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I Cock-Blocked The Hawk Twice In One Night!
I have learned the Army is more akin to family though. I sincerely mean that too. There are Leaders whom are raging pricks and served as steadfast fatherly figures. I have countless brothers whom have followed me to hell-and-back, and would find it comical if we replaced the tennis balls on grandma's walker with racquet balls. There is even crazy uncle Jeff, the family pervert who had a crush on the Olson twins, before they were famous.
The setting for this story is post-Iraq. The rookies had just completed their first deployment, and the "old-heads" completed their second deployment. The married Soldiers returned home with a one-penis reservation to park the beef bus in tuna town, while the rest of the Soldiers hunted or paid for it. I have personally never understood the need to pay for sex. My father imparted sage advice after basic, regarding sex, and it is never failed me. "There are only two factors regarding sex. There are standards and statistics, and in order for one to go up, the other must go down."
We sincerely love each others like brothers, but months of living in close proximity with "brothers," can drive you insane. There were numerous times I envisioned drowning Hawk in shallow puddle of my own piss. I am equally certain my own Soldiers would draw and quarter me if given the opportunity. My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) does not bother me, but the slobs I roomed with needed a reprieve from my "perfection". There was certainly going to be a post-deployment celebration, but we all needed that first week to reestablish our own personal routines.
There was considerable deliberation as to "who" would host the party, but there were no volunteers. Not this time. I was gracious enough to host the previous post-deployment blowout, and I have zero desire to steam vacuum piss out of the carpet, in my walk-in closet. There is not a house on earth that is built to withstand the chaos of forty drunken alpha-males, and the infinite "hold my beer" moments that occurred.
Wife: (Puzzled) Why in the fuck are we missing two ceiling fan blades?
OP: Sword fight!
Wife: (Less puzzled, and more angry) WHAT?
OP: SWORD FIGHT!
Wife: I fucking heard you asshole, but why was their a sword fight?
OP: There was an argument about "who" was a better sword fighter, and we needed swords.
Wife: So you guys used ceiling fan blades, as swords, to fight each other?
Wife: (Laughing) Why ceiling fan blades?
OP: We didn't have enough broom sticks, and fan blades are less-lethal. Just be thankful we don't own real swards.
Needless-to-say, I was not hosting. I am now qualified to re-patch drywall, but there was no fucking way I was going to volunteer my house ever again. We eventually decided to not jeopardize anyone's marriage and wreck havoc at a neutral location. One of the Squad Leaders recommended a large dance club in a very large college town; a road trip was in order. Forty, mostly single, alpha-males embarked on an epic journey to open the meat-curtains and diddle the squish mitten in a liberal college town. It was like mixing bleach with ammonia, it was a great idea, and I was certain nothing would go wrong.
Fast-Forward to Fuckery!
We had successfully conquered space and time, and magically all arrived in the parking lot to this large dance club. We had all rallied in the parking lot prior to entering the establishment. It was clearly evident that all of the non-drivers consumed "road sodas" during the trip. Nobody was shit-faced yet, but it was clearly our final destination. We needed to accomplish two very important task before entering the club which were to take accountability, and conduct a brief. Multiple locations were recommended, but John sold this club to the single Soldiers when he guaranteed, "Everyone's dicks will get wet." John frequented the establishment in his college days, and therefore was the most equipped to provide the brief.
John: Remember the rules guys. We are here to have a good time. We are not here to start fights, but we will fucking finish them.
Crowd goes wild!
John: Furthermore, if some asshole in there wants to fight one of us, he will fucking fight all of us and the wives will take care a the bitches!
Male crowd goes wild!
Wives: (Collectively) The fuck we will.
John: Lastly, and this is the most important rule, everyone gets an ORANGE BAND. Remember that at the door. ORANGE BAND ONLY!
The fuckheads were ready to party! Everyone started our short journey to the door where beer and chaos would be our salvation. However, what the fuck was that bracelet brief about? John was very mysterious when discussing this particular club. John side-stepped any and all questions about it, and simply stated, "It's a surprise, but I promise you will like it." My brain may carry water buckets for a living, but I am still fairly intuitive. All the other lemmings were getting ready to jump of the cliff, but I wanted to know why the bracelet color was so fucking important. I was still going to jump off the cliff, but I had questions.
I was one of the first humanoids to arrive at the door. It was clearly obvious this was a college town bar, and not a military town bar. The bouncer looked like a young Danny DeVito. He probably had problems leading turds to the toilet due to his small stature, and there was no way he was capable of tossing any of us out without the assistance of at least twenty more Oompa Loompa cohorts. All six feet and eight inches of John was in front of me, and I found it comical when Danny Devito asked John's cock to see identification. I was next.
I give him my military ID and watch him fumble with it in order to find my date of birth.
Danny: Band color?
