Meeting Paulie

 Posted by on June 5, 2007  Add comments
Jun 052007
 

Look! 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.

  10 Responses to “Meeting Paulie”

Comments (10)
  1.  

    Fucking hell.

  2.  

    I dunno.

  3.  

    i know that “four in the morning
    crapped out, yawning” feeling

  4.  

    So it was a good night then!!

  5.  

    “fakin it” bock, your “slip slidin away” man.

    [hang my head in shame and think about what i’ve done]

  6.  

    Bock on man

  7.  

    ^5…i didnt see it coming, sugar!

  8.  

    Aw bock…..(I’m pretending to be disappointed but really I laughed).

  9.  

    I think it’s rather endearing the way you copy everything Twenty does.

  10.  

    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.

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