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You have just been pulled over for driving erratically along a local street. You shove your open container under the seat and start fumbling for your ID and insurance as the cop approaches your window. He catches a whiff of the fumes emanating from your vehicle and asks you the following question:
Q#1: Sir, have you been drinking tonight?
PWA #5: Absolutely not osifer. I happen to use a mixture of Bud Light, Jim Beam and Jose Cuervo as my body wash, shampoo, after shave, toothpaste and deodorant. I like to get cleaned up and liquored up all at the same time!
PWA#4: No, I was smoking crack and I dropped my lighter on the floor.
PWA#3: Are you addressing me as Sir out of respect for my appearance, or is it because you have a high regard for my drunk driving skills?
PWA#2: Actually I gave up drinking. I eat psilocybin mushrooms now to enhance my driving experience. I've got some right here if you'd like to try a handful...
PWA#1: I would really like to answer your question, but I might have to throw up on you first.
Here's your chance to vote for the worst answer!
You can vote for the Worst Answer! Remember that, at worstanswer.com, the Worst Answer is actually the Best Answer.
Bringing homegrown humor from deep in the heart of Texas to the worldwide web!
The premise is quite simple. As we journey through life, each of us is sure to face questions on a daily basis. Some of these questions are important.
worstanswer.com is all about considering the most inappropriate outrageously funny answers you can imagine for the question(s) at hand!
Here's how it works:
We present You with a Scenario!
We present You with Question(s)!
We present You with Possible Worst Answers(PWAs) to the questions!
Here's how you can join in the fun!
Most of us have learned to stay out of trouble by answering the important questions appropriately.
You hear voices crackling on the cop's radio and vaguely You notice that a second set of flashing lights has arrived behind the cop's car as he asks you the second question, giving You yet another chance to make things worse:
DUIQ2: How much have you had to drink tonight?
PWA#4: Why? Did you want to buy me another one?
PWA#3: If you'll hand me a beer and a cigarette, I'll tell you.
PWA#2: I'm gonna need a calculator to add 'em all up.
PWA#1: I don't know if I understand your question.
Can you clarify when tonight started? After all the beers I had for breakfast and the margaritas at lunch, I find I've completely lost track of the time.
Which one is the Worst Answer?
Let's move on to the next scenario!
Your lovely wife has just spent six hours and at least a hundred dollars at the local hair salon. You have divided your time while she was gone between watching sports on TV, making sandwiches for lunch, and watching internet porn.
You are seated at the computer as she arrives home. She fluffs her hair as she asks You an important question:
Well, dear, what do you think?
HairPWA#3: I think that depends upon your historical perspective. There was a time when they thought gargoyles perched on buildings were stylish.
HairPWA#2: I think you look like a blonde French poodle with the mange.
HairPWA#1: I wasn't aware that the latest trend was the roadkill look.
Vote here for the Worst Answer!
You have unfortunately been convicted and are now about to be sentenced in the courtroom of a crusty old Judge known as Hard Time Henry. Your scumbag attorney stands next to You in his custom-tailored suit as the Judge asks you the following somewhat important question:
Do you have anything to say before I impose sentence?
CPWA#5: I really wish I would have gotten away with it.
CPWA#4: It never would have happened if it hadn't rained that day.
CPWA#3: Yo Mama, your honor!
CPWA#2: Sorry to disappoint you, but my attorney warned me never to speak about my hideously violent crimes or how much I enjoyed carrying them out.
CPWA#1: They deserved whatever they got!
Vote here for the worst answer:
You can always submit your own homegrown humor to the site by clicking on the Submit button in the green border on the left side near the top and bottom of the page!
Moving right along to the next scenario:
This particular scenario has special significance for me because it was the inspiration for the creation of this website. I tell this true story because I think it illustrates how one's priorities and direction in life can change in a single inexplicable moment if we are ready for and open to the change.
I was traveling back to Texas with my beautiful lady after some very fun times in Las Vegas. We left Sin City at about 11 a.m. Vegas time on March 21, 2012 -- about an hour before Barack Obama was due to land at the Vegas airport. We headed south on 95 past the huge solar array the Pres was going to visit just before the cops shut the highway down for his motorcade.
We passed through the Mojave desert, joined up with Interstate 10 at Blythe, California, and started the long trip east toward Texas. We arrived in El Paso at about 1:30 a.m. Texas time. We rolled up to the Texas Inspection Stop about 50 miles east of El Paso shortly thereafter.
