Waffler House: Hank v. Baron, 3rd Ed. [mp3]

“Better late than never,” the old saying goes. Here at Venuing Voices, we have uncovered the missing third edition of the popular* series Hank v. Baron.

As you read on (or listen), you may be thinking, “Hey, they’re talking about the Super Bowl. Wasn’t that, like, months ago? The one with the Saints and the Colts? I barely remember that game. I was pretty goddamn blitzed at Hugh’s Super Bowl party. He had this awesome dip that was basically melted Velveeta. It was awesome, but it’s probably why his toilet’s still backed up. Crap, what a night!”

Well, yes. You would be correct on all counts. However, we believe sufficient time has passed for us all to reflect on the discussions of one (or two) gentlemen dissecting the nature of celebrity indecision after Super Bowl XLVI. Besides, with Brett Favre still indecisive about his current status, this chat may be as timely as it’ll ever be.

________________
* popular in Quincy, Massachusetts†
† by which we mean Hank’s apartment in Quincy, Massachusetts


Waffler House: Hank v. Baron, 3rd Ed.


 
Dateline: February 8, 2010. A coffee shop somewhere in Jamaica Plain, Boston

Hank: Watch the game last night?

Hank: What game?

Hank: Dude the… fucking… Super Bowl, man, The Game.

Hank: Oh yeeeeeah. That was last night. [uncomfortable pause] Why are you looking at me like that?

Hank: Because if you’re gonna watch any game, any sport on television in These United States it would be this one, that’s why!

Hank: What? I had things to do.

Hank: Things to… like what, man?

Hank: I don’t know. Balls of Fury was on. Watch TV.

Hank: Balls of…? Oh my god. You are an idiot.

Hank: What? The movie’s hilarious, if you ignore George Lopez.

Hank: Well, obviously.

Hank: How were the commercials?

Hank: Dumb. Whatever.

[silence]

Hank: You’re upset, aren’t you?

Hank: Yeah, I’m upset. I wanted to talk about this game with you and now I can’t do that.

Hank: Well, why not?

Hank: Because you didn’t watch it, man. You missed Thomas Morstead’s brilliant onside kick. You know what his title is? His job title? “Kickoff specialist”, okay? That man is a specialist, and it was amazing. You know why they decided on an onside kick? Sean Payton didn’t want the Colts to have the ball in the second half.

Hank: O…kay.

Hank: What do you… What’s with this “okay”? What do you mean “okay”?

Hank: That doesn’t sound that special to me, man. I mean, of course you don’t want the other team to have the ball. I mean, frankly, I don’t understand why more teams don’t use the onside kick.

Hank: Because it would be anarchy. No one would score, it would be a mess. It’d turn into the U.S. Senatre.

Hank: Haha, he shoots, he scores.

Hank: Thank you. But, seriously, though, can’t you see the brilliance in saying something like that? That’s like saying [dons Texas accent] “You know how big Texas is? You know why it’s that big? ‘Cos we wanted it that way!”

Hank: That is idiotic. But go on. What else happened?

Hank: Eh, The Who played halftime.

Hank: Ahh, “The Two”. Was it as embarrassing on national television as I’m picturing it in my head right now?

Hank: Yes.

Hank: Any wardrobe malfunctions?

Hank: Pete Townshend pulled his dick out.

[spits coffee all over the place] What?!

Enrique: [angrily, off in the distance] Aw, fuck man, I gotta clean these floors, you know! ¡Coño su madre!

Hank: Ahh.. sorry, bud. I’ll clean that up.

Enrique: ¡Jódete!

Hank: [sheepishly] Sorryyyyy.. [back to Hank] Well, anything else happen?

Hank: You know what? I am hung over and I’m not going to sit here and give you the play by play. You shoulda watched the fucking game.

Hank: Aw, come on, man. Tell me about the commercials, which was the best one?

Hank: Dude, Balls of Fury? Super Bowl? Like, seriously?

Hank: Oh, come on, you laughed as hard as I did the first time we saw that movie.

Hank: Yeah, keyword: the first time.

Hank: Whatever, man, I liked that movie… Aw, man, he’s getting the mop.

Hank: His job, dude. Just don’t look.

Hank: But I feel so bad.

Hank: Just. Don’t. Look.

Hank: I’m gonna give him a big tip.

Hank: He’s not our server.

