The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Baby’s First Bar Fight

Jonas got into a bar fight over the weekend.

This guy at the pool table next to him turned around and said, “Hey, aren’t you a little young to be in a place like this, kid?” Well Jo had just lost a close game with a hundred bucks riding on it and he was in no mood to be screwed with. He grabbed the nearest bar stool, swung it over his head and broke on the guy’s back while yelling, “Are you calling me a baby?!”

It all would have ended there, but the guy’s buddy was just coming out of the bathroom when it went down, so when Jonas turned from the destruction he’d caused the guy sucker punched him right in the nose and Jo went down like a ton of bricks. Well, at least like a 35 pound stack of bricks.

When he came to, Jo was in the drunk tank at the local police station. He tried to explain to them that he’d been deputized and wears his police officer costume uniform at least three times a week to school, and that he wasn’t even drunk, just cranky from missing his nap, but they let him stew in there awhile to teach him a lesson.

I’m not sure it did any good. He’ll just be back in there next weekend.

(Or maybe he was jumping on a balloon and fell flat on his face on the concrete. Whichever of the two seems more logical.)

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