Look guys, we’re sorry. We really didn’t mean to do this interview, we were just kinda buzzed and made a snarky off-the-cuff remark. It snowballed into an interaction that simply would not end, no matter how much we tried to excuse ourselves while sheepishly side-stepping toward the door.
It wound up eating so much of our time we had to publish it just to keep our workflow going. So anyway here is our interview with the guy who brought his own pool cue. We think his name was Gary.
Hard Times: Hey, man. Does anyone have next game yet?
A Guy, Let’s Call Him Gary: Whatever.
HT: Woah, brought your own cue huh? So, how’s the divorce going?
GARY: Fucking could not be worse my brother, let me tell you about it!
HT: Uh… okay… it was just a joke dude.
Gary: Let me give you some advice, kid. Never get married! Those harpies will suck out your soul clean through your dick until you’re just left soulless and dickless and dead.
HT: Jesus Christ, that’s bleak.
Gary: Damn straight! She took the house, the good one of the kids, all my commemorative NASCAR dinner plates—everything except my goddamn pool cue.
HT: Well, it seems like you have a lot on your mind, so…
Gary: And you know what the worst part is? The alimony cats!
HT: What in the hell are alimony cats?
Gary: Anytime I send that whore tease bitch of an ex of mine an alimony check because the good kid “needs new school clothes” I also send her a dead cat in a box. Just as a reminder… you get me?
HT: You know what? Let me just grab that quarter back quick and…
Gary: Say, you don’t happen to have a line on any living cats that nobodys’ using at the moment, do you?
HT: You know what, I’m just gonna leave that quarter where it is. You can just have that.
Gary: Hey! Where are you going? Let me follow your SnapChat real quick!
It was at this point we swifty left the building and realized that we are likely just never gonna be able to go back to that bar, at least not until that guy ends up in a new, deeply age-inappropriate relationship, and forgets all about us.