My friend Devastatin' Dave likes his knife, but I am from LA: I have gun stories. I have 3 stories but I think I will skip the 1st as it is not entertaining without loads of background information. Here is the 2nd, which took place in Paris in October 2003.
Jono and I walked into a bar on the edge of the Marais after dinner on a Saturday night. We had been upstairs in the same bar for karaoke the night before at about 4.30 a.m. This time we sat downstairs near the bar. Jono got the beers and we noticed that the barmaid was missing a few key teeth. The we noticed that one of the waitresses had tattoos all over her back. And then we noticed that certain people who appeared to be the bar's regular patrons also appeared to be completely cracked out. We also noted the man with the shaven head who had Chinese characters tattooed on his scalp in a highly irregular fashion. Then the bouncer started covering the shop-front windows with pieces of wood which had clearly been cut for that purpose. He covered them completely and then came inside and the next customers had to ring a bell to be let in. Jono and I were puzzled because we did not remember the bar being at all like this the night before. We realised however that it could have been even worse and we would have been oblivious to it. Jono said he felt on edge; I said it was fine, the place had some colour and character. Then the bald man reached around and scratched his back. His shirt came up a bit and I spotted the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I told Jono, he said 'drink up' and we were out the door within about 90 seconds.
Monday, April 25, 2005
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3 comments:
Oh you little nymphette admit it you love bald men with sketchy tatoos on their heads packing a .45
or was that me...well Las Vegas you never now eh babe?
Celinka Dionova
Packing? Did you say packing?
Of all the gin joints in all the world, you had to pick that one.
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