Tonight I went to a friend’s ‘divorce party’ at Langano Lounge. It was an uneventful evening until we all moved out onto the patio to have cigs and chat. A white-trash dude and his friend decided to make our acquaintance. They had over heard our converstion about women needing to carry a pocket-knife in Fresno for protection and they became very interested. The guy that was clearly the leader wore a denim jacket straight out of the 80’s, complete with shoulder pads. His friend had long hair, glasses, a stutter and a baby arm. That’s right, I said a baby arm. An arm that was very much smaller than a normal, adult arm. They began to ask me the specifics on why I would feel the need to carry a knife, would I have the balls to use it, etc… Luckily the leader with the shoulder pads had been to Fresno before so he knew where I was coming from. Baby arm made sure to stutter over and over about the dangers of rape, therefore convincing me that he was in fact a rapist. Both of them agreed i needed to be carrying a knife at ALL times.
Shoulder pads then launched in to an elaborate story about how he and a friend were in Cincinnati , and they purchased a hooker. They said that at some point the night “turned bad” and the hooker got their knife and used it against them.
A Saturday night hooker story is always a ‘win’.
The moral of the story is “Never let a hooker get a hold of your knife”.
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