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May 28, 2008
estrocide: cheap shots i have thrown, part vi
I'll make this one quick, as I'm getting sick of this theme.
Elan and I were seeing Al Green perform live. Standing in a giant mosh pit filled with swooning middle-aged women, we didn't exactly blend. Reverend Al picked up a bouquet of long-stem roses and started tossing them one by one into the audience. Elan simply must have a rose from Al Green, I decided.
You're cringing, aren't you?
I watched his eyes. When they fixated in our general direction, I hunkered down and placed my forearm on the lower back of the woman in front of me, my shoulder between the shoulder blades of the woman beside her. And when he tossed the rose, I exploded into the air, instinctively knocking down an entire domino line of middle-aged housewives. I must have taken out a half dozen women. The rose was mangled by the violence of my rebound, but I handed it to Elan anyway. She hid her face, presumably from intense pride.
I don't want to hear it. If you don't wanna get hit, don't come into the paint. Paint belongs to me.
posted by john at 2:12 AM • permalink