Лим
POST GRIND VENICE
ATHLETE-CHRIS COOK PHOTOGRAPHER-CARLOS REYNOSA
Skarfing
Material
with Chef-Boy-Am-I-Hungry
SOON TO BE A MOVIE
It was probably California. It was probably
June. It was probably a weekday. It was pro-
bably mid-afternoon, but it could've been
closer to nine o'clock at night. Danny, his
brother and I had just walked into the
Smokey Mountain Saloon for a couple of
real cold long-necked ones I suggested we
belly-up to a railing in the center of the room,
so we could command a strategic power-
spot perspective of the joint. Dan's brother,
Marty, began to extoll the virtues of the bar-
maid's chest as some obvious cocaine ad-
dict psuedo metal-rocker with a nine-dollar
poodle-doo and an authentic ultra-thin black
leather designer dance jacket and white
running shoes began yelling at what I'm
supposin' is his old lady. I began to get
somewhat annoyed so I whispered loudly
to Dan, "Hey, this guy's obviously uptight
about something. Look at all the attention.
he's trying to draw to his macho self."
It was loud enough for the loud mouth to
hear. He instantly fell silent, and I could feel
the arrows from his eyes piercing one side
of my face. Then he started in on the girl
again. I was afraid he was just short of
walloping her with a backhand and I'd have
to turn into Sir Lancelot or something. So
I whisper to Marty, "This guy's really begin-
nin' to piss me off. Hell, I can't hear the
piped-in MTV music" Well, that did it. Mr.
Macho Loudmouth's face began to pump
up with 80 psi rage, and he stormed out in
a huff.
"Are you always like this?" Danny asks.
"No, it's gonna get better, but in a bad
way." I pull a fin from my pocket, flip it to
Marty. "Get me a shot of Quervo, a slice of
lime and some sea salt," I said. "It makes
me creative. Creativity gets me into these
things, creativity gets me out of 'em. Let's
go sit over in the corner. It looks like the best
spot in the place, especially in this sitch. It's
a move I learned from Malcolm X. I ran into
him before he got real big. He gave me this
one piece of advice, and I'll never forget it.
He said. 'Always, when in a public place, or
anyplace for that matter, sit with your back
to the wall and face your surroundings. That
way no one can sneak up on you."
That geek with the funny hair is gonna
be back, and he won't be alone. Just watch."
Sure enough, no sooner had I said it than
the dude and a big buddy (bigger than me)
came in looking for me. I saw 'em and,
pretending not to notice, just sat there look-
ing indifferent, with something heavy begin-
ning to brew in my mind. My sour expres-
sions sometimes scare cops. Especially my
brother the cop
Marty was back with the Quervo just as
Loudmouth spotted me in my corner. I knew
he was lookin' when I stuck the whole shot
glass in my mouth and sucked on it for
awhile before spittin' it into the air and cat-
ching it as I smacked my lips, finished the
last half of my beer in one gulp, reached
over, grabbed Dan's, finished all if it, then
burped louder than the David Lee Roth
video on the MTV
"Are you O.K.?" Marty queried.
"I'm locked into automatic now, boy. Back
in Nam there was no stoppin' this machine
when it was locked into automatic. Just
cover your eyes and hope there's no
fireworks." I said.
"Yeah, Marty. Look out. I've seen him like
this once before, and it wasn't very pretty.
He knows what he's doing." said Danny.
I saw them coming closer. I knew they
thought I didn't know they were there. Only
two more tables, and I got 'em. I hold up at
beer to the light, feigning a contents check.
look past the Loudmouth and pal, switch
from indifference to total rage, spring to my
feet, grab a long neck, flip over our table,
point to the bar behind the oncoming
schmucks and scream, "There's the son of
a bitch who stole my Harley!!"
I ran straight through the would-be
predators, straight for the biggest guy I
could find at the bar spun him around on
his stool and said, "Hey you sono...Oh.
Sorry, I thought you were somebody else.
Real sorry. Ya see, some guy, about your
size, same hair too..well, I saw him just
as he was truckin' off my Harley. It's had me
upset for months. You can understand, hey,
let me buy you a drink, it's the least I can
do. I feel real bad now."
The guy's astonishment soon wore off.
He was a mountain of a man, but I didn't
care. Every mountain on earth has been
counquered, I think. He looked at me and
said, "No, thank you, pal, / should buy you
a drink. Hell, I'm lucky you didn't kill me. I
respect a man and his Harley. Got one
myself. Naw, never mess with a man and
his Harley. What'll you have?"
"Bud, thanks." I looked into the mirror
behind the bar in time to see the Loudmouth
runnin' after his hired hand and sayin',
"What do you mean do it myself. Maybe two
of us, but not just me!"
I looked over to Danny and Marty, gave
them an "I told you so" wink and turned
back to my new friend and said, "Have you
ever heard of the.
SLOPPY BUT WORTH IT RECIPE?
Ingredients
hot dogs (all meat or fake meat weenies will
• hot dog buns
mozzarella cheese
• big or small can of pizza sauce (make a deci
sion for once in your life)
• oregano
• garlic (powder, minced, salt, any kind, but you
gotta have garlic)
Directions:
1. Boil the hot dogs for ten minutes, then
drain the water. While you let them cool, you
might want to get some food coloring for
some special hot dog colors.
2. Heat your oven to 400° or if you're only
gonna do a couple, you can use a toaster
3. Spread open the buns and place on a
baking sheet with the inside part facing up.
4. Put a slice of mozzarella cheese on each
bun.
5. Split the weenies lengthwise and put on
a separate sheet, or use the same one. I
don't care.
6. Spoon about 1/2 teaspoons pizza sauce
onto the weenies and sprinkle on the garlic
and oregano to taste.
7. Put dogs and buns into oven and cook
about 8 minutes.
8. Pull out, turn off the oven, put the weenies
on the buns, let cool and skarf to hog
heaven.
(Recipe submitted by Chef Bloutski of Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts.)
SHIRT WITHOUT THE R
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