We drank here for a while because we thought it said, "Cock and Ball Pub." It was a cool place.
Me and Harry are outside having a cigarette on Sunday, trying in vain to dodge the frigid Canadian wind.
"Hey, you know those guys we fought with?" he says.
"Yea."
"They were from fuckin Jersey. Chud knows a couple of them."
I'm incredulous. "Get the fuck out of here."
"Nope."
As a lesson to the rest of the country, if guys from New Jersey bear down on your humble city, just stay out of our way. Eventually we'll find other dipshits from Jersey to fight anyway.
He laughs a little, like he always does when he remembers something that he thinks is amusing.
"I was outside having a cigarette last night, and this bouncer was standing out there. I told him, 'You know, I don't respect Canadian authority.' He gave me this confused look and was like, 'What?'. I told him again. 'I don't respect you guys. You know. You. The cops. Your government. I don't care.' Then I put my cigarette and walked back inside. He didn't know what to say. I wanted to let'em know where they stand, you know?"
"I'm sure he was glad you told him."
"Fucking Canadians."
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