Mr. Happy (Part 3)

So we drove off down the road, heading for Horseshoe Bay. Mr. Happy finally gave up trying to light his cigarette with a condom and dozed off in the back seat. Gibmonster, obviously affected by our brush with the truckload of rednecks, made me pull over at a Stop N Go for some Pearl Beer and chewing tobacco. While he was inside buying those goodies and a couple of very cheap baseball caps that said "The South's Gonna Do It Again" (do what again, get its ass kicked?) on the front, I sat in the car and watched a bunch of reasonably good looking women in halter tops use the pay phone, one after another. I've never understood why you see so many babes using pay phones at convenience stores. Once for my birthday, Mad Max went down to the 7/11 and rang me up. It was such a thrill. It would have been better if she'd had on a halter top. But she drew the line there. It was only the second time Mad Max had ever called me from a pay phone. The other time, she called on a pay phone from jail after she and Bo-dotty got busted for public intoxication in Galveston. It wasn't the same thing. Plus, for the hour or so it took me to get there to bail them out, I had to wonder what my woman was doing in Galveston with Bo-dotty. Turns out Bo-dotty was playing a gig at the San Luis and needed a ride, so Mad Max gave him a lift. They got all liquored up on the comp drinks, at which point Bo-dotty called Mad Max up on stage and they sang "Muskrat Love" nine straight times. The hotel manager couldn't decide whether to call an ambulance or the police, so he called them both. The police got there first. By the time I got to the jailhouse, Mad Max had sobered up enough to be seriously pissed. Bo-dotty had made friends with some other guys in the drunk tank and refused to leave unless they could come with him. As Mad Max and I walked out of the holding area, we could hear Bo-dotty and his merry band of criminals singing "Love Will Keep Us Together."

After Gibmonster got us loaded up with bad beer and a pouch of chewing tobacco, we were on our way again. We had planned to stop by Dry Creek on the way out of town, but we were too drunk to find our way up the mountain. So we just headed for Horseshoe Bay. Dry Creek is an old bar up on a hill run by a very old and unpleasant woman named Sarah. She was always really mean to us, but then again so were most young and nice women. We like it there because one night we saw a pretty little co-ed reverse snort a beer. We were so impressed, we asked her to go back to Houston with us. Fortunately, none of us were home when her parents came to fetch her. For months we tried without success to find another girl who could duplicate that co-ed's beer trick. Gibmonster took to going up to pretty young women and saying "if you can expel a mouthful of beer through your nose, I'll leave you alone." Lots of girls tried. Lots of girls failed. One girl broke a beer bottle over Gibmonster's head and called him a pervert. To which Mr. Happy said "that girl's right, but why did she have to waste a beer to prove it?" Mr. Happy loved beer. And he hated to see it get abused.

About half way to Horseshoe Bay, Mr. Happy woke up with a bad case of cotton mouth. He saw an Icee cup on the console between me and Gibmonster. Before we could stop him, he grabbed it and took a big swig. "God damn," he said, "that Icee tastes like shit. What kind is it?" "Red Man flavor" said Gibmonster. "Well it sucks" replied Mr. Happy as he closed his eyes and nodded off again. Gibmonster retrieved our spit cup and we sped towards the Drunkard's Retreat and all of the excitment which no doubt awaited us there.