With Leather Book Club: Tank Abbott’s ‘Befor There Were Rules: Bar Brawler’ Part 7

12.18.12 5 years ago 24 Comments
Tank Abbott jail

Ed. note – Jessica ‘Lobster Mobster’ Hudnall’s SparkNotes review of Tank Abbott’s literary debut, Befor There Were Rules, A Trilogy By #1 MMA Cagefighting Legend David “Tank” Abbott, Book One, Bar Brawler, A Novel, continues. Here’s what you should’ve read already:

Part 1 – Foreword, Prologue, Chapter 1 | Part 2 – Chapters 2-4 | Part 3 – Chapters 5-7 | Part 4 – Chapters 8-10 | Part 5 – Chapters 11-13 | Part 6 – Chapters 14-16

In today’s installment, featuring chapters 17-19: mud wrestling. Also, the exciting world of court appeals! Enjoy.

Chapter Seventeen – Mud, Guts and Beer:

Walter’s pretty pissed about getting 6 months for smashing a dude’s face into a jelly, so he starts drinking the second he gets home (Though I’m sure he would be drinking if he was found not guilty on all charges). He wants some company the more he gets buzzed, so Walter calls up Gonzo, and they start driving around, replenishing their beers along the way. They end up at a seedy bar called Sugar’s, when they spot Big Cal. Big Cal’s another friend, so Walter and Gonzo head over to play some pool with him.

Cal’s opponent isn’t too happy about getting shut out, so of course Walter starts getting hot under the collar. Cal and Gonzo manage to keep things civil, and the three play a few games of pool while getting completely hammered. They eventually abandon the game to chat at a table. The conversation moves to wrestling, as Cal wrestled in high school, Walt and Gonzo were on the same junior college team, and Gonzo is an All-American (American). Talking about wrestling leads to Cal and Gonzo wanting to just wrestle each other, so they head outside to a muddy, gravel-filled back lot and get ready to grapple.

Despite having 50 pounds and an incredible amount of experience on him, Gonzo is too drunk to take down Cal. Cal manages to throw Gonzo to the mud a couple times, and Gonzo decides he’s too drunk to keep wrestling. Walt’s game, though, and he gets three quick takedowns on Cal (Of course he’s the best at it!). Everyone’s got the wrestling out of their systems, so they all head to their separate homes to pass out (But only Walter’s lucky enough to pass out snuggling with Hitler-Dawg).

Walter gets up, goes for a quick boxing session, then it’s to the liquor store to re-stock his booze rations. He chats with some people about how badly he got screwed over by the justice system (More like IN-justice system, am I right?), then heads home to drink beer and hang out with Adolf. The phone rings, and it’s Trike, the guy that hired Walt at the liquor store. Trike heads over to pick up Walt, and they go for a drive, where Trike says he’s leaving in a month to take a trip to Germany. Then Walter and Trike hatch a plan for Trike to beat up Jerome La Mentiroso while Walt’s doing his six month stretch.

Fight Stats:

Did Walter fight? No, just mud wrestled with Big Cal

Key lines: “A guy named Big Cal is at one of the smoky pool tables, swinging his cue stick around like he’s the conductor of an orchestra for dirtbag bar idiots.”

Yet you chose to patronize this establishment, Walter, so what does that say about you?

“After the day I’ve had I will stomp anyone who disrespects me flatter than a pancake.”

That’s what got you six months, you doofus! I hate you so much, Walter Foxx.

“Gonzo is bent over with both hands on his knees, a technique used in wrestling when you need to get air.”

Hey, I know a wrestling technique!

“I have a full-throttle buzz going and am speaking Drunkenese, trying to get the bartender to understand me.”

The main problem is that most of Drunkense is just racial slurs.

“He loses his base and I pick him up on my shoulder and pile-drive him headfirst into the rocks.”

Reminder that this is a good friend of Walter’s, and also that Walter is an asshole.

“Hit him 180 times: one shot for each day that his lies put me behind bars.”

Holy shit, Walter is even more of a psychopath than I had ever considered.

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