Upon closing the bar one evening, the bartender (Autumn), the barback (Rick) and I were having a quiet drink together recounting the general fuckery of the evening. It was about 5 a.m. Sunday morning, and the clientele Saturday evening had made me worry that a little yellow bus had crashed in the neighborhood, and the riders had wandered into the bar. While we were chatting, I heard the gentle sound of water running.
Me - "Did you guys leave the water running in the sink?"
They both responded that they had not. I leaned up on the bar to verify this, as I was sure I heard water running. As my butt came back to rest on the stool, I glanced over to the door. The interior doors were still open, but the gate was down, to prevent the drunken fucktards still on the streets from stumbling into the bar. It was at this time, I noticed the water running under the gate, puddling just inside the door. "When did it start raining?" I asked no one in particular. It wasn't raining.
Walking to the door, I heard voices. Yes, gentle readers, a pair of asshats were peeing onto the security gates of the bar. Gravity and slope bringing said pee INSIDE the bar.
Me - "Hey guys, you're peeing into the bar."
Douche 1 - "I think somebody's in there." (rocket scientist)
Douche 2 - "Well, he better stay in there, if he knows what's good for him." (sigh)
I threw the gate up as the two of them were finishing their stream.
Me - "OK, which one of you hard asses wants to show me what's good for me?"
Douche 2 - "Uhhhh....homina-homina...errrr...mumbo, dogface, banana patch."
Douche 1 - (points to Douche 2)
Me - "Son, did you not understand when I yelled you were peeing into the bar?"
Douche 2 - (pickle still in hand) "Hey, the door should be able to keep water out, don't blame me." (sigh)
The annoyed punch in the chest sent him tumbling backwards across the sidewalk, where he came to rest on the curb. Douche 1 ran to his side to help him up, apologizing profusely for their unwise choice of urination stations.
Me - "Don't sweat it. Just take your friend home before he gets himself in trouble. Explain to him tomorrow that he wouldn't have a bruise on his chest if he just would have apologized, or even kept his mouth shut."
Douche 2 - (beanie weenie STILL hanging in the breeze) "Hey, fuck you man! You can't do that!! You don't know who my father is!!!"
Me - (sigh) "I'm assuming he's the limpdick that didn't teach you not to piss into someones place of business? Or that using a line like that makes you an uber-douche? If you tell me he's a lawyer, I'm gonna wanna know his address so I can go pinch a loaf in his ficus tree tomorrow."
Douche 2 - (thoroughly confused, being led away by Douche 1) "I'll be back. You watch your back!"
Me - (waving) "Bring pie. I like pie."
With the departure of God's Special People, I went back to the bar to finish my now warm beer. Rick had mopped the mess and re-secured the door behind me.
Rick - "Uh, bro?"
Me - "Yeah, man?"
Rick - "Is this yours?"
(turning, I focus on what would be the house trophy for the evening)
Me - "Is that a shoe?"
Rick - "Yeah. He came out of it when you popped him". (I had noticed the dipshit limping, but assumed it was from the roll)
I admit, I felt more than a smidgen of machismo at having knocked the turd, literally, out of his shoe. So much so, that after a dousing in the sanitizer, the shoe was hung on the back bar.
After pouring a smaller glass of beer to finish off the night, a gentle rapping came from the gate. It was Douche 1.
Douche 1 - "Umm. I think my friend lost his shoe"
Me - "You're kidding right?"
Douche 1 - "Well, we gotta go back to Westchester, and he'd like to get it back."
Me - "Did he finally put his cock away?"
Douche 1 - "Yeah. We're looking for his shoe, though."
Me - "And?"
Douche 1 - "Can I have it?"
Me - "Haven't seen it. Tell him to enjoy the train ride...and to say hi to his dad for me...and don't forget the pie when he comes back...I like pie."
The freshly minted uber-douche never did come back like he said he would...so I had to get my own pie...fucker.