My dad always told me it's not the guys you know who are bad asses you have to watch out for. It's the guys who think their bad asses....cause there out to prove it. The guys who know they are bad asses got nothing to prove.
One time in a bar (and I was considerably older and larger by then) some big 300 lb farm boy came in and started slaping around a buddy of mine who was passed out at the bar. I calmly walked in his direction and palmed a ball of the pool table, walked up behind the big plough boy and taped him on the shoulder. When he turned around I let him have it with the pool ball with everything I had. Knocked his ass out cold. Everybody fell about the place laughing, I helped my buddy up and dragged him out to the car and got the hell out of there before the big SOB woke up and killed me!
FUCK, this made me remember yet another incident.
Same bar as in my other posting.
This other buddy of mine and me were in one night and the place was empty, except for the bartender and some young kid.
My buddy and I started playing pool and the kid wanted to get into the game.
He wanted to play for money, so I backed out (because I don't play for money) and let my buddy play him.
The kid lost, doubled up, lost again, doubled up again, and lost again; so he quits and my buddy and I go back to shooting against my buddy.
Here's where the story gets interesting.
The kid is sitting on the juke box, watching us shoot pool, and this big ole boy walks in. He's wearing a Stetson, a rodeo belt buckle, and looks the part of a cowboy; except he's ballooned up to what looks like 350 lbs or more.
He sits down, orders a beer, and when he starts talking to the bartender, I hear he's from Texas and is on his back from Cali.
No big deal, until the big guy decides to be an idiot.
He walks over to the jukebox and tells the kid.
Get off the box, son.
Now I've got to give the kid credit; because he had some balls.
He tells big man, I'm not your son.
Big man goes, Then get off the box, boy.
Kid replies, I'm not your boy either.
My buddy joins in and tells big man; why doesn't he just ask the kid to move, politely
Big man looks at my buddy, looks back at the kid, and says "Excuse me. Could you not sit on the jukebox; because I want to see what there is to play".
Kid gets off the jukebox, the big guy puts in some quarters, picks some music, and then sits down back at the bar.
Next thing I know, the big guy comments "From where I come from, we don't let no niggers in the bar".
I go OH-SHIT; because that comment kind has a bad habit of pissing my buddy off.
My buddy turns and asks the big guy if he wanted to try to put "this nigger" out of the bar.
My buddy is about 6'1",narrow in build, a couple of years older then me, Black, and an ex-Golden Gloves boxer. He's also got these fucking arms that are about 1 foot longer then normal.
Big guy goes, "That's pretty big talk coming from someone that's carrying a knife".
Did I forget to mention that my buddy had a habit of wearing a machete on his belt??
So my buddy grabs his belt, takes it off, throws it behind the bar, and tells the fool that he's not wearing it now.
Now, I'm thinking this is going to get ugly; because if my buddy doesn't whip this guys ass, I'm going to have to wail on him with a pool cue, because this guy is big and I'm not stupid.
But; to my surprise, the big guy looks at my buddy and says "Well, wait a minute and let's just talk about this.
My buddy goes over, they talk, and the rest of the evening goes without any problems.
When we were leaving and getting ready to ride our bikes to his place, I asked him what he had planned to do with the big man. He said he wasn't sure but he knew I had his back.
I laughed, shook my head, called him a mother fucker, we fired up our bikes, and went to his place for more beers and dominoes.