We encountered a friendly but serious-looking cop at that point, and he asked us two questions. Because we wanted to get home to our canine friends and family, I answered his questions appropriately.
He thanked me and waved us through the checkpoint. As we headed further east on that chilly Texas morning on the second day of Spring in 2012, I knew somehow that something important had just transpired.
I began to ask myself out loud what would have been the worst possible answers I could have given to the cop's questions. By the time we reached our Austin area home in mid-afternoon, I was ready to write my answers down on paper. The rest, as they say, is history!
Here are the actual questions the cop asked,and, of course, the Possible Worst Answers to his questions:
Q1: Are you U.S. citizens?
TxPWA#5: Do you mean just us or the people in the trunk too?
TxPWA#4: I asked you first! Don't you remember?
TxPWA#3: That's for me to know and for you not to find out.
TxPWA#2: No! I'm Barack Obama and this is the first lady.
TxPWA#1: I think I'm either a Martian or a Venusian but I can't remember which.
Vote for the Worst Answer!
Q2: Where are y'all from?
YallPWA#5: I guess that depends on whether you believe in evolution, intelligent design, or the Bible.
YallPWA#4: We're from our mommies and daddies, of course!
YallPWA#2: Only my personal psychic knows for sure.
YallPWA#1: Come on now. Isn't it more important for us to know where we're going than where we're from?
Y'all can vote for the worst answer now:
Hope You enjoyed these! More scenarios to come ASAP. Special thanks to Webmaster Jon Blackmon for devising solutions to the technical challenges, for teaching me how to input my text into these ornery yet magnificent machines they call computers, and for continuing to tweak the site's appearance to make it more presentable. BLC
This is the cop's actual second question:
Welcome to our free humor website! If You prefer your humor in traditional forms--like Jokes, Riddles, Limericks and such--You can find plenty of these at the Texas-sized Make Me Laugh! page of the site.
Feel free to enjoy great music as You peruse the site. We proudly feature the following artists performing on these respective pages:
Pink Floyd "The Wall"
Cat Stevens "Moon Shadow"
Harry Chapin "Taxi"
Jason Mraz "I'm Yours"
Make Me Laugh! page
"Lime in the Coconut"
Make Me Laugh page
Three Dog Night
"Mama Told Me Not to Come"
Redneck Jokes page
"In the Summertime"
Lawyer Jokes page
Grateful Dead "Ripple"
"Won't Get Fooled Again"
"Roll Another Joint"
In the wake of the recent decision by Austin's Mayor and city council to confront head-on the threat posed by the dreadful and evil plastic bags against all future life on this planet, it seems fitting that we post as our first site user-created scenario(submitted by GC on 4/1/2012)--a thoughtful consideration of the eternal debate between the tree-huggers and the plastic-haters:
You are in the store and at checkout. The clerk asks,
Q: "Paper or Plastic?"
PaplasPWA#4: For now, I will take plastic. I need to go home and grow some trees before I can use any more paper bags.
PaplasPWA#3: For now, I will take paper. I need to dig a deep hole near my home and put some ferns and other biomass in there to turn into crude oil, before I can use any more plastic bags.
PaplasPWA#2: Neither. I'm sorry, but this is a holdup. Just give me the money and I'll put it in my pockets.
PaplasPWA#1: Paper or plastic, either one. Doesn't matter to me, I'm bi-sacks-ual!
Fremont St. in Vegas--3/20/2012
Many thanks to GC for his timely and insightful submission. You can Vote for the Worst Answer in the box below:
Relax and Enjoy the Humor!
We proudly present the site in its current ad-free format with the single exception of this unpaid political ad:
God bless Ron Paul
The guy is so right-on in terms of protecting our constitutional freedoms and not fighting ridiculous global wars on terrorism that he deserves our support for as long as he chooses to serve!
Our next user-created Scenario comes to Us from a member of a long-suffering group of public employees: i.e. the Teachers. It seems that they are forever adapting to new job descriptions as Society tries to make up its mind on what to teach and what not to teach.
Further complicating their efforts is the multitude of masters they must deal with. For example, should they pay more attention to state officials, school administrators, parents or to Little Johnny himself?
Thanks to CF for his submission, We get an idea of what the PWA might be in a dank and dusty public school classroom during a Parent-Teacher conference as Little Johnny's single mother waits to learn of his progress during the last six weeks.
