The Cure

The day after Pierre got married I was not feeling that good. Weddings of the old Sliverville gang made the fiercest punk rock shows look like a doped up Steepleton sunday school class. The last thing I remember of that hot summer's night in the historic Dope Hall was the piper playing before Pierre and Lucy got hitched.

After I had woken up and found that not even the world's best dope was going to cure my hangover I asked Sonja if she would like to take a ride down to the ballpark to take in a baseball game. She said, "I ain't going anywhere. What the fuck is the matter with you? And stop yelling!" So I hopped on my motorcycle and headed for the peace and tranquility of Dope City Stadium. I had never visited the joint but I had heard it was a great place to drink beer.

At the ticket booth I scored two seats right behind home plate. One for me and one for my beer. This was in the days before the ballpark became the popular beer drinking destination it is today. I was sitting right beside this red headed guy who thought he was Elvis Presley and his mom. As soon as the game got going the red headed motherfucker started giving it to the umpire at the top of his lungs. "Are you blind you fat pig?" "Never ate your carrots when you were a boy did you you fat bastard?" The guy never fucking shut up. My head hurt more and more.

So I drank more and more beer.

When the beer did not fix me up I went out to the parking lot to check on my bike and have a smoke.

Then I drank some more beer.

Eventually the umpire could not help but express his feelings for the guy. He walked back near the screen behind the plate and gave the guy the finger. I laughed so hard I almost spilled my beer.

"You can't finger me you fat slob!"

After the game I realized I was way too pissed to ride home so I veered into the team's general manager's office to see if there was some place I could chain up my bike for the night. The manager was a short happy looking guy I had seen chatting up many of his customers during the game. He said, "I'm glad you asked. We need customers like you returning on a regular basis. How many beers did you drink?"

"One every half inning."

"How can you do that?"

"I would have drank more but I had a hangover."

"Roll your bike over to the equipment shed behind third base. There's room for it there if you can come get it tomorrow."

"Thanks man." I shook his hand. "And don't worry I'll be back soon with a designated driver and a car full of guys who can drink twice as much as me."