Street Gang Appreciation Night, Part One

Well shiver me timbers if Tay and the boys didn’t sail into Manhattan’s Lower East Side on a fifty-foot wave of whisky and beat that shit like Katrina. The list of fools getting laid to waste read like a damn Taytyme greatest hits. Tay, Toots, Snuggs, Larry J., P-Jiddy and Sexy Vixen Oh-69, Bruva Bear and The Doog - why even the lovely former Mrs. Tay, Ritchie Stinkfinger, and a Young Professional had their shit in full effect. God Almighty himself was walking through the club striking bitches blind with booze, and it was good. Thanks be to the Maker for disabling a certain lady’s sense of smell, too, cause Tay sat his ass down in a hobo’s puke and had to ride the subway to Brooklyn. Thanks to the kind New York lady who said, “Here, Mister,” and offered a SINGLE McDONALDS NAPKIN to rectify the situation. Look, there are some problems that ain’t gonna be fixed until you wash ’em in toilet water and some old-ass 86 proof Jack.

At some point, the new day’s sun braved a peek down at the damage wrought, and Tay hid his ass away for fear of retribution. Round two started with a couple of Aleve and an extra-strength Tylenol washed down with a double Jack left on the table a few hours before. Next thing you know, Tay’s barefoot in the street, hanging up on people and wearing a lady’s pajama bottoms, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer, trying to flag down the Poon Tang Cruiser for a less-than-looked-forward-to ride back home.

I tell you what, if only the Falls City Angels had been there to stab some sucker, you could have called it an awards show. Then again, Keith Lowen did get set on fire.