as the red head fucker lit up a joint and passed it to me. I took a few drags and handed it to Jon. The fight seem to be coming to an end until Jon took a long drag off the joint and said something to the effect of,`You always act this way when I have company. You have to disrespect me and embarrass me in front of my friends. You asshole!` Jon walked out of the room with the joint. His words and actions were just enough to spur chaos. The red head fucker pulled out a knife and started making threats to Jon. That bastard was waving his knife around daring anyone to do something about it. I had finally had enough of that piece of street slime. I walked right up to him, gave him a leg sweep, and a punch directly in the jaw. We went down headed for the floor as I wanted to get him down and beat the shit out of him...things did not go as planned.
He fell all the way to the floor. Unfortunately, my head meet the end of an exposed heating knob on an old steam heater. The details of what happened after that are fuzzy. When I regained control of my brain I remember there being a pool of blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on me and blood on the red head fucker. I was also laying into the bastard and saying random evil things. The bastard was screaming,`Jon! Get this crazy motherfucker off me!` From what I can remember, Jon pulled me off and the red head fuck started making more threats. After that I blackouted from blood lose. I remember some kind of argument occurred as I staggered out of Jon`s house. Somehow I actually drove back to Athens.
I ended up knocking on the door of my close friend Josh. He was the only person I knew who would help me. I should have went to the hospital but I was poor and did not want to have to pay for an overpriced stitch up. I seem to remember blacking out again when Josh answered his door. None the less good old Josh came though. He took me to my apartment and called one of our good buddies to help. They discovered that I was cut all the way to my skull. Josh cleaned the gash with rubbing alcohol and used super glue to close it up. For good measure he put several band aids over it which I replaced every day. It took several months for the gash to heal. I learned an important lesson. Never fight drunk with crazy gutter slime.
2 comments:
Sounds like most of my J.H. H.S. days :)
Lucky you didn't fall on that knife. Life is a trip how events fall our way and when were that young it never even dawns on us. If that knife had found your neck or chest...even by accident in a stumble youd be dead and buried and forgoten by most except your family....glad this turned out like it did.
Dirtbags got nothing to lose.....THAT's what makes them dangerous.
Yeah, that was a drunken crazy night. I had a lot of those kind of evenings back in West Virginia.
Princeton was a fucked up town. Pill head city all the way. That dude was off his rocker. I am not sure what became of him after that night. I still have the scare on my forehead from that night.
You are right, dirtbags are dangerous because they really do have nothing to lose.
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