It pains me that it’s come to this, but here we are…
TWO beef articles from me in as many weeks?
And a week from Christmas to boot!?
It took until yesterday for me to get the full picture, but the ever humble Sunday Monday Tuesday George has been the victim of a damn near 20 YEAR LONG W-I-C-K-E-D ploy by Daw to make me look foolish.
We can’t let that stand.
First of all. W.T.A.F., Daw— how dare you drop such a pristine and immaculate end of year list yesterday?
How dare it be so carefully considered, despite your tireless DEDICATION TO THE GAME, or… you know, giving the youth the truth (#rhymeslikedimes) throughout this pandemic.
There are power moves and then, there are POWER MOVES, and Daw made the latter.
But Daw didn’t do this for selfless reason– he didn’t do it for the better of the Indie Pong community.
He did it to complete his gambit in the interest of making me look like a chump… and it all started back in the summer of 2001…
It was a weekday in the middle of June– everyone had just gotten out of school for the summer, and Daw had come over to my families house to chill with my brother Jack.
Daw asked my mom if they could have some Oreos at like 10 o’clock in the morning, and she absent-mindedly waved them off, saying, “Sure.”
Seeing as how I was in the adjacent room, I took this as the go-ahead for me to get in on this Oreo action too. After he and my brother both took their two measly cookies from the sleeve, I made an older brother power move…
and took five.
Then, in a picture-framable moment of, TEXTBOOK DRY-SNITCHING, pipsqueak Daw piped up,
“Oh, I didn’t know we could have five.”
My mother, whipped her head around quicker than I’ve ever seen, and made me put three cookies back in the sleeve, telling me, “I’d rot my teeth out.”
Threats of physical violence towards Daw were ready to fly out of my mouth, but I played it cool.
Let’s just say, I got the last laugh a few weeks later, when the tubes on Daw’s bike tires *magically* popped in my parent’s garage, and he had to walk from my families house, all the way back to Northwest Evanston, because no one in his family could give him a ride.
IN THE RAIN.
That’s a clean 44 minute walk, according to Google Maps— probably, more like an hour and a half, for a grade schooler.
In any case, I thought it would give Daw AMPLE time to reflect on his trespasses, and put some respect on my name.
Little did I know, it would lead to something else completely… something he saved for 2020.
Part 1 came to fruition in January or February, just before the pandemic hit.
Daw came into lunch at the restaurant I was working at, all smiles and laughs.
Then, he orders a beer.
Actually, let me correct myself, he TRIED to order a beer— five different ones, all of which, we didn’t currently have in stock.
As I’m furiously rushing back and forth to their table, trying to get Daw a beer, I start thinking to myself…
“5 beers… 5 beers, because I tried to take 5 Oreos?!”
On the sixth try, he finally ordered something we had in stock, and laughed when I brought it to him saying, “might want to update your menu.”
As he and his Dad ate and drank, I stood at the server’s station, my mind boggled…
“Is Daw out here playing this like, INSANE 5-D chess game?”
“Is this a MASTERCLASS in pettiness, known unto no one but Daw himself?
I was prepared to let it go, until upon leaving, Daw walked up to the bartender, slid him a 20 and said, “thanks for your help.”
This bartender’s parents live 4 blocks away from Daw’s parents.
It could ONLY mean that they were in cahoots– Daw contacted him before-hand, got the low-down on what wasn’t in stock, and ordered ALL OF IT, just to fuck with me.
Anyways, yesterday, Daw *tried* to put the nail in the coffin.
He dropped his year-end list… trying to knock me from the top of the perch, as my top songs of 2020 are OBVIOUSLY, better than anyone else’s.
And you know what?
That little shit did it… for now.
You see, #teamPetty has two captains…
Me, and Cam’Ron.
Daw’s trying to muscle in on our operation, and we all know how Cam’ron feels about Oreo snitches like Daw.
Daw’s win ratio is currently, looking better than mine, but we all know how this goes…
All I’m saying is… things might not go over so well next time Daw tries to get another, “indie,” tattoo to further solidify his, “indie,” cred.
Hope you’re up on your tetanus shots Daw— gonna be hard for you to talk that shit if you’ve got a mean case of lockjaw, punk.