On the Nature of Pork Beasts

After a half-hearted hour of essay writing in the downtown coffee shop, I moseyed across the street to the sports bar, looking at catch the UGA-Kentucky game. Unfortunately, someone at DirectTV has their priorities backasswards and for some unexplainable reason that game wasn't available in the California area. But I had already ordered some chicken wings and a beer, so I settled for watching UNC beat the tar out of Wake Forest.

About halfway through my meal, I hear the door open and the shuffling of feet. This in itself is not odd, but what puzzled me is that even though I was sitting at the bar very near the entrance, none of the afternoon sunlight struck through into the restaurant. I turned my head to the side. I started. I did a double-take. There were two enormous mountains of flesh oozing through the portal. Each of these creatures literally encompassed the entire door, filling it out to from top to bottom, from side to side. One about 6'5", the other a few inches shorter. Each one weighed in at 300 easy, and were probably closer to 400. Let me state now that I am in no way exaggerating anything in this story, not even for comedy's sake - all the laughter/horror is built in to this one.

They rumbled up to the bar, and began speaking. This would prove to be the first of many times over the next 15 minutes that my brain refused to believe what my senses were telling it. They sounded exactly the same, and spoke with exactly the same tone and inflection as the fat henchman from The Venture Bros. And what did they talk about? Getting in trouble because "Mom said we could only be out for two hours and it's been almost three!!". How they shouldn't have spent so much time in "the gay Best Buy". That this place (very typical sports bar, with pool tables, Foosball, stupid beer signs, etc) "was off the chain." They actually asked me if the place gets off the chain. I responded "I don't know if this place gets off the chain." It was all I could to not run away with the remainder of my french fries and camouflage myself as a salad for protection.

What did they order? Two hundred wings? A platter of ranch dressing? Sixteen cheeseburgers with extra cheese and cheese instead of buns? No. One Shirley Temple. I shit you not. This enormous ham beast, with stupid emo black hair over his eyes, stupid emo Weezer glasses, orders a fucking Shirley Temple. I almost broke my Budweiser over his fat head but didn't for fear of his mistaking my arm for a Slim Jim.

A quick aside - I've got nothing against nerds. I like them. I'm a nerd in many ways. I can appreciate nerd humor, up to a point. These two things were uber-nerds, however. They had (d)evolved to the point of barely functioning human beings. I can imagine they spend 20 hours out of the day playing Playstation games, slobbering over Japanese anime, and stuffing Cheetos into each other's mouths. Just like with anything in life, moderation is key. Except booze. These organisms threw away their humanity and became Pork Beasts. Ahem, back to the story.

Why were they here? A sports bar is one of the last places you'd find 17-year old nerdsacks. They were here asking about tickets to distribute for their band. This shit just keeps getting better. Apparently the are entered into a battle of the bands, which I WILL NOT MISS FOR ANYTHING. What the hell would they play? Can they even get on the stage? I mean, the other creature, the 6'5" hunch-backed drooling mountain of meat, looked like he had an extra chromosome or two floating around. Would they get on stage and just make various farting noises by flapping their now-vestigial appendages around? My money is on them putting together some sort of keyboard/computer synthesizer deal and playing video game theme songs. Their band name, if I heard correctly (at this point I was pretty much in shock) is Forever King Kong. Their combined creative force is only matched by their combined masses.

After a few minutes of complaining, saying how sweet the bar is, and deciding which one of them should talk to the waitress ("No dude she was hitting on you, you talk to her." "Hey you're the one that wanted to talk to her, you go do it.") , the manager in charge of the battle of the bands appears and they literally waddle over to a table and proceed to take up more physical space than my car. I continued watching the basketball game, stunned mostly by the fact that these things actually existed. They left before I did - didn't want to make Mom any more upset - and on the way out the emo/pork/creature took a parting swig of his Shirley Temple, ambled out the door, stopped, returned to the bar, and sucked down the rest of his pink drink. "Had to get the last of it" he wheezed at me, and rolled out onto the street.

I must attend the battle of the bands. I must know more about these two former humans. It's like I've discovered a living dinosaur and instead of having plates on its back or spines on its tail, it is filled with Crisco.

Also, UGA rallied from 13 down at the half to defeat #25 Kentucky 78-69 in overtime. I AM THE KING OF THE LAND, BRING ME YOUR FINEST MEATS AND CHEESES.