The sign said "Thank You for your business!" I wanted to rip that sign down, cut it into ninja stars and give the guy a cannibal turd/ninja star enema. But I did what any controlled, normal member of civilized society would do, I went to my car, took a shit in a bag, found his caddilac, opened the hood and dropped the shit into his air conditioning vent. Then I broke the back window and the alarm went off. When he came out of his shop, I put on my Irish greenskeeper disguise, hid some bushes and waited. He looked at his car and turned off the alarm.
“Excuse me, but do you mind if I play through,” I said jumping out of the bushes.
“What the fuck?”
I took the sand wedge, walked in front of him, dropped my ball, and then golf clubbed him straight in the dick.
“Let that be a lesson to you, fukram,” I said and calmly walked out of there. He dropped to the ground and started foaming at the mouth.
When I got home, there was a message on the machine. It was from some police officer named Officer Jim Warmley. He wanted to speak to me about an assault in a parking lot. I called the number and got him on the phone.
“This is Jim Warmley.”
“Hello Mr. Warmley, this is Archie Bluto, you called me earlier.”
“Yes. I got a complaint from the owner of Jebb’s Tangblast Liquidators. He says you hit him in the penis with a golf club.”
“What? A sand wedge is not just any golf club, its one of the most versatile clubs you can have in your quiver. A real swiss army knife of a hitter. Give me a putter, a three wood and a sand wedge and I can out golf just about any fuck steak on the course.”
“So you did hit him in the penis with a sand wedge?”
“If you’re gonna call a perfect golf swing a hit, then you’re sadly mistaken officer. I did nothing of the sort. Sure I executed an amazing follow through on a master class swing and his dick happened to get in the way. But if you’re gonna stand there and tell me that I hit him in the penis, you’re gonna have to find another sucker to pin this on.”
“Mr. Bluto, I feel like I am not getting through to you. Did you or did you not swing a golf club in the direction of Jebb Jebbstump the owner of a tangblast liquidator this afternoon.”
“Alright then. Thank you for your time.”
“Thank you and go fuk yourself.” I slammed the phone down, cracked a beer and eased the Laz-y-boy into launch position. The topless golf tournament was just about over. I lifted up the armrest and flipped the toggle switch. My six-chamber gravity bong lowered down to my mouth. I pressed the ignition and a bald midget on the roof sparked up the lighter. My lungs filled up with the smoke and I closed my eyes.
I heard the keys in the doorway and immediately hid the bong. The house cleaner comes early on Monday evenings, I had totally forgotten. She was from Quebec and only spoke Portuguese. I snapped up from my Laz-y-boy and went into the bedroom to nap while she did her things.
I was waiting for her to leave when I heard someone else come in the house. It was a female voice so I didn’t get angry. She sometimes has her friend over and they team clean the house. I walked down the stairs and I was totally wrong. It was my ex-wife. She spoke perfect Portuguese and they were chatting on the patio smoking cigarettes.
“Hello Mable,” I said, “what brings you here?”
“I was just in the area and decided to drop by.”
“Cool. I was just watching golf upstairs, can I get you something to drink?”
“Yeah. I’d like a cran and wolf piss,” she said.
“Coming right up. Does Eurvotta want anything?”
Mable asked the cleaning lady in Portuguese. She nodded her head and said something that sounded like “worms and puke”.
“She’d like a turbo blast with a beer back.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
I went to the bar and fixed the drinks and then poured a Speefnarkle for myself.
“You still drinking Speefnarkles Artie?”
“You know they played a major roll in ruining our marriage don’t you?”
“That and all the grass smoking. You have given that up right?”
“Over my dead body.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Anyway, I’m not here to give you any grief.”
“I’m so fukin relieved,” I said.
“I’m here cause I forgot some stuff when I moved out.”
“There is a duffel bag in the attic that I left.”
“The one with all the guns?”
“You looked in my personal stuff?” she said.
“Course I looked in it. You’re one month too late though. I got rid of them on eBay.”
“You’re kiddin right Archie. You’re kidding?”
“Yeah I’m kidding. Though I may need one of them. I had some trouble with an asshole salesman today.”
“And you want to kill him?”
“No, just perforate him a little. Teach him about fair business practices.”
“And this is for the good of humanity? You could get in a lot of trouble for shooting someone.”
“Yeah. I know. I probably won’t, but I sure would love to.”
“Well Arch there’s a big difference in doing and wanting to.”
“I know. I know. I already golf clubbed the guy in the dick. I guess that’s enough. I’m still irked though.”
“You know what I do when I’m pissed off,” said Mable.
“You cheat on your husband?” I said.
“Very funny. Seriously though, I’ve found something that really helps in those situations.”
“Well I would love to know what it is.”
“I don’t think it would work for you though.”
“Well I wouldn’t know unless I tried,” I said.
“Have you ever tried a cannibal turd/ninja star enema?”