OP: What are my options?
Danny: Yellow, Pink, and Orange.
OP: Interesting, so what the fuck does it all mean?
Danny: (Laughing). You don't know where you at do you kid?
OP: Nope. I was told to go with Orange, but I have no fucking clue what it means.
Danny: (Still Laughing) You're going to have a blast inside. Anyways, the Orange band is for straight people. The Yellow band is for bisexuals, and Pink means your a flaming homo!
OP: Orange band it is!
Dear Reader, John saw fit to recommend a gay bar, to forty freedom fighters, but didn't see fit to inform any of us. Super! I, personally, treat religion, politics, and sexuality like a penis; don't show it to my children, and never shove it down my throat. I simply don't give a flying fuck. However, I don't know about the rest of my battle companions. I was going to find out after I walked through the doors though.
Dear Reader, this club was fucking awesome. The bar was fucking huge. The dance floor was fucking huge. The stage full of drag queens was fucking huge. I instantly make my way to the bar and find a suitable vantage point on the door. I want to see the everyone's face when they entered the club. Image going to the a titty bar. The entire facade of the building screams bouncing titties. "Diamond Dave's Boom-Boom-Room." The main attraction is Princess Ping Pong, and you win a free shirt if you beat her in beer pong. That allure? She kegel-flings the balls from her baby-cave with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker. Now imagine opening the doors to "Diamond Dave's Boom-Boom-Room" to find a Catholic mass. What the fuck? Yeah, that was the look on everyone's face when they walked in.
Jess: OP NICKNAME. Did you fucking see that?
Jess: That drag queen there?
This drag queen was sculpted like a Greek God. It was fucking Hercules, in a beautiful sequin dress, because 30-inch biceps just won't fit in fucking shirts.
Jess: My god. You don't fuck her; she fucks you! (Did we just enter a parallel universe scream) Where the fuck are we? What the fuck is this place?
It now appears everyone is aware, and there are some questions that beg a fucking answer, specifically, "Where the fuck are we?" We are forty physically fit alpha-males whom just returned from knuckle-dragging terrorists, but we were like a school of pussy-ass fucking fish. Everyone was huddled around the bar as if the other patrons were fucking sharks or gay dolphins. We had strength in numbers. It was time for another fucking brief.
John: (On top of bar stool) Yes. I brought you to a gay bar! I promise; you have nothing to worry about so long has you have orange bracelets. Please stop being pussies, and go find some pussies.
The men were staring at John like he was Moses. Moses parted the Red Sea. John didn't part anything. He made us walk the plank into a gay bar, and we were now swimming in the deep end. John didn't part shit. Oddly, nobody was upset they were at a gay bar, they were upset they were unknowingly lured into a gay bag without proper notification. Luckily, and I fucking kid you not, John was saved. We were swarmed by a large school of not-gay women, and the group of pissed off gunslingers suddenly realized this club had more chicks than Tyson Foods. Men were the sexual minority and the hunt was on.
Hawk: (Very serious) OP NICKNAME. So, do you have any tips for picking up women?
OP: Yes. Lift with your legs and not your back.
Hawk: (Not pleased) I was being serious.
OP: I know. I have a technique that has never failed me. Wanna hear it?
Hawk: (Excited) Yes!
OP: I'd find the most gorgeous lady in here and ask, "Does this smell like chloroform?"
OP: Or duct tape! It turns, "No, No, NO!" to "Um, Um, Umm."
Hawk: You're a fucking asshole.
OP: Just talk to them Hawk. Be honest, and just talk to people. You will be fine brother.
Hawk: Okay. You're still a fucking asshole though.
The married guys and myself planted ourselves at the bar. We conversed with another, and the very diverse crowd of patrons around us. We found ourselves liking the establishment more and more. It was truly a great bar. "Where the fuck is this going OP?" I understand! We are here to talk more about Hawk, so how about we do that now? Great idea!
The bar is very large and "U" shaped. I spot Hawk on the opposite side of the bar, and he is talking to a beautiful women. Far too beautiful for Hawk, and I doubt they are bonding over their mutual love of finger painting, or Spaghetti O's. Maybe she was just ordering a drink and noticed the bar had lowered their standards and began service alcohol to retards? I turn my attention to the conversation I was having with John and others and again notice Hawk is still talking to this princess. Fuck casual glancing, it was now time to just plain fucking stare at them.
Twenty Minutes Later
The princess grabs Hawks face and plants a giant kiss on his cheek, and that fucking hand is wearing a fucking PINK BRACELET. My fucking god! I get up to make my way around the bar, and then Hawk grabs her face and plants a disgusting kiss that was more appropriate for a hotel room that charges by the hour. Also, Hawk was wearing a fucking YELLOW BRACELET. My happy-go-lucky retard was about to walk his ass into a dick if I didn't save him.
