Aha Kid Lewis

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Standing in the middle of nowhere, wondering how to begin. Lost between tomorrow and yesterday. Between now and then.

Was it tomorrow or yesterday? Is it now or then?

“Aha Kid, Pub?” Lewis asked in his thick mancunian accent. I thought for a few moments sitting on the cold porch as I was puffing on my pipe. Then I replied “Why not? I can have one or two”.

I stood up and we walked to the pub. Walked through the door to the sound of “aha boys! Guinness is on tap”. We sat at the bar. One, two, three, four.
We played pool and took frequent smoking breaks.

It was the roughest bar in town, we were told to avoid it at all costs.
They said “don’t go there. It’s for druggies and drunks”.
So we were determined to make it our local.
And we did.

Little did I know that it was all going to change.
Lewis was dancing on the edge of the mountain and he wasn’t that great of a dancer.

We drink Lorenzo (the pub landlord) out of Guinness and move onto the Bitter. He pulls out a plastic bottle and puts it on the bar top. He says “boys, this is homemade liquor from Romania” and then pours us two shots. We knock them back wincing as we do. He pours two more glasses and the same happens. We slap the bar top and I say “that’s bloody good stuff”. We leave.

I had a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label, and we wanted to sit outside drink, listen to music and smoke. It reached that time when it was just us, with a few others occasionally dropping down for a smoke and then going to bed.
It was the days of University Halls when the days were short and the nights were long.

So we sat scotch in hand, and a pipe clenched between the teeth. Lewis had rolled a cigarette and we were looking out across the halls complex. Slowly emptying the bottle.

And stamping our right foot to the tune.

A guy in a hood then called over to us, he didn’t have his keycard and he wanted out of the sports court. Lewis went over and was having a chat with him. I sat down, some people came down for a smoke, and I noticed the guy was still standing by the gate. I went over to him. He said “let me out and I won’t beat up your friend”. I replied “why don’t you just politely ask to be let out?” I swiped him out and then he went up to Lewis.

I missed the first few sentences of the conversation and entered with Lewis telling this chap, who towered over him, to “Suck my dick”. The chap started getting angry and pacing. Lewis started to find this very fucking funny to say the least and continued to make little comments to wind him up further. At one point falling to basic mockery. I said “Lewis, come on. He is going to hit you”. Lewis looked at me with a grin and gave me a wink.

At this point I started to consider the possibility that Lewis could be somewhat retarded. Yet I couldn’t help but admire him for it.

Someone asked the gentleman what needed to be done for him not to beat Lewis up, he responded with the demand that Lewis must beg for forgiveness on his knees. Lewis said “Fuck off aha Kid!”

The man punched Lewis. He stayed standing. The man punched him again he fell but quickly stood up, still grasping his glass. The man punched him again fell and the glass smashed against the floor. He got up again and at this point started shouting “come on you cunt! You call that beating?” The man hit him again and then started rummaging around looking for a suitable sized piece of glass to stab my friend. I jump in between Lewis and this man informing him to fuck off before I call security, to then personally kick him out of the halls of residence complex.

A month or so later Lewis informs me that he is dropping out of university and we go on one last bender, which is worthy of its own story altogether. Though I do not have the strength to tell it. Let’s just say he does an unspeakable deed with a very elderly lady in an alleyway.

He was one hell of a drinking partner who had one of hell of a talent for finding trouble.

[mistah willies]

He was one hell of a drinking partner who had one of hell of a talent for finding trouble.

And you, sir, have one hell of a way to tell a true tale. Well met indeed.

Why do we always find ourselves among those who capture our interest, and then they lead us into the bad parts of town, so to speak?

What does this say about us?

Perhaps it is that we do not sit home and knit.

We participate in life.

I hope that this it what it is.


Anyways, DRINK! to you, for a fine tale, Herman.


*CHUG*

[oettinger]

I`ll have to re-read this being halfway drunk only

[Mr. Viking]

a night out isn't a night out without a bit of scrapping. Well told, though you should have been quicker to throw a punch. The quicker you get in there the quicker you can win