Good Lord, I'm Hung...Over

Greetings, sportsfans! Bumpers here. I’ll tell you what, sometimes it’s good to have your own plane and sometimes you get way too loaded and wake up in Topeka. What the hell was I thinking? And who the hell is this young lady sleeping next to me? Wait a second, I think it’s all starting to come back to me…

I got together with my poker buddies last night. It was me, Jim Nabors, Merv Griffin and Manute Bol. We mainly played the usual stuff, Two Card Texas Munchkin, Vietnamese Three Card and of course, Black Jack. And like all men who play cards, we drank heavily.

In case you ever find yourself in a card game with these guys, let me tell you what to look for. First of all, Nabors is the worst freakin’ card player ever. He has to use a plastic card holder, because he is unable to make a fan with the cards. On top of that, he can’t count for squat. And when he does get a good hand he can’t control that goofy smile of his.

Merv is a whole different story. The problem with playing with Merv is his pockets are too deep. Now I can waste money with the best of them, but Merv is a damn maniac. He’s almost worth a billion dollars and I learned one thing the hard way – you can’t bluff a billionaire. Damn, did I learn that the hard way.

As for Manute, the 7’ 7" ex-NBA star, he is actually a skilled card player. See, we always have the dealer call the game and we rotate the deal. The problem with Manute, is all the freakin’ African games he calls. One hand I’m playing some Mozambique Stud and the next I’m playing Zimbabwe Draw. I can’t keep those games straight as is and when the booze is flowing – Lord help me.

So the game was going well and The Showman was winning his share. But I think somebody slipped a pill into my drink, because before I knew what hit me the room was spinning like crazy, and I’m pretty sure it was upside-down. Now, Merv brought some young starlet with him and after I had some cocktails I started making the moves. The next thing I knew, we were all alone.

She started giving me some sob story about how she misses Kansas and well, The Showman isn’t one to disappoint. I asked her how much it would mean to her if we took my biplane to Topeka so she could visit home. Well, she sure showed me how much it would mean to her. After that, I was ready to fly her to the freakin’ moon if she wanted. And yes, The Showman does have pull at NASA. I could get it done.

So we did it. We flew to Kansas late last night and here I am in a rinky-dink bed and breakfast in the middle of Topeka. Jesus, I’m a sucker. And Guttenberg is going to be so pissed when he realizes I’m not going to be able to make our tee time. But to be perfectly honest with you, I’m kind of happy about that. The guy still does his Officer Mahoney routine and it is absolute dullsville. Ah, but I’m just being cranky. I think me and this bird will have another go at it and then I gotta get myself some lunch.

I’m winkin’ at ya and thinkin’ of ya.
The Showman