FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part IV

The saga of my one and only bar fight continues. If you need to catch up a go read these.

She started to drunkenly charge through the bar immediately. I tried to stop laughing, because at that point I was terrified, but on her way over to my table she crashed into the corner of a chair and fell over. She was only down for a second or two when her giant hair shot back up and she resumed stumbling my direction. Amazingly, she was still clinging to her beer bottle.

Sitting at our table was a group of our male friends. To put it mildly, these guys are giant pussies. They are white collar dudes who avoid confrontation at all costs so not to get their polo shirts dirty. I had given them a general overview of the Fucktard Sister situation earlier in the night, but aside from cracking a few jokes they had long since forgot about it and were not at all concerned for my safety. I knew they would be no help whatsoever.

Realizing I only had seconds to live, I did a quick scan of the bar trying to locate a bouncer, an exit sign, Scotty waiting to beam me up, a bookshelf that if you pull the right book it leads to a secret passageway, anything that might help get me out of this. Nadda. Crap! Here she comes………..

“Whase so fucken funny? Youwannagobitch?”

“Um, no. I do not want to go. Are you okay? That looked like a nasty spill you just took back there.”

That's when the Fucktard Sister leaned across the table and swung at my head with her beer bottle. I was a little tipsy by this point, so my reaction time was not that great. I did manage to get out of the way enough that she didn’t knock me unconscious, but the beer bottle/fist combo still connected with my face just under my left eye.

Ow. The only thing I remember going through my head at that moment was RUN. Right as I took off I saw out of the corner of my eye that Valentina reappeared from behind the Fucktard Sister and was trying to restrain her from leaping over the table to kill me. I bolted.

I started running through the bar trying to find a bouncer. The band was pretty popular by then and usually at least once a show some stupid drunk girl would try to get on stage to grope one of the guys. Consequently, they often had security hanging around the dance floor area. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to see if the Fucktard Sister was in hot pursuit or if the table of people I was with managed to restrain her. No such luck. As I looked behind me I could see that she had managed to free herself from Valentina (no surprise there, Valentina weights about 100 pounds) and with beer bottle and giant hair a-blazin’ was coming to get me.

You must remember a few things here. First of all, the band had been playing all night long so the band guys didn’t fully get what was going down. Secondly, the bar was filled with people I know. I didn’t tell them all exactly what was developing throughout the course of the evening because some of the people there were acquaintances and I really didn't want them to know I was in danger of getting into a bar fight. People from work, for example. I had a professional job and I didn’t think a drunk-bitch bar fight would really do wonders for advancing my career or reputation.

Anyway, back to the running. I was grateful Valentina managed to give me a bit of head start because clearly the Fucktard Sister was in it to win it. Thank god I was familiar with that bar because I knew exactly how to weasel my way through the crowd, tables and dance floor to try to get to security. There was a DJ booth right beside the stage, so I headed straight for it. Yeah, I know a DJ wasn’t really what I needed at that moment, but I figured bar staff of any form would improve my situation. I mean, they worked there, so they were sort of obligated to help me, no? As it turns out, not really, no.

I made it to the DJ booth! I started banging on the door - “Hey! Let me in! Some crazed fugly drunk and hairy chick is trying to kill me!! Let me in goddamn it! GAH! She’s coming!! For FUCK sakes open the fucking door!!!!”

Dude just starred through the glass at me pointing to his ear, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, I know you can’t hear me, there is a FUCKING ROCK BAND playing three feet away. Isn’t my crying and flailing enough for you to think you should open the door anyway?” FUCKER! Wait a minute…there is a rock band playing three feet away! Hubby!!

Without the aid of the 20 year-old DJ (fucker), no bouncer in sight and nowhere else to go, I jumped on stage and ran behind the drum kit. Mid song.

The band was on stage kicking ass when I ran up behind the Hubby all out of breath. He kept drumming, but looked at me and mouthed, “What’s up?”

I pointed at the front of the stage. I’m not exactly sure what went down while I was running for my life, but all I saw at that moment was Fucktard Sister 1 (the one that smacked me in the face) struggling through the crowd trying to get up to the left of the stage, and Fucktard Sister 2 (I had sort of forgot about her) struggling through the crowd to get up to the right of the stage. The band was still playing.

That’s when I saw Keely.