You wouldn't believe the mileage I'm getting out of this dog fight story. Depending on my mood I vacillate between the knocked to the floor by a beer bottle wielding, drunk, hooker story and the dog fight story. Invariably people express more incredulity towards the mistaken identity story than the dog fight story. It's actually quite amazing. No one at all believes I have a black eye because I slipped in my kitchen and hit my head on a countertop as I fell. The truth is simply impossible for anyone to consider plausible. In my opinion the next most realistic story, that I was clocked upside the head at a bar by a drunken girl in a case of mistaken identity is coincidentally the second least plausible reason for me to have a black eye going by the reactions I've received from people who have heard the tale. The dog fight story, however, has gained 100% acceptance. In fact, most people upon hearing the dog fight story remark along the lines of, "wow, great story man, it's almost worth the black eye for that!" Remarkable. The story has evolved a bit from my previous post; I've added a few details here and there to flesh it out. Now, the story goes something like this:
I ran into Crackhead Carry on Sunday afternoon and he told me about this dog fight that was going down a few blocks away later in the evening. (Crackhead Carry used to mow my lawn but now picks up beer cans after parties) Not having anything better to do and never having seen a dog fight I decided to attend. There were several fights before the main event, the place was packed with around 100 drunk, screaming Mexicans, and free Lone Stars were being passed around the audience. The main event was a face off between the grand champion Mastiff and an up and coming Pit Bull. I find out through the use of my broken Spanish that the grand champion had only reigned in that position for three weeks but that was a long time in the dog fight circuit. When the dogs are let loose and they attack each other it's a lot like watching Ultimate Fighting Championship, the two fighters charge each other and it's exciting for the first 30 seconds then someone gets a good choke hold on (the Pit Bull in this case) and then it's just a slow, drawn out ending. However, unlike UFC, when the Pit Bull downed the reigning champion there was a deafening roar from the crowd and the owner of the Pit Bull ran into the fighting pit holding a machete aloft. With the crowd in a frenzy the machete wielding owner hacked the head off of the now defeated Mastiff and held it up in the air for everyone to see. Finally, in what I can only assume is standard for a championship fight the owner heaved the Mastiff's head into the crowd where it struck me above my left eye and knocked me to the ground. I was covered in blood as the cheering crowd pulled me up off the ground; they were patting me on the back, and screaming in delight. The head of the Mastiff is in my freezer at home, a trophy for the best black eye ever.
"Wow, great story man, its almost worth the black eye for that!"
Seriously, what part of that story sounds remotely legitimate? The only part that has any truth to it at all is that Crackhead Carry used to mow my lawn and there was a night when he asked if he could pick up cans out of the trashcan after a party. Obviously there's something to this, I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something. How is it that the more unbelievable the story becomes the easier it becomes for people to believe. Its kind of like Hitler's Big Lie theory where a little lie is laughed at but a Big Lie somehow takes on a reality of its own, through its sheer effrontery. That, or people have just seen too many movies where a battered wife turns to "I slipped down the stairs" or "I slipped and hit my head" as an excuse for their blackened eyes and actually falling down and hurting oneself is no longer a plausible explanation for injury (at least not of the black eye variety). I don't really care whether the deeper psychological explanation is the reality of it or that television has finally numbed America to the point they can't believe anything but the audacious, the dog fight story is so utterly ludicrous I've almost grown tired of telling it to people because it makes me hate them when they don't question its validity. I mean come on, passing out free Lone Stars?!
I ran into Crackhead Carry on Sunday afternoon and he told me about this dog fight that was going down a few blocks away later in the evening. (Crackhead Carry used to mow my lawn but now picks up beer cans after parties) Not having anything better to do and never having seen a dog fight I decided to attend. There were several fights before the main event, the place was packed with around 100 drunk, screaming Mexicans, and free Lone Stars were being passed around the audience. The main event was a face off between the grand champion Mastiff and an up and coming Pit Bull. I find out through the use of my broken Spanish that the grand champion had only reigned in that position for three weeks but that was a long time in the dog fight circuit. When the dogs are let loose and they attack each other it's a lot like watching Ultimate Fighting Championship, the two fighters charge each other and it's exciting for the first 30 seconds then someone gets a good choke hold on (the Pit Bull in this case) and then it's just a slow, drawn out ending. However, unlike UFC, when the Pit Bull downed the reigning champion there was a deafening roar from the crowd and the owner of the Pit Bull ran into the fighting pit holding a machete aloft. With the crowd in a frenzy the machete wielding owner hacked the head off of the now defeated Mastiff and held it up in the air for everyone to see. Finally, in what I can only assume is standard for a championship fight the owner heaved the Mastiff's head into the crowd where it struck me above my left eye and knocked me to the ground. I was covered in blood as the cheering crowd pulled me up off the ground; they were patting me on the back, and screaming in delight. The head of the Mastiff is in my freezer at home, a trophy for the best black eye ever.
"Wow, great story man, its almost worth the black eye for that!"
Seriously, what part of that story sounds remotely legitimate? The only part that has any truth to it at all is that Crackhead Carry used to mow my lawn and there was a night when he asked if he could pick up cans out of the trashcan after a party. Obviously there's something to this, I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something. How is it that the more unbelievable the story becomes the easier it becomes for people to believe. Its kind of like Hitler's Big Lie theory where a little lie is laughed at but a Big Lie somehow takes on a reality of its own, through its sheer effrontery. That, or people have just seen too many movies where a battered wife turns to "I slipped down the stairs" or "I slipped and hit my head" as an excuse for their blackened eyes and actually falling down and hurting oneself is no longer a plausible explanation for injury (at least not of the black eye variety). I don't really care whether the deeper psychological explanation is the reality of it or that television has finally numbed America to the point they can't believe anything but the audacious, the dog fight story is so utterly ludicrous I've almost grown tired of telling it to people because it makes me hate them when they don't question its validity. I mean come on, passing out free Lone Stars?!
