Walks_At_Night
Hall Of Famer, Morg!
Ellevated
A couple of days after I graduated High School, my folks moved out of Detroit to a small town in Northern Michigan. During the summers while I was going to college, I lived there and worked at a big golf course and resort. Worked in the bag drop area - pulled golf carts out of the barn, parked golf carts back into the barn, gassed golf carts, cleaned golf carts, loaded golf bags onto carts, cleaned golf shoes and clubs. Summers are beautiful up that way so not a bad gig at all.
One time this group pulls up in their carts after finishing their day. There is some burly guy passed out in the passenger seat of one of the carts. He's sun burned like a lobster and reeking of Meister Brau. His buddies say "That's The Moose. We're going into the bar, just leave him be. We'll be back for him later". This is not good because we wanna get the cart cleaned up, the 10,000 Meister Brau empties put in the can return thingy [10 cents a can in the MI] and the cart put back in the barn, but whatever.
After a while sounds start emanating from deep in inside The Moose. Growling, churning, sloshing sounds. We're all like "Whoa baby. He's gonna spew". Sure enough he wakes up, staggers over to the rubbish barrel we keep in the bag drop area - it's one of those big Rubbermaid 32 Gallon deals. The Moose grabs both handles of it looks down and we are all relieved as it looks like he is gonna hurl into the rubbish can, which is easily the best case scenario at this point. Suddenly, The Moose focuses and notices our little buddy in there - Rocky the Raccoon. All thoughts of vomiting are gone from The Moose now as he is absolutely livid. Filled with pure hatred, he reaches into the rubbish can and grabs Rocky by the scruff of the neck!
He pulls Rocky out and starts shaking the hell out the hapless beast. He then holds it up by his face and he starts to holler at it. He is yelling things...awful things. Things no human should say to an animal "You little bastard. I'm gonna ram my c*ck up your tight little Coon ass. Then I'm gonna rip your head off, skin you and nail your hide to that God D*mned tree". Obviously, Rocky has had enough of that treatment - he was used to us feeding him marshmallows and being kind to him - kind of like a bag drop area mascot. Rocky struggles, reaches back and nails The Moose's hand. Lays it open like a Fillet-O-Fish. Dripping an incredible amount of blood, The Moose collapses in a heap, pukes and passes out again.
So now what? We can get the cart cleaned up, gassed and put away. So that's good. However, now we've got a drunken disaster in our area. "Is that Moose dude dead?". "I dunno - maybe we should check on him". "Well if he ain't breathing, I'm not giving him mouth-to-mouth". "Screw that - I ain't either". So eventually, I go over and kind of toe The Moose with my shoe and it is established that he's still breathing. Great but now what? We discuss the options: We can go into the bar and inform his posse, we can report the situation to our supervisor or we can just pretend it never happened. Obviously the third choice is the way to go - we don't know nothing.
Eventually the guys come out the bar to retrieve The Moose and find him lying in a pool of blood and vomit. "What the hell happened to The Moose". "Uhm - we're not really sure. We think, like, he got attacked by an animal". "Looks like he may need stitches, is their a Doctor in this town?" "Well there was, but he killed himself last Winter in a snowmobile wreck and we never got a new one. Not too many Doc's wanna live up this way. You'll have to take him the hospital". "Well where's that?" "Oh its not too far. Two counties over - like 60 miles one way". "!$%$@%$@ Moose. You are such a pain in the ass". So they scrape The Moose off the ground, dump into the back of their van and drive away.
A pointless story but the best I can come up with during this never ending work call that I'm stuck on.