Those Were The Days
"...It was a different time back then. This was '77 and '78. We would drive up and down the strip on Lauderdale beach the whole night. Talkin' to girlz. Drinkin' beerz.
This one kid, Bakey, was a Native American on the six-year plan. You know, fail a year, then play football for five yearz. He was a good-sized kid -- at least two-hundred seventy-five poundz. Not a ton of brain mass though.
Anyway, we were all packed in this Jeep cruising the strip and this random guy was crossing the road with a case of beer up in front of us. As we pass, Bakey just leans out over the barz of the Jeep and pops the guy straight across the face. Could you imagine getting hit at twenty milez an hour by a two-hundred seventy-five pound dood?
It scared the living snot out of him; then he was out cold. We came back around and the paramedicz were there.
Man, Bakey used to do crazy stupid stuff all the time. He has like six kidz now. As a Native American, he gets money for every kid from the Tribe. Last saw him probably ten yearz ago..."