Q: How's Little Johnny Doing?
TPWA#5: He should be fine, once we get him unstuck from his art project.
TPWA#4: Let's just say that F does not stand for fantastic!
TPWA#3: For a long time I thought he was brain dead, but then I found out that he had just been smoking crack at lunch. I'm sure he's a charming kid, though.
TPWA#2: Aaaah, Little Johnny: The wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead.
TPWA#1: Like I told you at the last conference, I have yet to see Little Johnny in the classroom--but my other students tell me he's around here somewhere. Does he by chance wear a cloak of invisibility?
Thank You CF for your elegant submission. Now--since we are erroneously taught this is a democracy--You have a chance to Vote for the Worst Answer!
On this page, We invite You to participate in the creation of homegrown--by that we mean freshly-created--humor in a unique and interactive worst answer format!
Note: If you're looking for porn on the site, you won't find any because that's not what we're about. You can find humorous content which is consistent with our Guidelines for Submission spelled out on the Submit page of the site. Some of the content contained herein may not be appropriate for viewing by children. This is a voluntary content advisory.
Our next scenario takes us back to familiar territory as You find yourself in trouble with the authorities again. In this case, it all started when You received a letter from your "friends" at the Internal Revenue Service a few months back.
They requested specific documentation and receipts for a certain $47,934 business deduction You took on your tax return a couple of years ago.
You remembered the year because your lovely wife had decided to become an entrepreneur in the cosmetics and costume jewelry field for a major retailer specializing in such products.
At first, You reluctantly agreed, but wound up supporting the venture when You found out it gave You more free time around the house.
Unfortunately, sales were minimal and expenses were large. You never really knew how much money she lost because she wouldn't tell You--but You knew it was a lot.
You told a co-worker about your problem and he suggested that claiming your wife's losses would result in a fine tax refund. It did.
When You got the IRS's letter, You considered consulting a scumbag tax attorney, but You didn't want to throw good money after bad. Instead, You drank even more heavily than usual and hoped they would find someone else to pick on.
The IRS dashed your hopes when they sent You a second letter notifying You of the appointed date and time for a full-blown audit.
You chain-smoked your last two cigarettes as You approached the stately IRS building because You knew they wouldn't let you smoke in federal prison. After You parked your 15 year-old clunker far away from the fleet of new and shiny government cars in the lot, You took a quick shot of cheap vodka from the flask under the seat to calm your nerves and help deal with the hangover from last night's consumption.
You barely noticed the taxpayer-financed ornate landscaping in front of the building and passed through the metal detectors inside the automatic doors without incident. You noticed that You were perspiring profusely as You rode up the elevator with a small group of android-resembling IRS employees. You looked to see if they had guns on their belts, but none were apparent.
You were feeling queasy as You checked out the auditor's heavily made up secretary who instructed You that it was your time to enter his office, but the first hour and a half passed fairly uneventfully as he continued to ask You for documentation You didn't have.
You notice vaguely that he is becoming more impatient and agitated, even as You are becoming more bored and resigned to your fate. Finally he pauses and seems to be searching his plutocratic mind for a question that will provoke a significant response from You. He gets up from behind his desk and begins to pace the floor in front of the window to the real world outside. He pauses abruptly and frames his first Question in the following way:
"You have not brought a single shred of evidence to support your deduction. You seem not to understand the serious nature of this infraction."
Q: "Do You realize that filing an intentionally fraudulent tax return can result in significant civil and criminal penalties against You?"
PWA#4: I'm as serious as the heart attack I'm hoping you might experience at this very moment!
PWA#3: They say ignorance is bliss. I suppose I'm just a very blissful person...
PWA#2: I fully realize that you are a scum-sucking federal maggot who engages in the practice of re-distributing the income of others.
PWA#1: It's an interesting question, but Dr. Ron Paul correctly interprets the U.S. constitution and concludes that income taxes are illegal and infringe upon our personal liberties as Americans.
Vote now before they throw us all into federal prison:
The auditor, though taken aback by your response, has obviously heard similar libertarian sentiment before. He attempts to return the conversation to his number one priority with his next Question:
"In the event that we do not pursue criminal penalties against You, there is still the matter of the fines and debt you have incurred. Including interest and related charges, your $47,934 erroneous deduction has generated a tax bill of approximately ... $129,552.98--payable in full immediately. Do You have the necessary assets to pay your debt, or would You prefer to arrange a payment plan?"
