Remo: an Introductory Tale

Remo is tall and scruffy looking, the sort of person that, on a typical day, relies more on his own sense of good looks than on his wit. His biggest piece of conversation is usually a big dumb grin that he flashes as a distraction when he finds himself in a coversation where he has gotten over his head. Such conversations have been:a short dissertation on the weight ratios betwixt a steel tank and that of the common African Grey Elephant, the overall merits of Kurt Russell and Remo's life goal of having 1000 things to do and not accomplish any.

But to know the man is to know how the man drinks and the written account of this here story that I'm about to unfold does little to no justice to the events that transpired on the actual night. I've tried to keep the story as truthful as possible and only changed names so that defamations by TGI Friday Corp cannot locate us and/or charge us with the crimes here to for.

On this night, young Remo had been slurping back Wild Turkey shots in the basement of our friend Dell's house. He had actually started the night by taking straight pulls off a bottle of Malibu Rum until one of the females at the party, concerned for his health removed the bottle and replaced it with the Wild Turkey. Whether this was a good call or not is for the reader to pass their own judgment.

The night moved from bar to bar, at one point young Remo had half of his body out the back window (no small feat as this was the Dodge Neon sport coupe edition and to my mind had no rear back window) flicking off a passing limo. He claimed that he was explaining that the Dodge Neon sports edition technically could beat any car off the line for the first ten feet.

Things settled down at the bar for a while and the general consensus was that he would go into quiet mode once the double long island kicked in. This, however, was not the case as I Touch Myself by The DyVinals came on. Downing the remainder of his double long island and with a loud exclamation to the rest of the gathered TGI Friday crowd "I have a carpenter's body" young Remo promptly whipped off his shirt and proceeded to step up on the table.

The folks at the Roseville TGI Friday's are often characterized as not having a good sense of humor. Back in the old days, when they were required to wear "flair" the Roseville staff chose not to wear funny buttons, only off setting ones. To this day I think I have as yet to laugh at that TGI Friday's. On this night, however, it was doubly the case. The TGI staff immediately removed young Remo and told the rest of us to leave the premises as well. As we were walking away young Remo begins screaming at us to let him go back inside and to let him fight the waiter that had kicked us out. To make his point, he struck a large light pole in the parking lot. "See that" he said to one of the party goers, indicating a small dent on the light post. "They'll always remember us now. Always." Never mind the fact his hand had puffed up like a marshmallow.

We later found out that it wasn't the actual offense of having been thrown out for his caustic gyrations sans shirt that had truly infuriated him. What he had been doing, when the rest of the party had believed him to be quietly sipping a double long island, was removing all of the goofy shit that hung on the wall behind him and had amassed quite the little collective behind his chair that he had full intentions of stealing. To this day I still don't think that he has quite forgiven TGI Friday Corp.

The party quickly disbanded and young Remo was driven back to his car where, in an act to show all that he was sober enough to drive, he elected to climb over the top of his car and dump himself into it through the sunroof. And to that end he partially succeeded, only he was literally, ass backwards. His hands were down by the pedals, his head was on the seat, his ass was looking out over the steering wheel, the only real negative, as he told me later, is that the Nissan Stanza is built more for economy than comfort and to this end his legs were still jettisoned through the sunroof.

Dell, being soberly minded decided that while the bits and pieces of Remo that made most of his life's decisions were finally in a position to drive a car that this still might not be in the best interest for all those that were on the road and so took Remo's keys. In a further act to prove his sobriety, Remo poured himself out of the car and climbed underneath it to do what any rational man would do: eat dirt.

"The dirt, " the voice from the bottom of the car, was telling Dell, in between mouthfuls, "is to stober me up." Dell pulled young Remo out from underneath the car, dumped him into the passenger side of his car and drove young Remo back to his Mom's house, where he left him to go inside and pass out.

The ensuing morning young Remo picked himself off the linoleum floor of the bathroom. A large challenge when his head had taken on the weight of one thousand planets. Stooped over he walked down the treacherous stairs into the kitchen looking for nothing more than a loaf of bread, V8 and a little hair of the dog.

His mother gasped when she saw him then started laughing uncontrollably. The world was still not making any sense to young Remo so he began to laugh along with her. "What did you do to your hair?" His mom asked, and young Remo felt for his scalp.

As the events have been re-created in many hashings over and using the forensic technology available to us from the evidence that had been left on the bathroom floor, it appears as though young Remo was still of the mind to sober up that evening and finding no other alternative around the spacious house, elicited the help of a hair clippers and the bathroom. Fighting the drunken stupor that he had thrown himself into, it is admirable that he was even able to, though in a bit of a roughshod fashion, clip half of his hair.

And now he is our man on the scene for DVD's. Please, give a warm Bad Mother Coitus welcome to our newest feature writer, my good friend, your favorite: Remo everybody!!!