On The Road Again With George W.
Dick D. Devlin is now offering me a "staff discount" for cigars, rather than supplying them free. Of course, the use of the term "staff" denotes some payment in the form of wages. I keep checking my Swiss bank account but cannot see any new deposits. I don't mind working for free, however, because to complain would mark me as some sort of communist union sympathiser and even though I'm poor and hungry I'm better than that. So long as I can afford to keep my subscription to Fox News and Soldier of Fortune magazine I'm happy.
I like Fox News, mainly because they keep saying such lovely things about my good friend George W. I met George W. in the early 80's through another friend of mine, the Australian tennis ace John Newcombe. Newc was the resident coach and party animal at the Ribs & Bourbon Tennis Club in Houston, where George W. was the reigning local champ. Knowing of my abilities with a racquet they invited me over to mount a challenge.
I knew I was going to win easily within 10 minutes of meeting George W., who picked me up with Newc from the airport the night before the match. Both of them were holding six-packs of beer as I walked into the arrivals hall, and both had finished them by the time we had loaded my luggage into the trunk of George W.'s BMW convertible. We roared out of the car park, the warm Texan air mixing with the Johnny Horton tape George W. was playing. "So y'all come all the way from Horseaustralia y'all say?" George W. yelled at me. "I ain't never ever even been outsiday the U.S. of A. y'all know. Do you'll have cars in Horseaustralia?" I started telling him he was an idiot when suddenly the car swerved across the road. George W. had decided to snort some lines of coke off the dashboard and forgot about steering.
I was a little amazed that two such drunken men with a car loaded with drugs were driving in such a cavaleer manner. I was more amazed when Newc got out his tennis racquet and started pelting balls at passers-by, wacking them randomly in the back of the head or on the ass.
We were just around the corner from the Bush family home when the flash of red and blue lights appeared behind us. "Oooh, boy!" George W. hollered, "Fuck em' I'm outta here, Yee-Hah!" He floored the BMW and the police gave chase. Beer bottles and women's underwear were flying out of the convertible every corner we took. It all ended when George W. went careering across his front lawn and rammed the car right into the poor lawn jockey guarding the letterbox. The police ran from the car and grabbed George W. just as he was falling out of the door. Newc sprinted off down the street and I was still sitting in the car watching the scene unfold.
George W. was laughing and hollering, coke across his face and a beer in his hand. The police were ready to throw the book at him. Just as they were about to arrest him the door to the residence flew open and out stormed Barbara Bush, followed closely by George H.W. and Former President Richard Nixon. Barb stormed up to the police officer, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him on to the bonnet of the car. "I can have you killed", she roared. The policeman knew by the steely look in her eye that he was in real danger, and also ran off down the road. She then grabbed George W. by the ear and led him inside. George H.W. followed close behind, begging her: "Now, Barb, don't be to hard on the boy." I got out of the vehicle, lighting a cigar and giving one to Nixon, who was looking through the police car for things to steal. "You know", Nixon told me, "I don't mind George H.W. but I adore Barbara. That woman really knows how to hate."
I learnt this first-hand the next day. George W. was lucky to return a serve he was so hungover, and I was a set to win the tournament. That was, until I was walking out of the change-room towards the court. Suddenly, Barb launched herself out from around the corner, a flying kick wacking me in the head and sending me falling to the ground. She grabbed my leg and planted the barrel of a small pistol behind my knee. "You beat my boy", she threatened, "and I knee-cap you."
With such an easy choice, I lit up a nice Montecristo and proceeded to smoke it as I stood on the court and let a drunken George W. thrash me.
I like Fox News, mainly because they keep saying such lovely things about my good friend George W. I met George W. in the early 80's through another friend of mine, the Australian tennis ace John Newcombe. Newc was the resident coach and party animal at the Ribs & Bourbon Tennis Club in Houston, where George W. was the reigning local champ. Knowing of my abilities with a racquet they invited me over to mount a challenge.
I knew I was going to win easily within 10 minutes of meeting George W., who picked me up with Newc from the airport the night before the match. Both of them were holding six-packs of beer as I walked into the arrivals hall, and both had finished them by the time we had loaded my luggage into the trunk of George W.'s BMW convertible. We roared out of the car park, the warm Texan air mixing with the Johnny Horton tape George W. was playing. "So y'all come all the way from Horseaustralia y'all say?" George W. yelled at me. "I ain't never ever even been outsiday the U.S. of A. y'all know. Do you'll have cars in Horseaustralia?" I started telling him he was an idiot when suddenly the car swerved across the road. George W. had decided to snort some lines of coke off the dashboard and forgot about steering.
I was a little amazed that two such drunken men with a car loaded with drugs were driving in such a cavaleer manner. I was more amazed when Newc got out his tennis racquet and started pelting balls at passers-by, wacking them randomly in the back of the head or on the ass.
We were just around the corner from the Bush family home when the flash of red and blue lights appeared behind us. "Oooh, boy!" George W. hollered, "Fuck em' I'm outta here, Yee-Hah!" He floored the BMW and the police gave chase. Beer bottles and women's underwear were flying out of the convertible every corner we took. It all ended when George W. went careering across his front lawn and rammed the car right into the poor lawn jockey guarding the letterbox. The police ran from the car and grabbed George W. just as he was falling out of the door. Newc sprinted off down the street and I was still sitting in the car watching the scene unfold.
George W. was laughing and hollering, coke across his face and a beer in his hand. The police were ready to throw the book at him. Just as they were about to arrest him the door to the residence flew open and out stormed Barbara Bush, followed closely by George H.W. and Former President Richard Nixon. Barb stormed up to the police officer, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him on to the bonnet of the car. "I can have you killed", she roared. The policeman knew by the steely look in her eye that he was in real danger, and also ran off down the road. She then grabbed George W. by the ear and led him inside. George H.W. followed close behind, begging her: "Now, Barb, don't be to hard on the boy." I got out of the vehicle, lighting a cigar and giving one to Nixon, who was looking through the police car for things to steal. "You know", Nixon told me, "I don't mind George H.W. but I adore Barbara. That woman really knows how to hate."
I learnt this first-hand the next day. George W. was lucky to return a serve he was so hungover, and I was a set to win the tournament. That was, until I was walking out of the change-room towards the court. Suddenly, Barb launched herself out from around the corner, a flying kick wacking me in the head and sending me falling to the ground. She grabbed my leg and planted the barrel of a small pistol behind my knee. "You beat my boy", she threatened, "and I knee-cap you."
With such an easy choice, I lit up a nice Montecristo and proceeded to smoke it as I stood on the court and let a drunken George W. thrash me.
posted by Major Curtis Garr (Ret.) at 06:21
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