In my younger days I drank in the bars with all kinds of strange motherfuckers. Most of those strange motherfuckers were my friends.
Drinking in punk rock bars like the Bad Allah was the best. That is where I got to drink with the small knot of people who were somewhat as fucked up as me. But one legendary bar and one crowd of likeminded twisted brothers and sisters is never enough for any drunk.
Luckily for the punk rockers of Dope City, Pierre did not often visit the bars most folks are afraid to walk by, nevermind walk into. Whenever Pierre did come downtown for a little fun somebody got their head kicked in. If I went to the can and saw someone heading for the exit when I was heading back to the bar looking like they had been hit by a lamp pole I knew Pierre had warned them for the last time and they had not heeded the warning.
Some of the bars Pierre liked best were just south of the line. "Canadian bars are fine and our fat chicks are way better than the fat chicks in the States but there is something that is just better about drinking in a bar down there."
Pierre likes his women to be the size of at least two women. "Somebody's got to fuck the fat ones. You should try one Beer. They try harder than the skinny ones."
Pierre hated guys who drove Corvettes. "They're all fucking assholes." I had heard he had pissed in the gas tanks of hundreds of Corvettes in bar parking lots but had never seen Pierre in action until we were ready to get in our cars and drive drunk and crazy back home to Canada one night.
This particular Corvette had its gas cap placed in a hard spot to get piss into. I was drunk and I was pissed so it looked to me like Pierre was piss humping the poor little Corvette under the American moon. As he pissed Pierre was talking to the over-priced fibreglass piece of shit. "Come on baby, squeeze me!"
After he shook his dick into the 'Vette I asked him if anyone had ever caught him pissing into their fast car. He said, "No. But I keep hoping someone will one day."