PWA#4: Definitely neither! By the way, I thought I read somewhere that involuntary servitude was abolished in this country nearly 150 years ago.
PWA#3: Fine. I'll just go home and print up some You Notes in exactly the amount you're requesting. They're probably worth as much as federal reserve notes.
PWA#2: Shall I open a vein for you, or would you rather sink your blood-sucking fangs into my neck?
PWA#1: Tell you what. Why don't I just reach across this desk and wring your scrawny little beancounter neck. I may get shot by some armed guard, but my fellow taxpayers will always remember me as the hero who stood up to you!
Is He a Hero or a Zero? Vote Now!
For several months, You'd been planning a fishing trip with your good buddy J.W. The occasion was a weekend Bassmaster tournament at a not too distant lake. You planned to arrive there at the check-in time of 6:00a.m. Saturday and fish until sunset on Sunday. Last year, You and J.W. finished 57th out of 60 boats in the competition, but You enjoyed the companionship and the chance to drink a couple of cases of ice cold beer while riding around the lake in J.W.'s bass boat.
On the morning of the event, You found yourself dreaming of being rained on and awoke to find that your lovely wife
was standing over You drizzling ice water onto your head. She loudly informed You that your alarm clock had woke her up 15 minutes ago. You cursed and stumbled into your fishing clothes just as J.W. arrived out front and began to honk. You grabbed your gear and opened the front door to find that the forecasters had been right for a change. After last year's drought, the rain had returned to central Texas with a vengeance. By the time You stowed your gear in the boat and in the cab of J.W.'s big pickup, You were soaked.
"They say it might rain," J.W. said with a laugh as You climbed into the truck.
"I noticed," You replied. "We better get moving or we'll be late."
J.W. gunned the Hemi V-8 motor and sped off through the dark early morning downpour in the direction of the interstate. He made a quick stop at a convenience store for a large bag of ice and two extra large coffees. Back in the truck, You added copious amounts of Irish whiskey, cream and sugar to each cup and handed one to J.W. just as he accelerated up the access ramp to the wet and waiting highway.
The strong Irish coffees began to have their desired effects as You and J.W. headed north toward the lake at a high rate of speed. Windshield wipers busily slapped time to a Merle Haggard CD as You and J.W. discussed fishing strategies. Soon You moved on to the latest dating and porn sites You each had visited recently, under assumed names of course.
The truck suddenly shuddered and You noticed in the mirror that the boat trailer was bouncing and listing to the right. J.W. hit the brakes and found a fairly level spot on the shoulder to attempt the tire replacement. "This shouldn't take but a minute," he said. "I'm gonna' need You to hold the flashlight."
An hour later your windbreaker was saturated through to your skin by the relentless rain as You continued to hold the flashlight for J.W. You both had better raingear stowed in the boat, but it was too much trouble to get to for something that was only supposed to take a minute. J.W. had managed to loosen three of the lugnuts on the ruined tire in just a few minutes, but the fourth one was rusted and broke off inside the lug wrench. He positioned the jack under the trailer axle while lying prone in the rainwater as it drained from the highway. Now and then an 18-wheeler rumbled by, soaking you both with backwash like spray from a garden hose nozzle.
J.W. asked You to bring him the spare tire and You discovered that it was flat and that the 12-volt pump J.W. asked You to retrieve from the cab of the pickup didn't work in the rain. J.W. uttered a few choice expletives even You had never heard before and You both decided it was time to retreat and regroup.
Back in the truck, J.W cranked up the motor so he could run the heater and dry off. You located the bottle of Irish whiskey and grabbed a couple of shot glasses from your portable bar. You toasted each other's health and drank a second round quickly while deciding which high-priced 24 hour tire service to call. You knew they would charge You an arm and a leg but, after all, the fish were surely waiting at the not-too-distant lake for your arrival.
Dawn broke as You and J.W. smoked cigarettes and sipped Irish whiskey while You waited for the tire guy to arrive. Finally he showed up, worked half an hour, and presented J.W. with a bill for $237 cash only payable immediately. When this was done, You both decided that You were very hungry and proceeded to a nearby truck stop noting that the boat trailer did seem to ride better on that expensive new tire.
