Beer Summit

Consisting of atleast any odd number greater than 1 (for tie breaker purposes) this impromtu, or accidently organized, meeting of the minds is the cornerstone of any society that is, or dares to dream of being, successfull. Over seen by the drunkest and loudest one involved in these discussions, yet mediated by the soberest, decisions are made about, and solutions are developed for, various matters. Such as; how to handle current crisis at home and abroad, who would win in a fight between Mohumad Ali and your old high school shop teacher (the one with the freakishly strong thumb and a subscription to Boy's Life), which cars are the best and what you did to yours that night you had to much moonshine, have you seen that new girls ass at Hooters, etc (This list is dependent on the numer of beers consumed and the education level of all parties involved). Many of these types of "summits" can be found at any back woods beer joint, strip club (not the classy ones that athletes and "gentlemen" frequent, I'm talking about the one where there's a pregnant woman is ready to dance because she feels like the guy in the second row has been eye ballin' her all night and he looks like rich fell-er (maybe a carpenter or sheetrock hanger) but it turns out he is cock-eyed as hell and even broker, and the dancer on the stage now has one tit 2 sizes bigger than the other thus causing her fall to one side every now and then, and the prize jewel of the place is a double F brunnette with; a red wig on, a pair of Walmart high-heels, sexy cotton granny panties that are complete with extra strength elastic to hold all of them there 1 dolla bills and self-placed lipstick kiss marks strategically placed for maximum effectivness, and a wooden tooth with hair growing out of it. During the day while she's workin' as the assistant head cashier at Dollar General her name is Suzzie Anne, but when she turns it on later that night she answers to one name and one name alone: Sweetness. Yes my friends it is within the walls of these fine establishments that men and their "old ladies" map out the future and dare to follow it. Many discussions will take place on different nights (depending on payday and if the dog has enough food) yet there is one standing rule that must be followed: all disagreements must result in a good fight because: 1) that is how enemies become friends and 2) what good is it to leave air in the discussion for a week or so when the deepest of theories and the complexness of solutions and be proven and formed with a simple ass kickin'?

Scene: 6pm, Friday night, Uncle Joe's Hooter Haven. Bob and Jim have been finishing concrete all week and have a substancial fortune to show for it ($350, a piece). The bills are due, but they can wait. The dog is fed. He caught a squirrel and hasn't finished it yet. They enter the club in high spirits brought on by the cute gal at the Pump-mart who accidentally grazed Jim's hand while giving him his chewing tobacco and scratch off game card. On the far side sits Joe-Boy (his real name), an unsuspecting patron who also happened to stop at the same gas station and encountered the same cute girl. Let's listen...

Bob: Boy I'll tell you what right now son, she had herself an aaaaaaaa-ssssssss...WHOOOOOO (laughing at his own wit)

Jim: You ain't lyin' son, MMMMMMM just need me 5 minutes and I'd put in on her boy...THA WORKS!!!

Joe-Boy: Yall must be talkin' 'bout that girl at tha Pump-mart...

(Joe-Boy has engaged the pair and determined a common subject that can built upon.)

Jim: (Replying to Joe-Boy) Damn straight! I'd bend'er o'er an' show that bitch whaaaaattt's up boy.....

Bob: (To Joe-Boy) I'm Bob and this here perv is Jim, how are ya?

Joe-Boy: I'm Joe-Boy, good ta meetchya.

(They all shake hands thus formally beginning the "Beer Summit". A lengthy conversation about such matters as Bob suspecting that his girl friend is cheating on him, the rise in gas prices and Jim's way of getting rid of the crabs he got in high school. Six hours pass. Beer is consumed with great eagerness. The trio is having the best night of their lives thus far, even making plans to meet at Bob's uncle's land to go turkey hunting next week. Yes, three strangers have become great friends in a short amount of time, with minimal effort. Then it happens: the conversation has turned to their favorite NASCAR driver and while Bob promotes Tony Stewart's ability on any track Joe-Boy holds back a look of painful remorse for what is about to come of their freshly formed bond. For he has a sixth sense, knowing when an ass whoopin' is coming. The trade remarks concerning each others manhood and how each other will appear when they are finished. They step outside and stagger around each other thinking they are modern day gladiators sizing up each other for any sign of weakness, and then it begins...free for all slug fest. No winners come from this display tonight, only two losers lacking the sense to determine any type of rationalization. They'll see each other again and sure as hell bring this moment up when it is not neccessary, but for now the "Beer Summit" will disband, temperarilly.

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