Moose Nuts, Goat Cunt - it doesn't matter what you call it, we've all enjoyed many a drunken night there. In a town where decent bars can be hard to find, Moose Nuts offered a safe zone, void of pretension. It was a beacon of hope in a sea of chads, hipsters, skanks, and phoneys.
We had some massive nights...
We were there from the beginning. We played darts there; we broke darts there. We hammered nails into logs there. We've taken upside-down shots on the wooden rack there. We've danced there. We can spot the owner most nights and we can get drinks at a reasonable speed. We showed up at eleven to beat the midnight rush. We drank, we laughed, and we came together in that hot, soft light.
Moose Nuts was our bar.
The times, they are a-changin'...
All members of the party last night, I think, would agree that Moose Nuts has lost some of its initial charm. Polos with product and skanked out sluts in spikes have invaded our once beloved bar. Twats trying to pass us in line. Twelve year olds passing back fakes.
What has happened to our haven? Has it really changed that much?
Or could it be, that we have changed?
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1 comment:
i got really excited about this when i read it last night. no diggity.
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