Brad Walsh

Hotel Bar in the Middle of Pennsylvania

The guy who talked to us over alcohol was a 37 year old Republican war veteran who loved Slayer and my striped sweater. He said that if he ever touched Britney Spears his hands would catch fire. He told us the story of when he won $240 in a bar gambling machine in Pittsburgh, and the bartender Lisa recalled with great joy the time she called someone a fat fuck as she was being thrown out. He would like to write, like us, but doesn’t think he’d be able to get his point across in many words. This was the greatest bar conversation we’ve had all year. Many people in the next room danced to “Mony Mony” by Billy Idol and pumped their fists in the air on the Yeahs. They were old women in Sunday dresses and husbands who cleaned their glasses after each song. Can I do this every Friday?

HIM: It wasn’t mandatory… but it’s sucking up every hour I got. I had to shake fucking retard boy out of his bed and fucking get me over the bridge.
HER: Hey, quit saying that word! You know a better adjective. I know your vocabulary is better than that.
HIM: It would appear not right now.