Daf (in response to T.J.s request) Larry Kneel was sort of a nice guy. I don't mean the wife beater part of Larry Kneel, and I don't mean the heavy drinking, brawling, loud-mouthed Larry Kneel. No, I mean there was another Larry. The guy I worked with. He was ok, not great, but he kind of worked hard, and in the service that's more important than whether or not he beat his wife. After all, she was safe while he was at work and the service kept him working.

Larry Kneel could be a nice guy, so you always felt sorry enough for the guy to try and stop him from doing some of the stupid things that Larry would do. Take drinking: Larry was stupid when it came to drink. It wasn't just that he drank a LOT, it's that he drank a lot more than that, and never cared where or when(to his credit, never at work as far as I know.) Larry was a MEAN drunk though, it was just a matter of time before his not so agile brain would imagine up something to fight about. He would get in a fight with anyone about anything, and he didn't care what the consequences.

Anyhow, we're underway on our way to Mazatlan, Mexico...ready for some shore leave and a little Rest and Relaxation. When we got there, we had to stay anchored out in the harbor and take a boat to shore. (A shrImp boat Forrest! Run..Run!) While we're waiting in line to get on the boat that goes to the shore that Jack built, Larry Kneel is standing in line telling us about what he's gunna do when he gets ashore:

"I'm going for the GOLD tonight boys" Larry said, grinning. "Yup. Gunna go on a quest for gold soon as we step on dry land."

My friend Eddie and I look at each other with the same "what's this poor schmuck gunna do THIS time?" look on our faces. Then Eddie looks at Larry and asks, "Ok Larry, what's the quest for gold?"

"The quest for gold is: I'm gunna get me a bottle of Cuervo Gold and drink it all by muhself," Larry brags.
"Then Um gunna get me a hotel room and find me a senyerita."

My friend and I look at Larry with about as much feigned amazement as we could muster, then I piped up:

"Larry, I wouldn't do that if I were you, man. You're in a foreign country, you could get in serious trouble."

"Aww shucks man," Larry said, blowing me off,"I've done it plenty of times before back home. I'm gunna have me a GOOd time."

("Fine Larry, have it your way.")

We get to shore and had the greatest shore leave, it rocked, and the beaches kicked @ss and the senyoritas were righteously all that (and then some) and we dance the night away with the ladies, drank brewskis on a moonlit beach while work seemed miles away.(It was 5 in fact.)

When we went to go back to the boat the next morning, I stopped and picked up an Italian ice from a vendor to ward off the heat. I'm standing around, waiting for the boat, minding my own business when all of a sudden I hear the click of something metal behind me. I turn around and there are 8 Mexican soldiers coming toward us armed with Uzis and M-16s. I take about 5 big steps backwards before realizing that they are NOT coming for me, they are escorting Larry.

What a sorry sight he was. MY gawd! His hair looked like it had been moussed before he went to sleep; if it weren't for the chunks of color in his hair and the distinct odor of vomit all around him, I might have thought he HAD moussed his hair and combed it with a pillow. He had two black eyes, two blood encrusted nostrils and two split, swollen lips. His cheekbones looked like eggplants and I'm not sure whether those teeth were missing before or not, I'd never really noticed before. Larry had no shoes, his shirt looked as though he had stored it up a rhino's @ss before putting it on. Larry's belt (he always wore one) was missing and he seemed to be covered from head to toe in what can only be described as "gook."

Larry looked at me with pleading eyes for some sort of recognition..a familiar face, in THIS his coldest hour.
"Hey man," sez Larry, "Could I get some of your snowcone? I haven't had anything to drink since yesterday."

(Lemme guess Larry, Cuervo Gold? You drank the WHOLE thing and yer STILL thirsty?)

"No way, Larry," says I, "you've got too many automatic weapons aimed at you."

It was at that point that a guy who outranked me gives me a dirty look and takes my Italian ice, handing it to Larry. Then he goes back to giving me a dirty look...I shrug, what COULD I do? So I'm smelling Larry's foul putrescent vomit stench, which in the sweltering hot sun was not growing any more pleasant. For that matter neither was my attitude now that Larry was scarfing down my Italian ice. I had WARNED him not to drink like a moron, and he did and NOW I was burning up in the hot sun while Larry ate my friggin Italian ice AND called it a snowcone?! I looked, the Italian ice vendor had left, this BLEW.

The boat arrived 30 minutes later...

When we finally sat down with Larry, we were all curious to know what had happened. What had gone so terribly wrong on his "quest for gold"?

(Not that we didn't already know, we just wanted to hear it from Larry.)

"Well," Larry started, "I went and got this room in some hotel downtown and ordered a bottle of Cuervo, just like I said I was gunna."

"Uh huh."

"Well then I'm not sure what happened. I think I broke a big mirror behind the hotel bar with a shot glass."

"A shot glass...uh huh..and?"

"Well then the hotel security came and started trying to beat up on me. So I kicked their @sses.
They shouldnt've messed with me man...I'm telling ya."

(Yea Larry...I can see that...sheesh. Guess you taught THEM.)

"Good jOb(?) Larry, so you started assaulting these Mexican nationals in their own country after destroying their property, ok...that makes sense, what happened next?"

"Then the police came, and they brought soldiers with them."

(He was BRAGGING at this point in the story.)

"It took 20 of em to get me in the paddy wagon."

"20? Geezus Larry..."

Larry grinned. It was pretty pathetic, you didn't want to be there. It was just sad and pitiful.

"So, Larry, what happened in jail?"

"I'm not sure. I blacked out in the back of the police van."

"Larry, the two military liasons that came to pick you up in jail said that they found you, with your pants off and your underwear around your ankles though Larry. That didn't really happen did it Larry?"

(Ok, Larry, if there was EVER a time to lie...THIS is it pal. You're a happily married wife beater for gawd sake!)

"I'm not sure man...I was passed out."


"Wow, Larry...that's quite a story." (What COULD I say?)

I subsequently ended up being assigned ALL of Larry's duties that he was no longer qualified to perform, because of the disciplinary actions against him. As a result I took more than a little delight in poking fun at Larry's misadventure. I joked about the "Larry Love-me Doll"(the hands are attached to the knees). I joked that his little black book had an entry for the payphone at the Mazatlan jail. My pièce de résistance was a song which I composed and sang over the sound powered phones (connected to everyone in our division) during a readiness drill. It is sung to the tune of Yesterday:

It all started back in Mazatlan
He got butt f*cked by a guy named Juan
But at least, his stripes aren't gone.

Paco gave him but a single kiss
Now it even hurts to take a piss
Oh how did he..get syphillis?

It's so sad,
now his nads hurt even more
from between
Felipe's hips to his lips
a canker...sore..sore..sore sore

(switch to imitated Larry voice)
That leper Pancho must've buggered me
I'm not half of what I used to be
Oh how did I get leprosy?

They should not...have messed...with me."

Teenage Jesus Holy Smokes! That was hilarious! The part when Larry eats your "snow cone" was...well I laughed out loud!

Oh man; that was worth the wait! Thanx Daf! You've made my day - and it's only 7:18am.

Have a good one my friend.
DannyH To any of the kid's watching...

THAT'S how you tell a story.
Dafremen Italian ICe Dammit! : ) 010830
Dafremen Ok. So I received a letter from the Mazatlan street vendors association.(MACV)

In the letter they point out that my reference to the crushed ice and syrupy flavored treat was NOT in fact to an Italian Ice but to what they call a RASPADO. RASPADO means ¨grated¨, so it´s grated ice.

Anyhow, it´s still not a f*cking snow cone Larry, so kiss my trasero pal.
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