Hank: Still… Aw shit, he’s coming over.

Enrique: [walking over with the mop] Man, I got things to do without people coming over here—

Hank: Come on, man!

Enrique: —and spitting coffee all over the place like you’re a fucking two year old or something.

Hank: I said I was sorry!

Hank: You mind, man? We’re trying to have a conversation here. Alright? Yeah. Thanks.

Enrique: [Annoyed groan]

Hank: Anyway…

Hank: ANYway…

Hank: Heh. I was just thinking, like, it’s kinda funny how Peyton Manning and Brett Favre have, like, y’know, they have the same amount of Super Bowl rings, and they have similar records, and, y’know, Peyton Manning he gets a moderate amount of coverage and he’s like the quarterback and all that stuff, but Favre gets lavished with all this press and he gets all this attention—

Hank: Loads.

Hank: —and, you know, the other guy who’s just more modest, humble guy who’s—

Hank: Who’s not a douchebag.

Hank: —not a douchebag, he’s just kinda moseying along, I guess. I dunno, it’s just funny. I wonder why that is.

Hank: Oh, that’s easy, man. I didn’t have to watch the game to know this, alright. People. Love. Wafflers. Okay? Do I retire? Do I un-retire? Do I re-un-retire? I don’t know, I’m Brett Favre! I mean, shit, that indecision is embedded in his name, even! How the fuck do you pronounce that shit? Favruuhh?—

Hank: “Farve”.

Hank: —Faurrrrve?—

Hank: It’s “farve”

Hank: —Fav-ray? I mean, shit sounds like something you spray on your couch to get the stains off.

Hank: Look, it was just a thought, man, alright? It’s old news, I really don’t want to get into a thing about Brett Favre.

Hank: [not listening] Did you read USA Today the other week?

Hank: You know I did.

Hank: Hang on, hang on. [pulls out copy of USA Today] I got a copy right here. Hang on a sec. [ruffling through pages] Haaaang on.

Hank: Why would you carry a copy of…

Hank: [clears throat] Okay, third paragraph, direct quote: “People may think I’m pulling their leg, but I really do feel there’s nothing left to prove.” Now here’s the kicker, alright, then literally four sentences later.

Hank: You actually counted that shit?

Hank: Yes, I actually counted that shit. Just look here, alright? Look. Here’s what he says: “I’ve played so long that I have to rejustify that I actually was a pretty good player at one time.” Now, I’m not making this up, man. Look, I don’t think the guy’s an egomaniacal douche anymore. I seriously think he has no goddamn clue what he wants at any given moment.

Hank: So, what you’re saying is, this is why he’s lavished with press.

Hank: Oh yeah, yeah, totally. Totally. Look who gets all the attention these days. Lindsay Lohan, she breaks up with that Sam Ronson guy—

Hank: Uh, dude, Sam Ronson’s a—

Hank: —yeah, a DJ, I know. Anyway, Lindsay’s all like, “Oh we broke up!” and these she’s at his house the next day and, I don’t know, stealing jewelry or some shit, and like, “Get back together with me”… Then you have someone like Jay Leno who obviously can’t decide whether or not he wants to retire.

Hank: I don’t think he ever wanted to retire. He’s just a liar.

Hank: Shut up, let me finish.

Hank: You know what I think?

Hank: [sighs] What?

Hank: I think you shoulda watched the game last night so we had something to talk about other than news that’s two weeks old at best. Seriously? Jay Leno? You’re invoking Jay Leno? It’s fucking February for chrissakes!

Hank: History doesn’t happen in a vacuum, man. It’s all connected. Just sayin’.

Hank: You… are an idiot.

Hank: Aw, man, speaking of idiot, I forgot—

Hank: [crosstalk] Forgot your wallet.

Hank: —my wallet. Yeah.

Hank: Yeah. Whatever. I’ll spot you. You owe me like thirty bucks at this point, man.

Hank: I know, I know. I just—

Hank: I don’t want to hear it. Just get me the money. I already told you, man, I’m hurtin’.

Enrique: [off in the distance] Oh, trust me, man, he’s gonna be hurtin’ as soon as my fucking shift is over.

Hank: [bangs on table] Man, shut the fuck up. [gets up and walks over to Enrique] I’m trying to be nice here… [descends into indecipherable yelling]

Hank: [groans] Christ.

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