Thread by @HoarseWisperer

Pub update.

The two drunk 50-something-year old men the size of cement trucks sitting next to me are singing Cypress Hill’s “Insane in the Membrane”.

It is not playing in the bar.

They’re just going a capella.

It’s not terrible actually.

In the most awkward segue ever, they just rolled straight into the old classic “Chantilly Lace”.

For convenience, I’m going to refer to the Booze Brothers as Plaid and Hoody from here forward.

Plaid is belting out a pretty serviceable version. Sadly, Hoody, is struggling.

Plaid went out for what I assume was either a smoke or some feat of strength.

I capitalized on the opening to get to know Hoody a bit.

Our exchange centered mainly on his insistence that a cartoon starring Mike Tyson, a pigeon and a ghost is a must see.

Oddly, I believe him.

I’ve now acquired Plaid and Hoody’s real names and I’m not going to lie here...

They are way less interesting than Plaid and Hoody.

In fact, if those were my names, I would seriously pursue having them legally changed to Plaid and/or Hoody respectively.

Musically, the two roads we know as Plaid and Hoody have now diverged in a wood.

Hoody is now offering up an extremely full-throated rendition of the Kinks “All Day and All Night”

Plaid is not contributing.

This feels like artistic differences. I’m worried about the band, guys

I told you this was heading in a fraught direction.

Plaid just legit told a woman he needs to hire a dog walker for Hoody.

Not for Hoody’s dog. For Hoody.

Said Hoody needs an hour of “park time” and he’s willing to pay for both it and a suitable collar - as statue requires.

Seriously, this is a freaking Cirque du Soleil of people watching. Plaid and Hoody are gymnasts of bar spectacle. And they’re refueling.

Plaid appears to be drinking scotch. Yet, they just did a shot.

Also of scotch.

So, basically, Plaid is drinking scotch both fast and slow.

<record-scratch-sound.mp3>

Stop. The. Music!

Yoko has entered the studio!

Plaid has a muse.

John had Yoko. Jim Morrison had Pamela Courson.

Plaid has Sweater.

The scene is crackling with tension!

Plaid’s muse, Sweater, has parted the duo like the Red Sea and taken up a seat between them at the bar.

Hoody has fallen silent. It hurts to see the light go out in the big guy’s eyes like that.

Cheetahs run. Dolphins swim. Hoody sings.

I fear the music has died.

Sweater seems lovely, for the record.

Nonetheless, her opening question to Plaid of “Did you take the recycling out?” feels like it dimmed the free-wheeling festival of human drunkenness that we had barely begun.

But her wine has arrived.

Plaid just confessed his drunkeness to Sweater.

Hoody, not one to be excluded, leaned in to say that he is NOT drunk because he has only had three beers...

...and six shots.

Hoody is a quivering Kilimanjaro at this pt.

A Jello mountain with a .25 blood-alcohol level.

I don’t even know what to say so I’m just going to transcribe:

Hoody: (laughing) You can’t get an STD from putting your mouth on a penis

Sweater: Yes, you can! There are meds for that.

Plaid: What has two thumbs and no contraindications? THIS GUY!

All: (huge laughter)

Oddly, the raucous laughter over herpes transitioned seamlessly into a conversation about Thai food... and now they’re getting their bill to go grab a bite.

Sweater is in the mood for a curry.

Plaid is hoping for pad Thai.

Hoody made a series of high-frequency noises not altogether unlike the call of the majestic Humpback as it reaches its traditional warm water breeding grounds.

I have no idea how to interpret them.

Check arrived and was paid.

Plaid and Sweater headed off for Thai. Hoody promised to meet them.

All three bar stools open up and are filled.

The new cast: Sensible Shirt, Sensible Shirt and Sensible Shirt.

Welp, this show just got canceled.

I just asked the bartender to play “Insane in the Membrane”.

Gone but not forgotten, boys.

Gone. But not forgotten.

Post-script: the Band’s “I Shall Be Released” just came on the sound system.

Some serious personal weight behind this one.

I may sing.

Someone may pull out their phone and start a thread about it.

Circle of life, right there.