It’s getting close to Mardi Gras again, which means that Otis sends out the
usual email inviting all of us from the Millsaps/Pike House glory daze to come
down for the annual house party @ his place Uptown in New Orleans. Usually
this elicits some back and forth banter amongst the cc’ed which resulted in
Lucky telling the below tale. I’ve changed the names of the errrr, innocent
(heh), though most of you who’ve run with this crowd know exactly who Lucky
is talking about.
Parnell, if you haven’t heard about the time Starksy and Hutch came down to
Oxford for the Georgia game, I have quite a story to tell.
As you might expect,
Starksy does not run very well. In fact, given a sufficient amount of whiskey
and coke he tends to trip, fall, stumble and generally fuck things up quite
a bit. Needless to say, when he and his little cohort began crashing their
way through the Grove cussing, swearing and boasting, they stirred up some
Now, me, personally, I’d have hightailed it out of there (unless Otis
was around to get my back). But, remember, this is Starksy, and he can’t
run very well. So, about five seconds after he breaks into a "sprint" he
trips and smashes his face on the ground. At which point Hutch hauls him
up by the shirt and all but drags his bloody ass to the car while their pursuers
laugh, point and heckle from a distance (Dan, you know what that’s like).
But Starksy’s misadventures don’t end there. No, Hutch manages to drive him
back to my apartment where they have left their belongings. Since I’m at the
Grove, Starksy kicks in my door, ruining the deadbolt and splintering the frame.
To make up for the damages, he leaves me a signed blank check which bounces
like a rubber ball when I try to cash it for the whopping sum of $14 (new deadbolt).
In case you’re wondering, that’s why I’m going to sue his punk ass. And, in
answer to your question, I have known Starksy to run, just not very well.
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