Tuddlesworth: Gentleman of Action

By Tuddlesworth May 16, 2011 25 Comments

Hello, good sirs! I would like to share a tale. A tale of gentlemanly epic proportions. The true identities of all persons-- gentlemanly and not so gentlemanly-- will not be revealed through the course of this tale. It is a bit on the lengthy side, but I implore you to read on. With that said, please do enjoy...




A friend of mine, Mike, was dumped by his girlfriend. This young lady wasn't very fond of the idea of her lady parts being exclusive to one fellow; what I'm trying to say is, this trick opened her legs up like a soup kitchen on Christmas Eve. Mike, being the hopeless romantic he is, was in a rut for quite some time. It was painful watching a good friend slowly crumble into a proverbial wreck. 

Another friend of mine, Elliot, decided to step in and help rebuild our heart-crushed comrade. The plan was simple, take Mike alcohol and women. Elliot believes that alcohol and loose dames are the answer to all of life's paradoxes. This alcoholic philosophy coupled with a short temper makes Elliot a living, breathing time bomb. Don't get me wrong, Elliot is an awesomely dapper fellow, but the Ol' Liquid Mistress seduces him into god-stomping anything with a pulse and a full set of functional limbs. After an hour or so of ingesting Elliot's empty reassurances, I decide to assist with Operation Help Our Lost Puppy Of A Friend Find His Testicles (O.H.O.L.P.O.A.F.F.H.T. for short)

Night falls and the three of us find a reasonable bar with plenty of women on the prowl. It didn't take long for Mike to cheer up a little and Elliot showed no signs of a meltdown. After an hour of caution, I finally downgrade my alert level and have a few drinks. Mike spots a group of eying us, so we make out way over in their direction. It was good to see Mike cast aside his emptiness and fill that void with copious amounts of alcohol and unsung promises of coitus activities.

Somewhere between the heavenly brew and the sight of barely-concealed cleavage, complacency got the best of me; I hear the growl of an awakened beast. Though the origin of the growl was 10 feet away, I could feel his hot breath escape his lungs. Hell, I could've sworn that the ice in my whiskey disintegrated instantly. Gentleman Elliot let Fisticuff Elliot out of his padded cell. I--with Mike a few paces behind--rushed to the Beast's side. A gentleman need not a watch to know the current time; it's a quarter past bloodied ruffians.

Before I can form the words, Elliot directs me to place grotesque objects down my windpipe. I can tell that Elliot is drunk; he downed a lot of drinks during my brief state of complacency. Being the defiant bastard I am I replied, "I told you." In hindsight, I realize just how lame it was to say those words, but I found it quite amusing (by the way, I was slightly tipsy). Apparently Elliot was angered by some fellow claiming that Bert and Ernie are members of a special social club. The reason why this was a devastating blow to Elliot is because he enjoys watching Sesame Street whilst in his happy drunken state. I suppose young Elliot wasn't prepared to come to grips with something so... obvious?


Here is what was said; (By the way, Elliot has a difficult time coming up with good comebacks when under the influence.)

Some Fellow: Dude, deal with it. You're a chump for watching that shit anyway.

Elliot: Well, yeah, buddy. But how about I punch you?

Some Fellow: Do it and I will fuck you up. No kidding.

Elliot: Alright, fuck me then, chief. Fuck. Me. (His eyes go wild and he pounds on his chest. He doesn't realize how gay he sounds demanding this guy to fuck him)


Mike: Elliot, no one is fucking anyone tonight. Thanks to you.


Tuddlesworth: Let's just get out of here and find another bar, no one wants to watch you hurt this guy.


Elliot: Okay, we'll leave... right after I take this fucker to Cherry Town!


Mike: What the fuck is Cherry To-

Before Mike can finish his inquiry, Elliot punches Some Fellow with the form of a seasoned pugilist. I am completely certain that the recipient of this punch had a flashback of when he was but a tiny sperm in his life-giver's testicles. The sound of knuckle to face is so fresh in my memory, as if it were thrown at me. Some Fellow stumbled, but wasn't finished just yet; he responded with a less awe-inspiring punch. And so, the great Sesame Street Skirmish began. Lesser battles were over small stuff like religion or politics; the real warriors fight over the sexuality of 40-year-old puppets.




Elliot was winning the fight, so some random guy steps out of the crowd, readying a punch aimed at my colleague. Something took a hold of me that very moment. I wasn't going to allow this ruffian to cheat. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the Deadly Top Hat Slugger. I let loose a punch aimed at the back of the cheater's head, but I'm so pumped up that I grazed the back of his ear. Luckily, Mike was there to tackle McCheaty Pants before he knew what hit him. 

After Some Fellow decides that the floor is a nice place to curl in a ball and reflect on life, the three of us make a quick exit. We never found out where Cherry Town was located.


-Tuddlesworth

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