Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web
According to the popular bar's website, an "Atomic BBQ" of some kind will be featured tonight at the Beachcomber on Quincy Shore Drive in the Wollaston Beach section of the city, causing most residents in the area to face the fact that they have no fucking idea what that means.
"Is there a band called Atomic BBQ or are they talking about food?" asked Neal James, a notorious party animal from Wollaston, known for his constant use of overly-aggressive karate chops. "I certainly hope they're talking about food, they always have the finest meals here. The Beachcomber pizza is amazing. It's got cheese on it, some sauce, a little bit of crust, and thirty-seven spices, each of them more bowel-wrenching than the last. And it's definitely not frozen pizza, not at all. There's just no fucking way. It's always fun seeing how many slices I can take down before those mysterious spices hit me right where it counts and I end up crawling to the bathroom just to find out there's no toilet paper. Then comes the second round of the game, where it's a race against time while I try to make it to my house at about 90mph with no less than twelve beers in me. I can only imagine what the barbecue would do to me. I can't wait."
Others who spoke out on this story seemed blinded by confusion and misunderstanding of the vague event listing. "I must find and harness the atomic power of the Beachcomber," said Jefar Kayik, a small-scale terrorist who is constantly sending Quincy officials VHS tapes full of wacky demands, such as the one we received, which was sent to chief correspondent Brunk Edwards. "The tyrannical rule of Mayor Thomas Koch shall come to an end, and I, like almighty Allah, shall be free." Anxiously adjusting his turban, and, for a moment, exposing to the viewer what appears to be a Misfits shirt, Jefar explained further. "Every day that goes by without me receiving the atomic power will result in the assassination of one Quincy resident. I shall cut off their heads, and I shall tear the flesh from the bone. Demon I am and face I peel, all praise the almighty Allah."
Those who are familiar with the Beachcomber, however, seemed uninterested in the upcoming festivities, telling tales of overpriced cigarettes, ridiculous ATM charges, bathroom vending machines that sell glow-in-the-dark cock rings, and the misleading sales tactics of their jello shot girls. "They're so deceiving," said Neal Diamondz, a hard-as-nails rap artist from Hospital Hill. "Those jello shot girls always make me think that they want to be my girl, and that I got something lined up for after closing, but then, after the last shot of the night, they're nowhere to be found. I don't know if they're just sociopathic bitches, or maybe they're taking off with some other dude, but, either way, it never ends up being me. Whatever though, they can go fuck those dudes, I don't care. It don't matter, I ain't even trying to fuck these hoes. More than anything, I just want some free jello shots. There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when you have hard liquor sliding down your throat in solid form, especially when it's making it's way through your esophagus at the speed of a slug. Anyway, fuck the Beachcomber. Didn't that place have a night called Dinkstock a few months back? What was that, like, a gay night, or something?"
As to the exact plans for the evening, employees of the Beachcomber were unable to respond, as they are known for working the "banker's hours" of 12:00PM to 1:00AM, and are most likely still passed out in the pile of drugs and sweat. For those who are brave enough to find out on their own, the event is rumored to begin sometime around 9:00PM, and is bound be full of thrilling surprises, no matter which direction it takes. "As a scientist, I would advise all attendees of said barbecue to wear some form of a radiation protector on their crotch," said Matty Hammers, a well respected scientist who once lived on Pearl Street in South Quincy. "Anybody who has a crotch, and more importantly, anyone who has a reproductive system they plan on possibly using someday, should know that I'm being dead serious about this. Science is no laughing matter, and atomic power isn't always as hilarious as it seems. It actually kills people, believe it, or not. And to be honest, it turns testicles into something so ridiculous looking that I can already tell I'm not going to be ordering lunch today, just from thinking about it. Seriously, do a Google image search on it someday, it's fucking disgusting."
According to the popular bar's website, an "Atomic BBQ" of some kind will be featured tonight at the Beachcomber on Quincy Shore Drive in the Wollaston Beach section of the city, causing most residents in the area to face the fact that they have no fucking idea what that means.
