In an unprecedented move, the entire staff of The Daily Discord has pledged to drink as much as possible this Saint Patrick’s Day. When asked to elaborate, on what many are calling a senseless publicity stunt, CEO Pierce Winslow had this to say, “I know a lot of people drink quite a bit on Saint Patty’s Day already, but we are going to drink sooo much that normal people will seem like a bunch of nuns at AA.”
When asked the purpose for all the drinking, friend of the Discord and horror author Mike Griffiths had this to say, “We all know that Saint Patrick was responsible for saving many aspects of Christian history, which has worked out so well for us, and he supposedly drove the snakes from Ireland…namely the English. As a Pagan snake worshipper all this just makes me want to smash a U2 album and kick some leprechaun in the head. So that’s why I’ve resolved to construct a model of Saint Patrick out of living mice and duct tape, which I will then feed to my reticulated python. I’m hoping the tradition will take off like Guy Fawkes or Leif Erikson Day.”
After searching the entire Discord Tower Complex, we caught up with Mr. Winslow in the dumpster out back, trying to find something to eat.
“No, no, no…,” said Winslow. “We aren’t doing this as a charity fundraiser, although my ride does need a new set of tires. I consider this more of a silent protest against the capitalistic money grubbers who aren’t giving me my fair share of the Sheppard’s Pie! How am I going to afford a second exotic petting zoo on the south lawn of my third estate with all these people refusing to share their wealth? Trickle down my ass.” When asked to elaborate more on his view on Reagonomics, he said, “No, I mean I felt something trickle down my ass. I think I’m going to climb out of this dumpster now.”
As I was leaving, the Ghetto Shaman ran into me with his car and, from the looks of things, had started his celebrating a little early.
“The rest of these guys here are a bunch of panty waists and not fit to be shown a bottle of Vermouth at ten paces,” said the Shaman. “It makes me sick, seeing Griffiths and Zano with their ‘micro-brews’ and Cokie McGrath with her Boonsfarm and bottom shelf absinthe. I’ll be drinking like a real Irishman, not some micro-snob trustafarrian. Whiskey with a Whiskey chaser over here, bar keep! I’m going to drink so much my puke will be 80-proof, which my dog will appreciate later.”
When pressed for any real reason for dangerously binging on this day already known for dangerous binging, Mick Zano said, “It’s not about making sense. Have you seen our marquee/scroller thingie? The Discord has never been about making sense…duh.”
When it was pointed out that pledging to do something is typically associated with a good cause or at least a positive social outcome. After I made this comment, Griffiths punched me in the face and asked me if I wanted to wrestle. These are behaviors I was later told are connected with an elevated BAC.
Later, after I put ice on my jaw and was trying to sneak out the side door, Zano attempted to sell me his rare beer coaster collection that looked to be a stack of soggy paper towels. Mr. Winslow then asked me to head to the store to pick up a case of aged Scotch, but only handed me a dollar. The Ghetto Shaman mumbled a thread of obscenities and demanded this bar crawl adopt a “naked” theme. Unfortunately, I was dragged along. If this piece gets posted, I guess it means that some of us made it back alive. Oh, wait know, I can send it from my phone…so no guarantees.
Tell my wife I love her. Peace.
