This Saturday I’ll be heading down to Granite Falls for comedy show Wayne Burfeind, Dennis Anton and Drew Junior. Drew started doing open mics around the same time I did and had an annual homecoming show in Granite Falls where he’d bring his friends to tell jokes, make a few bucks and get completely wasted off of small town prices for booze (You can die of alcohol poisoning for fifteen bucks in a small town bar. No lie).

That's me on the bottom right. Head full of hair and dreams.

Drew moved to Vegas several years ago but has since moved closer to the cities and his wife, Naomi, had the idea of a reunion show. I gladly accepted but as the time to go back to Granite Falls draws near I’m a bit nervous. The last time I was there with Drew and Naomi a girl punched me in the face. Twice. Here’s what happened.

Right before Drew and Naomi left for Vegas they had a going away party in their hometown. I thought it’d be fun to load up the car with a bunch of comics, get a couple of hotel rooms and send them off proper. We checked into the hotel and head to the American Legion where Drew and Naomi are having a huge party in the dining hall. We put on a brief impromptu show and close the bar down at 1AM. Drew and Naomi head home but the rest of us are not done drinking so we head to JB Yates (now Bootlegger’s, the location of the reunion show) for an hour of partying. The bar closes at 2AM and we all spill out, drunk as hell. A man in a pickup truck yelled “party at my place!” and I responded by yelling “WHOO! PARTY!” and jumped in the back of his truck. I learned that I wasn’t invited when he shouted “Get the fuck outta my truck!” so I promptly apologized and spilled out the back, hitting the ground hard and twisting my ankle.

I limped back to Wayne Burfeind’s car and from across the lot this girl with four guys behind her yells “Fucker! You ruined Drew and Naomi’s special night!” and begins to run at me with her fist raised. A million thoughts rush through my head as she’s coming at me. “Who is this person? I’ve never even met her before. What did I do to ruin Drew and Naomi’s night? What possibly-”

Pow.

My train of thought was interrupted with a right hook to my left eye. I didn’t move. After two seconds I said “…What?”

Pow.

Left hook. I backed away, ran to Wayne’s car and jumped in. We looked at each other and just drove back to the Super8, confused.

The next morning we have breakfast with Drew and Naomi. I told Drew and Naomi about my beatdown from the previous night. Naomi asked “What did she look like?”

“Tiny fists and I think she wore a ring. Other than that, I was drunk.” Wayne filled in the details.

“Oh, that was probably Amber! She’s a psycho! She does crazy shit like that all the time! I have her number, do you want to call her?” I said yes, called her and got her voicemail.

“Um… Hi. My name is Bill. You probably don’t know me, well, we met last night in the parking lot of Yates. Uh, you gave me the ol’ ‘one, two’ and I was just, ah, just wondering… why did you punch me? Give me a call on Naomi’s phone. Talk to you later, ‘bye.” Naomi got a call two minutes later. We heard her say “Uh huh, uh huh. Okay, ‘bye.” and then she hung up.

“First off, Amber said she never wants you to call her voicemail again.” We all erupted in laughter. I say “Deal.”

“Also, she said the reason she punched you was because you were yelling ‘Fuck Drew and Naomi’ at the top of your lungs…”

This was a mystery. I don’t remember yelling any such thing but I was pretty drunk. Wayne was with me the whole night and he heard no such thing and he was considerably less drunk. It didn’t happen. It was weird that somebody would make that accusation but Naomi told me the next day that she talked to Amber some more and she said that “she just wanted to punch somebody and probably made it up”. Awesome.

Now it’s seven years later. Is she still there? Does she remember me? Has she been training all Rocky 4 style running up hills with a big log on her back? I know I should have got those brass knuckles when I had the chance.

Pray for me.