I thought, for this week, I'd tell you a story. I spent a couple of weeks in Salt Lake Shitty... err, I mean City... and it was very interesting, to say the least. You have to love Jesus, white people, and panhandling bums, or as I like to call it, church. At night, the streets are about as energetic as I am (not very). But, one night, two other people and I went out to our favorite dive bar, and that's when we ran into the pool shark.
A dive bar is titled as such because it has a pool (table). But there's no lifeguard on duty. It's sink or swim for you, based on your abilities. The drinks are cheap, just like the people. It smells like alcohol and failure. So naturally, that's where you would find three friends relaxing after a long day, and one hoodie wearing crack-fiend huddled in the corner.
You what? You forgot your beer? That's your excuse for coming back to the table to watch us play pool? Um, it's ok, but I've heard better. Sure, you can have the next game. Wait? Why did you take your jacket off?
This guy then started to bounce and rack the balls with the intensity of an expert pool player. Why are you dancing around the table on your tippy toes? He then broke the triangle of balls and proceeded to beat my friend, while goofing around and trying to let him win by playing with one hand behind his back. Oh you fancy, huh?
My brother watched this happen and was like "I can take him." Famous last words, based on how this long-haired LSD doer played last time and how my brother played all night. My brother actually played this meth head in a game of pool while tipsy. But here's the strange part. This drugged-out wackjob broke and then my brother proceeded to run the table, i.e. made every shot, until he had only the eight ball left. This startled our hooded acquaintance, who then focused up, and had to make every shot from there on out, which he did because, don't forget, he's a pool shark. But it was still amazing!!!!
We quickly realized that we had gained the respect of this weirdo because he wouldn't stop telling us that we had. I think it was then that he offered us weed for the first time. We said "No," finished our beers, and then tried to leave without this guy, but he followed us out. He told us that we were always welcome in his city, if we ever came back. Um, this city belongs to Mormom Jesus, not you, you idiot. Also "No," we don't want weed, but thanks for the second offer.
As we walked away, though, I realized something: the long hair, him telling us it's his city, the offers of weed. That was Mormon Jesus!!!!! I quickly spun around to see him again, but he was gone. Damn!! I wanted to ask him things, maybe get his autograph. But he was gone. We missed it. I walked back sad, drunk, and confused. But I was changed for the better. And that's the story of the time we were hustled at pool by Mormon Jesus.