"Is there a band called Atomic BBQ or are they talking about food?" asked Neal James, a notorious party animal from Wollaston, known for his constant use of overly-aggressive karate chops. "I certainly hope they're talking about food, they always have the finest meals here. The Beachcomber pizza is amazing. It's got cheese on it, some sauce, a little bit of crust, and thirty-seven spices, each of them more bowel-wrenching than the last. And it's definitely not frozen pizza, not at all. There's just no fucking way. It's always fun seeing how many slices I can take down before those mysterious spices hit me right where it counts and I end up crawling to the bathroom just to find out there's no toilet paper. Then comes the second round of the game, where it's a race against time while I try to make it to my house at about 90mph with no less than twelve beers in me. I can only imagine what the barbecue would do to me. I can't wait."
Others who spoke out on this story seemed blinded by confusion and misunderstanding of the vague event listing. "I must find and harness the atomic power of the Beachcomber," said Jefar Kayik, a small-scale terrorist who is constantly sending Quincy officials VHS tapes full of wacky demands, such as the one we received, which was sent to chief correspondent Brunk Edwards. "The tyrannical rule of Mayor Thomas Koch shall come to an end, and I, like almighty Allah, shall be free." Anxiously adjusting his turban, and, for a moment, exposing to the viewer what appears to be a Misfits shirt, Jefar explained further. "Every day that goes by without me receiving the atomic power will result in the assassination of one Quincy resident. I shall cut off their heads, and I shall tear the flesh from the bone. Demon I am and face I peel, all praise the almighty Allah."
Those who are familiar with the Beachcomber, however, seemed uninterested in the upcoming festivities, telling tales of overpriced cigarettes, ridiculous ATM charges, bathroom vending machines that sell glow-in-the-dark cock rings, and the misleading sales tactics of their jello shot girls. "They're so deceiving," said Neal Diamondz, a hard-as-nails rap artist from Hospital Hill. "Those jello shot girls always make me think that they want to be my girl, and that I got something lined up for after closing, but then, after the last shot of the night, they're nowhere to be found. I don't know if they're just sociopathic bitches, or maybe they're taking off with some other dude, but, either way, it never ends up being me. Whatever though, they can go fuck those dudes, I don't care. It don't matter, I ain't even trying to fuck these hoes. More than anything, I just want some free jello shots. There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when you have hard liquor sliding down your throat in solid form, especially when it's making it's way through your esophagus at the speed of a slug. Anyway, fuck the Beachcomber. Didn't that place have a night called Dinkstock a few months back? What was that, like, a gay night, or something?"
As to the exact plans for the evening, employees of the Beachcomber were unable to respond, as they are known for working the "banker's hours" of 12:00PM to 1:00AM, and are most likely still passed out in the pile of drugs and sweat. For those who are brave enough to find out on their own, the event is rumored to begin sometime around 9:00PM, and is bound be full of thrilling surprises, no matter which direction it takes. "As a scientist, I would advise all attendees of said barbecue to wear some form of a radiation protector on their crotch," said Matty Hammers, a well respected scientist who once lived on Pearl Street in South Quincy. "Anybody who has a crotch, and more importantly, anyone who has a reproductive system they plan on possibly using someday, should know that I'm being dead serious about this. Science is no laughing matter, and atomic power isn't always as hilarious as it seems. It actually kills people, believe it, or not. And to be honest, it turns testicles into something so ridiculous looking that I can already tell I'm not going to be ordering lunch today, just from thinking about it. Seriously, do a Google image search on it someday, it's fucking disgusting."
6 comments:
The Combers a classic-if I didn't have plans I'd go tonight just to see what it's about-I love BBQ-
Well, you're an early riser! That certainly narrows it down a bit.
There will be many karate chops tonight.
Dinkstock sure was a gay affair!
Hey-slow times in Quincy? Don't stop writing because you hit 51--
or did the times buy you out?
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