The rained seemed to slack off as You pulled into the truck stop parking lot. You told J.W. that breakfast was on You and to get whatever he wanted, so he decided on the blonde waitress. You both ordered the trucker's special and plenty of coffee. You watched as J.W. flirted with the poor girl. Finally, after a particularly rude suggestion, she blushed and fled to the kitchen.
The food didn't take too long to arrive and was delivered to your table by a large dark-skinned man with numerous jailhouse tattoos. J.W. asked him for the missing coffee and some more napkins. He shot a look at J.W. that suggested what he could do with his request, but soon sent out an old Mexican woman with burnt coffee and filthy cups. You started eating as quickly as possible as You saw J.W. complaining about his steak and eggs to the old Mexican woman, who in turn acted like she didn't understand him. "Gringos son locos," she exclaimed as she left the table never to return.
Your check was delivered by the same large dark-skinned man who brought the food, along with a serious suggestion that it was time to leave NOW before things got worse.
You paid him right away and headed outside hoping that J.W. would follow before his nose was broken or he lost some teeth. You watched through the rain-spattered window of the pickup and were glad to see him emerge in just a few minutes with his nose in place and without blood spurting from his face. Surprisingly, he was smiling and carrying a styrofoam container.
J.W. got in the truck and decided to leave the container in the parking lot since he figured the food might have been poisoned by the hostile cook. "How the hell was I supposed to know she was married to the big goon?" he asked. "You saw that look she gave me. She was telling ol' J.W. with her eyes she wanted some!" You agreed to buy a dozen donuts at a nearby shop so J.W. could eat. The rain slowed to a sprinkle as You sped away northbound on the highway again. J.W. happily munched on a coconut creme donut and declared that, even five hours late, the two of You could easily outfish the other competitors at the lake.
It was your turn to pick out some music and You selected a vintage Willie Nelson CD from J.W.'s extensive library. Soon the sounds of "Whiskey River" filled the cab of the truck, inspiring You both to sing the chorus:
Whiskey River take my mind,
Don't let her memory torture me.
Whiskey River don't run dry
You're all I've got to carry me!
J.W. had finished his fourth donut and was thirsty so You reached for the portable bar and extracted the Fishing Bottle of E&J Brandy. You quickly uncapped it and took a hefty swig, hooting as You handed it over to J.W. He hooted in return after he took a giant gulp. Your spirits continued to rise as You zoomed northward and began to see road signs advertising the lake You were headed to. Then J.W. noticed that the truck was going to need some gas and planned for a final stop at a smallish town just 20 miles south of the fishing lake.
A road sign announced that your exit was one mile ahead. J.W. moved the truck to the right lane as a massive lightning bolt split the sky in front of You. This time the rain was mixed with quarter-sized hail as J.W. expertly guided the truck and boat down the exit ramp to the refuge of a nearby gas station. You rushed to the men's room and returned to find J.W. just finishing adding the oil to the bass boat's fuel tank. "Can you fill this thing up so I can go drain the main?" he asked urgently. You took over for him and he ran inside to take care of business. A torrent of rain and hail pelted the roof of the gas pump structure and lightning bolts surrounded You as You finished the gassing up and made sure the boat was in shipshape condition. Everything looked fine so you hopped back in the cab of the truck as J.W. made his way back from the store dodging hailstones like a soldier dodging enemy fire.
Back in the truck, J.W. checked his watch before he fired up the Hemi V8. "We can't launch the boat in this," he said, reaching for the bottle as he pulled away slowly. "How about a quick stop at Patsy's to wait it out?" You agreed in a heartbeat. Patsy's was the local gentlemen's club You and J.W. had visited last year. The girls weren't that hot but they were friendly and appreciative. It was only about a mile up the road and the red neon sign was flashing OPEN when You got there.
Only a handful of pickups occupied the parking lot, but J.W. picked a spot out by the road next to a line of hackberry trees to park the truck and boat. The trees provided some cover from the storm and J.W. observed that it would be easy to leave once the weather cleared up. You both took a final hit from the bottle before You headed for Patsy's front door, crunching hailstones under your feet as You went.