OP: Hawk. Let's go take a piss.
Hawk: I'm good.
OP: Get the fuck up. You have to piss. NOW!
I fucking drag Hawk off his perch, and towards the bathroom.
Hawk: What the fuck OP NICKNAME. I was about to close the deal and give her the dick.
OP: Oh, I am certain there would have been MORE DICK GIVING THAN YOU EXPECTED.
We are now in the bathroom and Hawk is FINALLY picking up on then indicators.
At The Urinal
Hawk: Why are the urinal stalls so tall? They go all the way to the fucking ceiling!
OP: Because it is a gay bar.
OP: Gay bar! We are at a fucking gay bar.
Hawk: REALLY? Are you sure!
OP: Oh I am pretty fucking sure. The drag queens that have been doing performances the entire night pretty much clued me in. Oh, and the bouncer told me it was a GAY BAR, SO I AM PRETTY FUCKING SURE THIS IS A GAY BAG.
Hawk: (Full-Retard) At least I found a hot chick right?
OP: With a dick!
Hawk: NO. She is a fucking chick. Did you see her tits?
OP: Yes. I saw HIS TITS. They are nice.
Hand Washing Time (Fuck you COVID)
Hawk: You're an asshole just trying to cock-block me.
OP: I am not cock-blocking you. I AM TRYING TO COCK-BLOCK HIM. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING A YELLOW BRACELET?
Hawk: Yellow is my favorite color.
OP: Yellow also means you're bisexual here. Pink means you're gay. Your "Lady-Friend" is wearing a mother fucking PINK BRACELET, MEANING "SHE" IS A "HE" AND VERY GAY.
Hawk just doesn't want to a believe it. He seems to think he is a "combat-killing-pussy-slayer" and not, well, Hawk. He is now in complete and utter denial, and trying to convince me that Santa Clause is real.
Hawk: No. It's a women. Maybe she fucked up the bracelets too!?!
OP Brain: Should I unblock the cock, and let him finger-it-out on his own?
OP: Hawk, do women have Adam's apples?
OP: Then why is her Adam's apple the size of a coconut?
Return to Bar
Hawk: (No subtle conversation; just pure Hawk) Are you a girl?
Princess: Not yet, but I'd like to be your girl.
Hawk: I am sorry, but I think there has been some miscommunication here. I am straight...
Princess: (Not so fucking happy) Then why in the fuck are you wearing a yellow bracelet?
Hawk: It's my favorite color.
OP Brain: (Hysterical laughter) "It's my favorite color"
Princess: FUCK YOU, and you own me ten bucks for that drink.
Hawk: You bought it for...
Princess: For a bisexual guy (Pause) I was gonna fuck tonight. You ain't that guy.
Hawk pays up! I rescue Hawk from the Princess and return him to the circle of married guys.
John: (Laughing) You kissed a dude!!!
Hawk: Fuck you! He kissed me first.
Hawk went to the bouncer and replaced his "open of all comers" bracelet and got an Orange one. It was the end of Hawk's ham wallet hunt. His new bracelet indicated he was a sad single guy, and thankfully, there were no mentally deficient ladies willing to swim in the shallow end of the gene pool. Hawk went 0 - 1 that night which was a good thing. The news of Hawk's endeavor spread like chlamydia in a whorehouse on payday. He would never live "kissing a guy" down, but it was still a better outcome than letting Princess turn Hawk's "Exit Only" balloon-knot into a "Yield the Right of Way." Dude almost got butt-fucked for real.
I will post another Hawk tale next Monday Fuckery-Folks. I hope you enjoyed this non-military tale of Hawk.
AITA for running fast to catch the bus because I didn't want to wait for the next?
So I took a look outside of the window as always and saw the bus standig there already. As soon as the tram stopped and I was able to walk out, I sprinted cause I didn't want the bus to drive away without me. Those were about 30 meters distance.
As expected, I was there in time. When I entered the bus however the bus driver gave me a "crazy sign" with his hand and said to me "Why are you running like that? Are you nuts?" I was perplexed at first, and didnt know how to respond. Then felt kinda embarrased since the bus was full of other students. I said that he is not allowed to speak in such a manner and tone to me (His tone was quite agressive). He just shook his head and didnt seem to listen to me at all, told me to already take a seat and what I was waiting for. I was aggrevated and threateded to call the cops if he continued. He shook his head in silence so I dropped it and took my seat.
I felt so humiliated. All of this just doesn't make sense to me. So, I'm asking you, Did I miss something?
Edit: I just wanted to thank you for your input and to make clear I understand that it was a misunderstanding and I overreacted in the end. I will try to avoid such behaviour in future. However I will not excuse the behaviour of the bus driver. May it be a misunderstanding or not he insulted me.