Man Punch Man



Ed and Mike show up at my sister Cary's apartment where I'm 
staying while floating around homeless between moves. They've got 
a milk gallon size bottle of whiskey and a package of beef jerky 
(Jack Link's Sweet & Hot) to watch the Iggy Pop special on cable 
teevee.  Hira shows up a couple minutes later just wandering by. 

We drink and Mike hits a stopping point and goes home.  We drink and
Hira hits a stopping point.  Ed throws back her drink and gets quiet
and looks like he's going to pass out.  Oh boy, we all know that means
Tequila Ed is about to make an appearance.  Then it starts. 

"It's man punch man," Ed says stressing each word like he's discovered
the secret of life. "Man punch man.  Man. Punch. Man.  Man. Punch. Man. 
Well, I punch man."  Then he punches me in the belly and passes out. 

Ed of course, cannot and will not, ever in his life pass out.  He just
slumps over for a minute or two holding a drink at an impossible angle
never quit spilling it.  Then comes back for more. 

"Dave, have you seen my pussy?  Have I ever shown you my pussy?"  Hira,
not knowing that that was a joking reference to another friend of ours,
gets disgusted and leaves.  Ed continues, "Fuck you and your whole operation. 
It stinks.  Your whole operation.  It stinks.  Saturday at work?! Why?! 
Why?!" Then he knocks over a bowl of melted ice and gets up to leave. 

I try to get him to stay and sleep it off on the couch, but no luck. 
He puts his jacket on upside down, and I offer him the couch again.  I
try to carry his bike downstairs, but he won't let me.  He picks it
up, slings it over his back, and trips on the first stair.  He falls
downwards out of control, but he doesn't actually fall over until he
hits the bottom of the stairs.  He lies in the ivy for a bit, and gets
up.

The bike belongs to Mike and is too big for Ed.  He can't reach the
peddle at its lowest point, but he tries to ride away.  He weaves
taking up the whole sidewalk, barely misses a lightpost, barely misses
the bus stop, and then falls over.  He lies still for a bit and gets
up.  He makes a turn onto Capitol and disappears from sight.  I wait 
and listen for the crash.  Ed doesn't disappoint and I hear a crash 
off in the distance.  It's after 1 am and I have to work in the morning.
I go inside to try to sleep and the noise starts. 

I've been hearing a weird noise at odd hours the whole time I've been
at my sister Cary's place while she's in Detroit.  I thought it was
someone sawing through something and I never paid much attention. 
Yesterday I figured out it's the fat chick upstairs having sex.  She
just makes weird noises.  Last night she humped all night long. 

It started around 1:30 and went until around 5:30.  I was pretty 
impressed that that they humped all night and those crazy weird 
noises were making me laugh. 

Cary called up this morning and I told her about it.  She said the fat
chick's room is above her roommate's room in the back of the
apartment.  I thought it was coming from above me.  Man, that fat
chick is loud.  I made up songs about the mating call of the fat chick in
the shower this morning. 

Today I go home for lunch and there's a message on the machine, "Hey
Dave, this is Ed.  I blacked out. I have roadrash on my head.  Did I
leave my glasses and Mike's bike at your house?  Call me." 

There's still half a bottle of booze and a couple good sized pieces of
jerky at the house.  Tonight's going to be a good night.

---------------

1999. I since moved into to my sister's place when she moved out, and
got to know the upstair's neighbor (Hi Charlene!).  She sent me the 
following email: 
  "By the way, the sex was loud because I was boning 
   down with a big black guy - you can't blame a girl 
   for gettin some!! signed, the fat chick upstairs."  

She's always beats me when we're swapping growing up white trash 
stories, too.

This was written before Ed did develop the ability to pass out.
It's amazing that he did.  Even now, it's pretty rare and he usually 
snaps out of it within minutes.  I'll try to get him to write up the 
story of passing out at the Press Club and they panicked and called 911.  
Ed came to in a hospital with an IV in him.  Disoriented and pissed off.
Wouldn't you be if you went from bar to hospital without knowing it?