hack

A Short Story About Morrissey

Well, there was the lettuce story, and the Michael Stipe story and the Fridge story, now there is:

THE PUB THAT WASN"T GOOD ENOUGH FOR MORRISSEY

So yesterday was Thanksgiving in the bonny frozen northlands so my best gal (MBG) and myself went out so she could get herself a traditional turkey dindin (dindon dindin?). Now I don't eat turkey so my dinner was Guiness, and about three pints in who mopes into the pub with a pair of tattooed lads in tow but the mighty Moz hisself, no other.

Here, MBG says to me, don't you want to talk to him?
And I say, mmmm, no.
And she says, but he was a childhood hero, won't you kick yourself if you don't speak to him or buy him a drink?
And I say, mmmm, I dunno. Will I?
And she says, brother, if I know you, and I know you, you will.
So I say, okay give me twenty bucks.
And she does.
And I go to take a leak before visiting Morrissey, but when I get back, the mozzy fucker's gone and left!
MBG says, dude, you missed him.
And I say yeah, and out the window Morrissey and his friendss were sneering up at the pub that wouldn't do.

So, that's the story.