Get 2 Choppin

Last night poor John E. Bravo got an early Christmas present from fellow legends Wham Dickham and K.C. the Sunshine Man, it was a nicely wrapped Zing in a box. It started out innocent enough with the simple acceptance of an offer of a ride to watch them play hockey with the rest of the boys. With nothing else to do and the roads kind of shitty,  I took them up on their generous Christmas-like behavior to become the lone photographer at this prestigious event.

The three of us decided to stop at Roger’s Roost to see John E. Bravo’s step-niece, Jessica. Wham and K.C. both ordered their typical pre-game diet cokes, while John E. Bravo decided to have a cold adult beverage since he wasn’t driving and it was the holidays. This opened the floodgates. The hockey game was an hour away but Wham and K.C. were already firing shots at John E. Bravo like he was a goaltender facing the Red wings.

John E. Bravo brushed aside the triple sip shot of tequila like he was a brand new border guard out to prove a point and earn his stripes. The Three Wise men were looking for that number one star of the night and were knocking on the doorstep but Bravo turned them away from his little manger scene. The three Butter-crown linemates got royally screwed when one by one Bravo put them in his gullet guillotine. There was only a few ticks left on the clock when Bravo disarmed the Irish car bomb to keep the shot-out alive.     

After that barrage it was off to the rink to cheer the boys on. A quick stop was in order because it was obviously necessary to pick up a case of krauts to keep the camera guy properly hydrated. 

The final buzzer had sounded and the slap shot shanghai had come to a close and after getting dropped off by the co-conspirators, I set about to alert the media of the egregious and felonious nature of these shanghai shenanigans perpetrated against me. This led me to sending mass texts to a large portion of the people in my phonebook. I apologize in advance for the late nature of the text and the apparent obscure meaning behind it. If you got the text, “I swear to God, Herb”, “Why do you play college hockey?” or “He stole the ring right off my finger” and lastly, “Whose side you on anyway”, it wasn’t because I was a bitter Betty or a deranged Darcy. I was just quoting lines from the movie Miracle.  Don’t hate me; it’s just that us goalies get a little loose in the noggin after taking so many shots in our career if you know what I mean. 

Don’t worry, it won’t stop me from lacing up my galvanized go-getters and getting back on the ice for another game of shuck the puck, empty net syndrome, brush away the black biscuit, thou shall not covet the crease, get me a new light bulb cause this lamp ain’t shining, etc., etc. 

When I first heard the idea of “The get of the got”,  I am not going to lie I was a little confused by it, but the more that I let it simmer in my cranial caldron and let it roll off my tongue the more I came to understand it.

Let me first give credit where credit is due. The get of the got was Wham Bam Diddly Dam’s idea after pulling off the zing of all weekend zings. It is similar to the same inter-connected relationship you would see with the Ying and the Yang, and the Zing and the Zang; the get and the got flow together like the two great rivers of China, the Yangtzee and the Yahtzee.

Unfortunately, names have been changed to protect the individuals involved, but it was Jay “I got the Blues cause I didn’t see the Clues” who was the one that was the “got” while it was Wham Dickham with some encouragement from the peanut gallery that put the “get” in the get of the got. He pulled this off like a wax strip on his girlfriends shin, it was fast and painless; for him that is.

The set up for the “get” couldn’t have occurred any better. The night was going pretty smoothly and the snocktails for Jay and Wham were going down like a broken elevator full of fat people, when in walked a blast from the past for good old Jay, “I got the blues cause I didn’t see the clues.” He wasn’t sure if she had seen him and he was a little nervous to go talk to her (he is a shy guy sometimes) so he walked away from the group.

Wham, loaded with the girl’s name and a half dozen snocktails, yelled across the bar, “Hey don’t I know you. Isn’t your name ______? Aren’t you friends with Jay? Didn’t you see him when you walked in? Hold on a second. Where is Jay guys? Oh here he is over at this other table of people we don’t really hang out with. Hey Jay, Hey Jay! Guess who is here? You will never guess who is here, okay I will tell you. It is ______!

Well we all know how shy Jay can be, but thanks to Wham’s action as tugboat captain, he pulled Jay into the harbor of love and docked him right next to that lady in question. Your Welcome, Jay. Zing

Knock… Knock…

Who’s there?

Bee

Bee who?

Bee there tomorrow boys.

Knock… Knock… 

Who’s there?

Comma

Comma Who?

Comma pick me up I’m at the airport guys.

Knock… Knock…

Who’s there?

Gimme

Gimme who?

Gimme a hug I missed you.

The previous post regrading bingo, bango, bongo talked about zinging a legend and the rules that apply to that situation, but what you may not understand is, what is a zing?

It is the burn of all burns, the setup of all setups. The shenanigans of all shenanigans. When you have been zinged, especially a good zing, you just have to sit back and shake your head as you appreciate the zing like it is a 12 year old bottle of Scotch and say, “Damn son. Good work”.

Last night was a prime example of what could be the zing of all zings. The numero uno zing. It was the Babe Ruth zinger dinger of zings. It had the Spice girls getting back together for a reunion just so they could say, “Zing a zing ah”.

It was like the Super Bowl of zings because it involved numerous players on both sides of the zing. It was the type of zing that if it was a seven layered bean dip it would have extra gaucamole for that added zing. The main players were K.C. the sunshine man and Wham Dickham. They must have been swimming at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean looking for a new species of Zings because they went to extraordinary depths to pull this one off.

This is how it played out. K.C. the sunshine man doesn’t drink (never had and never will because he has acute alcohol toxicity of the lymph nodes that could cause him to die from ingesting any minute quantity of booze) but the two conspired with the help of the bar staff to make it appear like he was drinking the deadliest concoctions of his life. Get out the pen and paper, he was about to go Heath Ledger on us. The first drink was what appeared to be a lemon drop shot. The mixture was warm water and lemonade with salt so that he would have that bitter look on his face. The hook was in the water.

The next shot was a prairie fire which was made with lemonade and tabasco sauce. They went all out. You want a real zing, you have to pay the high cost of zinginess. The madness ensued with Bellows whining like a little girl, “Seriously he shouldn’t drink anymore, he might die. Don’t drink that K.C.” At this point the fish was on the hook and it was time to reel him in.

The bartender next created a chocolate martini that K.C. devoured as if he was a diabetic with a death wish. The next drink was the fake Bells Oberon, orange juice and lemonade. Ingenious. Bellows was now flopping around on the ground like the proverbial fish out of water.

Finally the gig was up. The truth comes out. The zing was echoing across the chasm of the grand canyon that is Bellows intellect, “You have been zinged … zinged … zinged … zinged … zinged.” Interestingly enough this was almost in violation of the rule that you cannot attempt to zing another legend while consorting with a non-legend, but what it was in fact was a testament to the un-zing-ability of a legend. John E. Bravo quickly caught on and was in fact gently brought into the fold and was reassured that his high resolution zing radar was working in tip top shape.

He in fact pulled a minor zing on his buddy, Johnny Blue, by telling him to meet them at the wrong bar. Classic zing. Sorry Bobby Knight of the Junior Varsity, I hope you didn’t throw a chair when you got to triple c’s and learned that you had been zinged.

 So if you have a zing idea or have been zinged or in fact zinged someone your self drop us a comment. I would love to hear about it.

P.S. I really don’t want to hear about. You have just been zinged.