Meeting Paulie
Posted on Tuesday, June 5, 2007Look! Over there! It was Filthy Richie tugging at my sleeve.
What?
Over there, beside the speaker. Isn’t that -?
Jesus, I said. I think you’re right. It’s -
It is, said Filthy Richie. It’s Paul Simon.
Christ Almighty, I said. Little Paulie. I haven’t seen him since the thing with the snake and the three Russian - ah, you know what I mean.
Richie nodded sadly. Will I ever forget?
Call him over, I said. Hold on, I think I caught his eye.
Paul looked up, recognised me and in an instant he was pushing his way through the baying crowd.
Bock! he jumped up on a chair and threw his arms around me. And Filthy Richie! Jesus, I haven’t seen you guys since . . . since . . . oh wait. Now I remember. He shook his head sadly.
So tell me, I said. How’s things? How are you these days?
Old, he said. I’m old.
We’re all old, I told him. Any word of Art. Ever meet him these days?
Yeah, he said. We even talk to each other a bit these days, but he’s still an asshole.
Here you go, said Filthy Richie, returning from the bar. Wild Turkey for you, Bock, and a five-litre tankard of Kulminator for Paulie.
No, thanks, said Paul. I quit.
Richie took a step back, leaned against the wall, blinked, looked at me and croaked, What?
I quit drinking. It was bad for me.
But you’re the guy who won the All-Alaska beer-swilling and blubber-swallowing contest three years in a row.
True, smiled Paul wistfully.
And the Trans-Siberian shoe-polish-gulping trophy.
Ah, happy days, agreed little Paul. Go on then. I’ll just have that one.
Twelve hours later, I woke up in some dank Latvian bordello. Filthy Richie stared at me blankly, the way he becomes after half a kilo of brown mescalin. Slumped in the shadows, I recognised our friend Paul Simon. He wasn’t looking too good.
Paul, I shook him. Paul! You all right?
Nnngnnggnng! he groaned.
Paul, wake up.
Aaaarrrggghh! he said and threw up where he sat.
What the fuck - ?? I jumped back. Jesus, Paul, don’t tell me you’re -
Yup, he confirmed. Still queasy after all those beers.
Stumble it!
YOU'VE BEEN SHOUTING ABOUT ...
June 6th, 2007
Fucking hell.
June 6th, 2007
I dunno.
June 6th, 2007
i know that “four in the morning
crapped out, yawning” feeling
June 6th, 2007
So it was a good night then!!
June 6th, 2007
“fakin it” bock, your “slip slidin away” man.
[hang my head in shame and think about what i’ve done]
June 6th, 2007
Bock on man
June 6th, 2007
^5…i didnt see it coming, sugar!
June 7th, 2007
Aw bock…..(I’m pretending to be disappointed but really I laughed).
June 7th, 2007
I think it’s rather endearing the way you copy everything Twenty does.
June 7th, 2007
Badgerdaddy: Indeed
Nora: Neither do I
Galwaywegian: Don’t we all.
Ellen: Ah, you know. So-so.
Manuel: But of course, you’re from Barcelona.
Kit Bán : OK. I will.
Savannah: That could be dangerous
Aisling: Good. I’m glad. Laughing is good and we should nall do more of it.
Langford: Howya Twenty. Nice to see you again.