Thursday, July 19, 2012

mmmmmmMMMMM , BINGO.....

So, every damn Wednesday for 20 years my wife/goat has runt off to the local VFDubya to play Bingo.  I never minded as that meant not only more beer for me, but I got to watch my Braves baseball in peace,  but tonight , for SOME DAMN REASON, she insisted that I go with her. None of my usual bitchin and moanin worked so come 7pm, off to Bingo I went...

 Well, I walk in the door and every damn blue harr and pissed off old bastard in 3 counties was a sittin there, piles of papers before em, and each with heavily adorned markers and paint pens and good luck charms. It looked like Liberace was playin Branson again for fucks sake..

 Anyway, I fork out my 30 bucks and get my 5287 different game sheets and find me a seat. I'm taking in the sheer terrible awfulness of it all: the bickering of spouses, the soft glow of twelve thousand florescent blulbs, the sweet smell of ben gay and prunes.... and just as I was 'bout to tear ass out of that place, the beer man walked by.
 After my 4th bud lite in the first fifteen minutes it all started to become bearable and finally, the REAL mayhem ensued .  A man I had only seen at church (when my in laws were in town) wandrered up to a table with a big screen behind and fired up the bingo machine and in a loud clear voice older than the land of which I was raised said "B-7"  ,  well, you can just imagine the excitement!! 243 old ladies marking dots on the no less than 15 sheets a piece all at once sounded like the worlds largest typewriter (well if the keys was covered in cotton)   all of a sudden a voice " Dammit!  mark yer damn squarrs!!"  i realized it was the familiar screech of the wife/goat and i began my journey into the heart of bingo darkness.

 After about 6 games in a row ,and my 1st twelve pack, i was getting the hang of it,  they call numbers, I mark em, somebody else yells BINGO DAMMIT!  and everybody else yells FUCK!!!!  It was actually kinda fun,  but then,just when I thought I had seen it all, there was "The Incident".

 We was playin some special round with these special cards that pays $100 every week and you can only buy one card. it only cost a dollar and is kinda like the door prize. the first person to mark ANY number wins,  so,  I'm a sittin therr listenin and a lookin when all of a sudden "Bingo!!!" followed of course by "Fuck!!"  but before the fuck had faded "BINGO!!!" sounded from across the room. Two bingos at the same time? Impossible they said!

 Well the two old tobacca chewin floozies I see down at the roadhouse sometimes (and who already hate each other) come a walkin to the podium.  Not bein prepared for all this the ringmaster appeared bamboozled.  He took both cards,  agreed both were winners and then dissappeared behind a curtain to his left. (it got me to thankin bout the wizard of oz to be honest)  no less than 4 beers later he returned and did not look amused.
 " One of these cards is from last week, and you lady's know that you caint be brangin back cards from last week, so who's is it?"   He damn well knew who's it was, but he was hopin for an admittance of guilt. But I seen these too old broads fight over a sailor before and I knew that shit weren't a happenin.

 "that old nasty whore therrr did it parson, she ain't worth a shit that white trash bitch" said Wilma, a 50+ year old blonde with hair like a broom and the build of a lineman.

 "oh hell no, fuck you Wilma Sue, I bought my card today you can ask Emma Jean at the desk tharr" said Melanie Tucker who smelled like gin and weighed about 40 pounds soakin wet, she had an overbite like a ice pick and a truck bigger than my house.

 Well, just when the parson was about to intervene, wouldn't ya know it but Wilma launched in the airr like Bruce Lee and kicked ole fork face right in the jaw!!!  You would think i would be tensed up, but hell no i was a laughin so hard I damn near pissed my drawers and missed the action!!!

 It never really developd from tharr, they got em separated, threw ole Wilma out on her ass (she was the cheater it appeared) handed Mel her hunnerd doller bill and we went back to Bingoin....

 last card, last game of the night, blackout.....   I'm tense,  I ain't never handled a pen like that in my life, and the numbers just seem to keep comin!  I'm a markin em so fast that I'm sure I will have victory. Four numbers left, then three, then TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!............. then I stalled, plateaued, was so sure i was gonna cough up the victory like the Buffalo Bills of bingo when i heard 0-63,  only one more left!!!!!

O-72 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 well i holler BINGO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  and the place went silent.  apparently I had made a VFW faux pas....   i sauntered my big hillbilly ass up to the parson tharr and he glared at me like I pissed on his flowers and humped his old lady/goat.   But after a cursory inspection and a verification by his bingo machine I was declared the winner..........of a $100 gift certificate to a nail salon...

 Well you can imagine my dismay,  I ain't goin to no nail salon, and my wife/goat is at the still more than me, and between that and pickin beans her nails look like whale teeth glued to her hand.   even tho it was more useless than using a pitchfork for a spittoon I took it with pride, and framed it on my wall, a symbol

of victory




see ya at the fishin hole!!

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