I’m behind the bar, tendin, like I do, it’s winding down, one more band, a buddy of mine, is at the end of the bar, with his head hangin down. I scoot over, what’s up, my man? You all right? He says, I might lose a ball. What’s that? I say. Yeah, I racked myself. Shit, are you serious? Hell yeah, I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about that. It happened two weeks ago, and I’m still in pain. Well, I say, what happened? I was hangin up a plant, on my patio, I was standin up, on this metal railing. I slipped, and racked myself, full body weight. Oh shit, dude. Did you go to the hospital? Oh yeah, he says. Oh yeah. I find out Monday if I lose a ball. Dude, that’s terrible. Are you gonna still be able to have kids? Oh yeah, I still got the right nut, baby! Then I say, so…did you get the plant up? What? He says. The plant. Did you get it hung up?
Nah. It’s still sittin there. On my patio.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.