I woke up late yesterday, grabbed a cup of coffee, headed onto my front porch, and took a deep breathe of air.
"Freedom," I whispered ever so gallantly out to the world as I released a full semester's worth of stress and surveyed the world around me.
I saw the neighbor's kids playing across the street on the sidewalk, chasing each other up and down the block.
I saw a few cars drive by, I sat on my bench, and thought, "this is it, this is happiness."
"Hey neighbor," I heard from off to my left,
"How's it goin buddy!?" I screamed back wavin my coffee mug up high in the air,
"uhhh," said my neighbor Haas as he strode across the street towards my house.
Haas's quick stats:
Haas born and raised on a steady diet of fighting booze and Getting Chicks. His hobbies as a younger man included fighting, booze, and Getting Chicks. He liked going to bars as a young man, because there was a chance of fighting, booze, and getting chicks.
Haas got married a few years ago, and he's having a hard time adjusting to the adult world. Every so often he can be spotted on his rooftop with a hammer, a beer can, and Journey blasting on a portable radio, venting frustration about not being able to fight, or pick up chicks.
He also refers to his garage as the house of pain... and tries to invite people over to it all the time, saying things like , "tomorrow morning bra (that's long island for bro), head on down to the house of pain"
and back to the story,
Finally, he makes his way up to my front porch and stands on the steps with his hands on his hips, he's got his lawn mowing bandana on, and his ripped t-shirt that says no fat chicks flapping in the winter breeze.
"You seen my kids?" He asked
"uhh, Haasy, they're right there," I said pointing across the street to where his kids were running up and down the sidewalk,
Haas turned to the children quickly and screamed, "Aight Daddies, I'm gonna need you to go in the house," he calls his kids Daddy, which is very cool for those of you who don't realize.
"Ok," he said, turning to me, "so you saw my kids,"
"Yeah, of course I did,"
Haas pulled a joint out of his pocket, lit up and started puffing away. If Haas were a professional wrestler, this would be his signature move, first he would hit his opponent over the head with a Tire Iron, with a cool word etched into it like, "PAGAS," or something like that... and while he had the guy pinned on the mats, he'd light up and toke the shit out of his victory.
"well," he said right before doing a hold in on a lung full of smoke, "could you do me a favor?" he croaked still holding deep,
"Sure," I said
Haas breathed out all the way and looked me up and down real quick, " could you put some clothes on?"
" So that's how it's gonna be huh?" I said, obviously offended,
Haasy was cool about most things, but he could be a real dick sometimes,
"I'm sorry man," He said as he began to walk, letting his hand glide across the metal supports in front of my house, he seemed genuinely sorry for a second.
Haas froze for a moment, letting his hand slide up and down the metal post,
"watchya doin Haasy?" I asked, but he didn't say anything
he just started using his fingernail to etch something into the column, I couldn't see it at first, but Haas dropped his hand when he was done to grab a 40 OZ of Old E.
As he proceeded to chug down the oversized beverage in one gulp, I figured out what he had carved onto my house.
"ppPAGAS," I stuttered bewilderedly as Haasy dropped the 40 straight to the ground, ripped the support beam straight out of the ground and swung it hardcore, sending me flying onto my neighbors lawn,
"PEGAS BABY!!" he screamed, as he dropped the beam, and started pounding his chest...
Before that man even reached his front door, maybe ten young girls, with bon jovi hair, leather jackets, ripped jeans, and a whole lotta bubble gum had thrown themselves into his arms, as he made his way into his house....
"Freedom," I whispered ever so gallantly out to the world as I released a full semester's worth of stress and surveyed the world around me.
I saw the neighbor's kids playing across the street on the sidewalk, chasing each other up and down the block.
I saw a few cars drive by, I sat on my bench, and thought, "this is it, this is happiness."
"Hey neighbor," I heard from off to my left,
"How's it goin buddy!?" I screamed back wavin my coffee mug up high in the air,
"uhhh," said my neighbor Haas as he strode across the street towards my house.
Haas's quick stats:
Haas born and raised on a steady diet of fighting booze and Getting Chicks. His hobbies as a younger man included fighting, booze, and Getting Chicks. He liked going to bars as a young man, because there was a chance of fighting, booze, and getting chicks.
Haas got married a few years ago, and he's having a hard time adjusting to the adult world. Every so often he can be spotted on his rooftop with a hammer, a beer can, and Journey blasting on a portable radio, venting frustration about not being able to fight, or pick up chicks.
He also refers to his garage as the house of pain... and tries to invite people over to it all the time, saying things like , "tomorrow morning bra (that's long island for bro), head on down to the house of pain"
and back to the story,
Finally, he makes his way up to my front porch and stands on the steps with his hands on his hips, he's got his lawn mowing bandana on, and his ripped t-shirt that says no fat chicks flapping in the winter breeze.
"You seen my kids?" He asked
"uhh, Haasy, they're right there," I said pointing across the street to where his kids were running up and down the sidewalk,
Haas turned to the children quickly and screamed, "Aight Daddies, I'm gonna need you to go in the house," he calls his kids Daddy, which is very cool for those of you who don't realize.
"Ok," he said, turning to me, "so you saw my kids,"
"Yeah, of course I did,"
Haas pulled a joint out of his pocket, lit up and started puffing away. If Haas were a professional wrestler, this would be his signature move, first he would hit his opponent over the head with a Tire Iron, with a cool word etched into it like, "PAGAS," or something like that... and while he had the guy pinned on the mats, he'd light up and toke the shit out of his victory.
"well," he said right before doing a hold in on a lung full of smoke, "could you do me a favor?" he croaked still holding deep,
"Sure," I said
Haas breathed out all the way and looked me up and down real quick, " could you put some clothes on?"
" So that's how it's gonna be huh?" I said, obviously offended,
Haasy was cool about most things, but he could be a real dick sometimes,
"I'm sorry man," He said as he began to walk, letting his hand glide across the metal supports in front of my house, he seemed genuinely sorry for a second.
Haas froze for a moment, letting his hand slide up and down the metal post,
"watchya doin Haasy?" I asked, but he didn't say anything
he just started using his fingernail to etch something into the column, I couldn't see it at first, but Haas dropped his hand when he was done to grab a 40 OZ of Old E.
As he proceeded to chug down the oversized beverage in one gulp, I figured out what he had carved onto my house.
"ppPAGAS," I stuttered bewilderedly as Haasy dropped the 40 straight to the ground, ripped the support beam straight out of the ground and swung it hardcore, sending me flying onto my neighbors lawn,
"PEGAS BABY!!" he screamed, as he dropped the beam, and started pounding his chest...
Before that man even reached his front door, maybe ten young girls, with bon jovi hair, leather jackets, ripped jeans, and a whole lotta bubble gum had thrown themselves into his arms, as he made his way into his house....
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