Johnny B. Hardcore

“You know why you’re in this predicament at the moment? It’s not my doing; it’s his, Johnny B. Hardcore.”

Eddy looked back at Julian with puzzlement in his eyes, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Julian spit his beer all over Eddy, and dropped his bottle out of shock, “You don’t know who Johnny is? No wonder you’re in this predicament! You know, ignorance is no excuse. You should take the time to stay informed, my friend.”

Eddy brushed some beer off his forehead, “Okay, then. Tell me who Johnny B. Hardcore is. Why would he call himself that, anyway?”

“You have a lot to learn, my friend. He didn’t choose to call himself that; Fate chose the name for him, if we were to personify the abstract concept as a man.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but continue.”

“Johnny B. Hardcore is the ultimate man’s man. He’s, like, six-foot-fucking-one-hundred with lasers for eyes. He’s got fucking...beer kegs for balls, and he doesn’t drink beer. He drinks the tears of the children whose kittens he steps on,” Julian paused. “Hey, what the hell happened to my beer? It’s all smashed on the floor!”

Eddy just sat in silence for a few seconds, and then he said, “Yes, I know. You dropped it when you couldn’t believe I had no idea who Johnny was.”

“Well, this is serious shit, man! I’m still having a hard time processing the information. But, I need another beer. Hey, Larry, send a Pabst on over!”

The Pabst came and Julian took a large swig. He then continued, “Where was I? Oh yeah, fucking Johnny...with his hook for a hand. No wait, he has a fucking crane for an arm. And his stubble is so thick that he can grate cheese on it. I’m pretty sure he invented electricity, beef, and happiness. Since he invented happiness, he can take it away from you just as easily as he can give it out, so you don’t fuck around. And...and...Dude, you have, like, fucking...beer all over you or something.”

Eddy gave Julian a very serious look, but Julian just sat there with the same, confused look on his face. Eddy finally said, “Yes, I know. It’s because you spit beer all over me when I told you I didn’t know who Johnny was.”

“Well, can you blame me? This is fucking important stuff!”

“Okay, well, for the sake of conversation I’ll pretend that Johnny B. Hardcore is a real person. What does any of this have to do with me? You said I’m in a predicament because of him, for some reason.”

“Well, you know, you don’t fuck around where Johnny B. Hardcore’s concerned, so I got to thinking about the people I hang around with. I mean, just look at you, sitting there with your Long Island iced tea, in your Oxford sweater...which is wet, by the way.”

Eddy gave the serious look again, and Julian continued, “I mean, geez, man. Someone spits beer all over you and you don’t even kick his ass! And you don’t even swear. Fuck, real men swear. I just don’t think I can hang around with you anymore if I want to stay cool with Johnny.”

Eddy thought about this for a second, “So, wait, let me get this straight. I didn’t beat you up, and this makes you not want to hang around with me?”

“Well, that among other things. Sorry, dude, don’t take it personally,” Julian paused. “Well, you can take it a bit personally, if you want. I don’t mind. But this is goodbye, my friend.”

Julian chugged the remainder of his beer. He then slammed some money down on the counter of the bar, got up and walked away. Larry, polishing a glass, walked up to Eddy, “What was that all about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He comes up with something like that every time he has a few too many. I’m sure he won’t remember it by tomorrow.”