You paid your mandatory "sin tax" at the door to help support the state of Texas legislature, and J.W. chose a table not too close to the stage. A chunky redhead was straddling a pole bumping and grinding to an AC/DC tune and You were hoping there would be something better to look at soon. Sure enough there was and she came in the form of a cocktail waitress. You studied her as she announced that it was happy hour and drinks were two for one. You promptly ordered two Jagermeister shots, two Johnnie Walker Red doubles, and two beer chasers. She smiled sweetly and You were enjoying the sight of her walking away when J.W. decided to reward the redheaded dancer with some currency in her G-string. He returned to the table and informed You that her name was Amber. This didn't tell You much since, in your experience, many strippers were named Amber.
The drinks arrived and You tipped the hot waitress extravagantly. Before she left, You found out her name was Michelle and she was available for table dances. J.W. raised a Jagermeister in the air and You clinked shot glasses to his and your health. You savored the strange herbal taste of the liqueur as it slid down your throat and began to titillate your brain almost immediately.
Your ears perked up when You heard the opening strains of a high energy rock and roll tune from your high school years booming from Patsy's loudspeakers. You took a sip of your whiskey, lit up a smoke, and watched as Amber re-took the stage, dropped her top, and began to gyrate to the music. You reflected as to how the Steve Miller Band really had it together back in the day when You could buy cheap gas and drive around your hometown listening to "Livin' In The USA" on your 8 track tape deck. You thought that Amber's cavorting to the song was a bit awkward, but it was all good and J.W. quickly grabbed his wallet for some currency to further reward her efforts. As he headed to the stage, You were briefly distracted by the sight of Michelle as she carried drinks to a nearby table. She returned your smile and You were pretty sure she winked at You.
J.W. was busy slipping bills into Amber's G-string and she whispered something into his ear that caused him to glare at the D.J. booth to the left of the stage. He returned to the table and informed You angrily that Amber had planned to dance to "Stairway To Heaven," but the song had been stolen by a big Latina stripper named Heather, who apparently had something going on with the D.J.
You offered J.W. a smoke to calm him down, took a drink of your beer chaser and brought up the subject of the Dallas Cowboys' chances of winning another Super Bowl with Tony Romo as quarterback. It was all You could think of at the moment to try and distract him, but You could see it was no use as Amber finished her dance and J.W. glared at the long-haired guy in the D.J. booth.
The next girl on stage was a skinny blonde with plenty of tramp stamps and a piercing or two. She had chosen a lame song by Blondie to try to dance to and You decided that it was a good time to visit the men's room before something crazy happened. You got unsteadily to your feet and attempted to avoid all the chairs and tables that were suddenly in your way.
When You returned to your table, You noticed that J.W. was involved in a heated discussion at the D.J. booth. You watched the skinny blonde trying to dance to her second lame song. With her top off, she was more interesting, but she was definitely not your type. Fortunately, J.W. returned to the table to inform You that he had already ordered another round of drinks before he headed off to visit the facilities, weaving as he went.
You saw the perfectly porportioned figure of Michelle bringing a trayful of drinks in your direction and you knew that something very good or very bad was about to happen soon. Much depended on whether J.W. could forget about Amber's problem, and you never really knew about J.W. Michelle gracefully set down a Cuervo Gold Margarita and a Bloody Mary in front of you and the same on J.W.'s side of the table just as he ambled up. He paid for the drinks and the tip and You extracted a twenty from your wallet.
Michelle knew what You wanted and she dutifully cleared the ashtrays and empty glasses onto her drink tray before she got ready for the table dance. Soon there was nothing but a G-string left to your imagination and every part of her was equal to your expectation. The music started and You were so entranced with Michelle's body that You barely noticed the Led Zeppelin classic at first. J.W. certainly did and he turned to the stage to watch Heather bump and grind to "Stairway to Heaven."
Michelle thrust her luscious posterior in close proximity to your lap and began a slow rotation to the song. Then she turned around and leaned forward, placing her hands on the arms of your chair, brushing your chest with hers as she swayed back and forth. She whispered something into your ear about a V.I.P room encounter, but You couldn't hear her above the noise in the room.
The commotion got even louder, then applause broke out from the tables surrounding the stage. Over Michelle's right shoulder You glimpsed the sight of J.W. proudly holding high in the air a G-string that must have belonged to Heather, who was exiting stage right as naked as the day she was born.
Your table dance ended abruptly when Michelle turned her head to see the cause of the stageside disturbance. She grabbed her clothes and cocktail tray quickly and You saw a burly bouncer advancing toward the stage from the rear of the club. You fought your way to your feet and drained your drinks. Picking up J.W.'s drinks for balance, You moved across the room as if in a dream.
