by Dan Schwartz
I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.
In the middle of a bar, I decided that I wanted to start a fight. So I took the beer bottle I had in my hand and smashed it against the bar, and waved it around at people, yelling, "You wanna go? You wanna go?" (What I didn't know was that I had smashed it wrong, and parts of the bottle cut through my arm.)
The problem was that nobody had even done anything to me. I just was starting shit for no reason. So when everybody realized that they had no idea who I was, and that I was being an asshole, everybody started rushing the bar. Suddenly I was on the floor, being trampled upon, being kicked, having more bottles thrown at me. Eventually the bartender, though on their side, told them to leave me alone. I stumbled up and the bartender literally threw me out.
In the hospital I was told that I had lost a lot of blood. When I got out, I bought a lot of beer and practiced smashing them at home, so that I would be ready that time. It took a few more trips to the hospital, but I think I finally got it right. I am trying to be an expert. They ought to have bar fight competitions, televised all over and as popular as NASCAR. People should place their bets on me. I'm slow, but I'm learning at it. I am getting ready.