Freedom Slash Victory
by Matt Ronquillo
Was chiefing like a whatever and on a pretty high dose of Concerta plus Adderoll of which the high I’ve deduced is a lot like cocaine but w/out the rapid shift into immediate slapstick behavior and conversation because of advancements in drug time-releasery as developed by the pharm companies settin’ yo body on a steady burn arc through the evening rather than getting you bucked up then dropping you down like I perceive cocaine does. Was wearing a multi-colored bird costume with cheap rubber-banded beak too, and all shit faced on Bacardi Limon mixed into Corona beer, both of which I smuggled into the bar. I’m talking about Halloween two years ago.
Went to the bathroom and came back from the bathroom and this group of shitheads with dumbass tattoos and trashy overpriced t-shirts and eight million dollar jeans called me “Toucan Fag,” which was pretty funny but I couldn’t give them the satisfaction, so I walked by their table and did my flustered bird impression, flapping my arm-strapped wings intensely and knocking their drinks and shit all over the place. Two of the group shot out of their chairs and started around the table toward me and I skipped back toward my table because my friends were these second generation Americans with lots of Latin take-no-shittery still permeating their being, who’d go in between me and the chaos I’d stir up regularly and thankfully, but a quick convergence of bar-goers on all sides blocked me from getting back to them.
I turned around to face the smack-down and these cops just happened to be doing a walk-through of the bar and went right in between me and the cunts I pissed off, so I threw a curveball at the whole situation and was all “Hey,” to the cops, those costumes fucking suck!” and then dove underneath a table and scrambled the fuck out the other side with two sets of enemies now. Jumped up and was looking home-free toward the exit when one of the guys from the table moved in to intercept me, so I just booked it heavy and cocked a feathered arm back and went, “Send ya back to cunt island!” and swung with all momentum way too early. Right then one of the cops had closed in on my right flank and checked me and I went flying hardcore onto a table. Feigned major injury for about .6 seconds while still sliding across the table then executed a sick roll over and landed on my feet, running, and that prick I swung at just had this look of wonder on his face as the cop was on one knee and I made the universal jack off motion with my hand behind me as I ran out the door to freedom slash victory.