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Originally Posted by parkerskouson
But if there were two gunmen....
As a former infantryman I can assure you that I could carry 30 M16/AR15 mags, fully loaded with ball ammo, not blanks, and still do quite a bit of running and jumping, dodging and ducking. Thats what the bellows pockets on the trousers were for. Probably couldnt run around the house like that now.
Thirty or so years ago one of the business agents in the ironworker's local I belonged to was a rough customer. Known for being brutal in a fight and he would fight at the drop of a hat ..... and he would drop the hat. He and another brother ironworker went into a bar in Davie, Florida. It was a "cowboy" bar and known for fights and shooting and cutting scrapes. On this particular day there was a big fellow at the bar betting a dollar per person that they couldn't double him over with their best punch to his stomach.Quote:
Originally Posted by Wullie
So after he watched a few guys take their best shot he walked up to this fellow and said, " How about me buddy ?" The big blustering hardcase said,"Well how about you .... you #**#!!" So Howard put his dollar on the bar and asked the fellow if he was ready. The big fellow was all flexed and puffed up, waiting for the punch to the stomach, and nodded and grunted that he was ready.
Howard came up from the floor and hit him with a left hook to the jaw. That big fellow went down like he was a pole axed steer. Howard picked the two dollars up off of the bar and he and the other ironworker high tailed it to parts unknown to have a drink and laugh about the experience. True story BTW.
I had a buddy like that. Tougher than wet leather he was. His name was Kenneth. He died a bout 10 years ago. Anyway, Kenneth was shooting 9 ball with some clown in the littel bar across from the truck out at Road Forks, NM. Kenneth was winning handily. Kenneth won the 4th or 5th game and turned away from the table for something or other. When he turned back to the table, the guy he'd been playing smacked him across the forehead with his cue stick. The stick broke, Kenneth shook his head, looked right straight at the guy that had swung it and said, "Guess it's my shot now." just as cool, calm, and collected as you could imagine.Quote:
Originally Posted by JimmyHAD
The old boy that swung the stick, blinked in wide eyed amazement at Kenneth. Kenneth grinned and brought an uppercut from about ankle high into that clown's jaw. It sounded like he hit him with a 2x4. He went down
like a tree, The back of his head hit that wood floor and I figured his neck was broke. He was still breathing and twitching though. The place got quiet as a church and the owner walked around the end of the bar, handed Kenneth a beer and proceeded to drag the punk feet first out the door and down 4 steps with his head banging every step. He dragged him out of the path and left him there. He walked back in and simply said,"the sumbitch had that one coming I reckon."
The guy had apparently come to by the time Kenneth and I decided we'd had enough and went back to our trucks to sleep off our fun. He was gone when we left.
Weren't too many dull moments when Kenneth was around.
So that's why Uncle Al's Bar, down the street here in Davie, has a sign outside, over the door, that says, "Ironworkers Not Welcome!"Quote:
Originally Posted by JimmyHAD
He'd keep putting the massacre off until another day.Quote:
Originally Posted by nun2sharp