(Fiction pt 1) Mikey Wonkapoo and the Indie Rock Factory...

A note: a wonkapoo is a slang term for a white belt and makeup wearing, girl pantsed indie kid. This term was coined by Jay Wilson's pal Lee... I have respectfully ganked it.

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So last night me and the boys went down to the Border to have a drink. Explaining the Border always pisses me off, so I'll make this quick. The Border Cafe was once a very cool bar out toward the University. It was bizarre, because it had an odd mix of dishes from Wisconsin (lotsa cheese) and from Texas (lotsa spice). Anyway, I ate many meals and drank many beers there with my brother and our friends. Some bozo came along in the late 90's/early ought's and decided that it needed to be a martini bar instead.

After the miserable failure of that plan, the bar sort of reverted to an upscale bastardized version of what it once was, and while it is merely a shadow of it's former self, it is the best we have, and therefore we still drink there. Of course, the first hour of every visit is split between regaling each other with fond rememberances of the place we once loved and bitching bitterly about what it has become.

"God DAMN this place sucks"

"Drink your beer, Ry... you want a shot?"

"Will it somehow transport me back to 1994?"

"If I throw a Pavement record on, it will."

"Right, cause these tools are going to let you put in your choice of music. This ain't the Border, man, it's the BAWDAH"

"Do you want the fucking shot?"

"Sure, make it a Jager. A double."

"You paying?"

"HELL no."

"Right then, well whiskey"

Of course, I bought him the Jager. I always do, as he never fails to buy for me. So it was me, Ryan, Bender, Jay, Joe, and Christine. Ah, the perfect recipe for trouble. The breakdown is like this... Ryan is my brother, we are exactly alike. We speak twinspeak. Nobody gets us, but DAMN, we're funny. Bender is a goofy guy from the next town over that we keep around largely for comedy relief. Joe is an oddball, kind of an elder statesman punk rock version of Merle Haggard. Largely quiet, when he says something, it is usually either the most comedic or most poignant thing that you have ever heard. Jay is miserable bastard with an ill temper and a quick wit that we keep around because he hates Bender. It creates fun. Finally, Christine. Christine is my ex-wife. Sometime I'll tell that story, but not today.

"Brooks, are you going to the Animoanian show next week?"

"Bender, is that you? You don't even LISTEN to music."

"Dude, when did you become a Wonkapoo"

"Where's yer white belt?

"Kind of fat for girly pants, you want I should order you a Mick Ultra?"

"Shut the fuck up... my girlfriend burned me a comp."

"Your girlfriend. You mean that girl you met on MySpace? You ever actually TALK to her?

"Dude you just started IM'ing her, like last week. Now she's yer GIRLFRIEND?"

"Maaaaaaaaan. Could you guys stop with the cyber jargon... it's like I stepped into an episode of Geek Trek."

Joe, you see, is firmly entrenched in the 20th century. Not exactly computer illiterate, he still sees them as foreign objects with potential for causing grave harm to either himself , mankind, or both. He has learned to use the net to pick up all of the pertinent sports radio shows broadcast across America, however.

"Joe, the guy is dating a series of 0's and 1's."

"Beats the hell out of most of the bar tramps YOU chase around."

"HEY!"

"Hell, Chris, he divorced you 10 years ago, you're old news on the bar tramp circuit."

"HEY!"

"I'm beginning to see why, too... terrible vocabulary."

"This from the guy who's last date was around the time of Brooks' divorce."

"Shh... he's sitting right there."

There's this running joke that Joe caused mine and Christine's divorce. Utterly untrue (I think) but nonetheless disturbing, which is why Jay never fails to mention it. Jay is currently banging Christine, he thinks the Joe joke somehow distracts me from this fact. In all actuality, I've known since before it happened, Christine tells me everything. Sometimes I wish she wouldn't.

"So, Brooks, you cuckolded bastard... the show, you going?

"Which show was that?"

"Anamoananon"

"What?"

"Anomanoan, you deaf fuck."

"I'm not deaf, I just like to hear you struggle with the name. It's Anomoanon, Bender. I don't pay to see bands A) whose names I have to practice regularly or B) who require me to wear a uniform for entrance to the show."

"Elitist."

"Faux-wonkapoo."