J.W. was still busy high-fiving the guys by the stage, but You were able to get his attention by handing him his Margarita. "Let's get the hell out of here," You said, pointing the way to the door. J.W. hesitated, but he knew You were right so he followed You out of Patsy's with the burly bouncer and long-haired D.J. in close pursuit.
Outside Patsy's, You were relieved to see that the weather had changed for the better. The hailstones had melted away and a light trail of vapor floated skyward from the wet parking lot. You were moving in the direction of the truck and boat when You heard J.W. trading insults with the two men at Patsy's entrance as he leaned against the rusty hood of a pickup a short distance away. You feared this would end badly and went back to persuade J.W. that it was time to end his dispute and move on.
To your surprise, You noticed You were still carrying J.W.'s Blood Mary while You walked. You reached the rusty pickup and handed it to him along with some advice about discretion being the better part of valor. Without a word, he finished his drinks, wadded up the G-sting, stuck it into an empty glass, left the glasses on the hood of the pickup, and followed You toward his truck and boat.
It became obvious to You as You walked that neither of you were capable of driving, so You reminded J.W. that two cases of ice-cold beer awaited you in the boat. With some difficulty, you both climbed in and set up some folding chairs. You grabbed a couple of cold ones from the cooler, lit up some smokes, and observed that it had been quite a trip. J.W. continued to gloat over his neat G-string removal. "I guess I showed her," he said with a chuckle.
"I guess you showed everybody," You said. "I just hope the cops weren't called."
"Hey, I didn't kill anybody," J.W. replied. "She was mostly unwrapped already. I just unwrapped the rest of her." With that, he stood up and attempted to hop out of the boat, but his left foot caught the railing and he cartwheeled his way onto the asphalt below. Before You could get up to check on him, he was up and headed for the truck. He returned to the boat with the unfinished donuts and munched on one before handing the box to You.
"I got an idea," he announced, and, plucking his empty beer can from the boat, he walked to an open area of the parking lot about 50 feet away where he set the can down. When he came back to the boat, he explained that what he had in mind was a casting competition to determine who was the better fisherman. After selecting your heaviest weights from your tackle boxes, you each tied them on your lines and the casting contest commenced.
A pile of empty beer cans accumulated in the boat as you took turns missing the target. Finally, You managed to strike it head on and J.W. conceded that You had won the accuracy portion of the competition. "Now let's see who wins the award for distance!" Without further ado, he drew his rod back and launched an impressively long high cast into the Texas sky.
The fading sunlight glinted off J.W.'s weight as it reached its apogee and began to arc downward. You noticed a black and white car entering the far end of Patsy's parking lot and proceeding slowly in your direction. You wondered what the odds were that the paths of the two moving objects would intersect.
J.W.'s fishing weight plummeted and You heard him exclaim incredulously, "What the--?" just before it crashed into the center of the light bar on top of the black and white vehicle. There was a shattering sound of breaking plastic and glass and a clang of metal on metal as it came to rest. From the front door of Patsy's, You could hear some hooting and hollering and light applause from the small crowd gathered there.
Immediately, the working lights on top of the car began to flash, and the portly figure of a deputy sheriff got out to survey the damage. You were speechless and tried your best not to laugh as he re-entered his car and drove toward You with J.W. reeling him in as he came. He continued to speak into his radio for a minute, then exited the car to approach the boat on foot.
The deputy walked to the front of the truck to check the stickers and plates and briefly looked through the windows before he returned to the side of the boat. He took off his hat and scratched his nearly bald head momentarily, observing You both as he framed the question in his mind.
Q: "Just what do you boys think you're doing out here today?"
FishPWA#5: Obviously, we were just conducting a nice clean fishing competition until your car got in the way!
FishPWA#4: We were just killing time until your wife and your sister show up so we can have us some real fun.
FishPWA#3: I guess we were trolling for cops, and it looks like we caught us a big fat one.
FishPWA#2: Since you refer to us as boys, I was wondering how big men grow where you come from?
FishPWA#1: I got a couple of donuts here that say let us go and you go on about your business.
Fish can't Vote, but You Can, so Here's your Chance:
You and J.W.'s Fishing Trip Scenario
Chicita Has Been Known To Dress Up Occasionally
A Little Bit Of Heaven In Texas
Shall We Call Her Michelle?
Thank You For Your Votes!
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