M.B.A.
Moron$ Ba$tard$ and A$$hole$
PG Version
By Jeff Blackwell
@copyright 2013
For my great friend, Charles Giardina, who left us way too soon. I know your humor has the angels roaring and your big heart has their wings a’soaring. We miss you each and every day.
Table of Contents
Prologue - Beginnings
Chapter 1 - Yesterday
Chapter 2 - Eighteen
Chapter 3 - Rock’n Me
Chapter 4 - Somebody to Love
Chapter 5 - Show Me the Way
Chapter 6 - Going Mobile
Chapter 7 - I Want You to Want Me
Chapter 8 - Stairway to Heaven
Chapter 9 - Learning to Fly
Chapter 10 - Love Hurts
Chapter 11 - What’s Your Name?
Chapter 12 - Whole Lotta Love
Chapter 13 - Free Ride
Chapter 14 - I Fought the Law
Chapter 15 - Changes
Chapter 16 - New Kid In Town
Chapter 17 - Communication Breakdown
Chapter 18 - Don’t Ask Me No Questions
Chapter 19 - Miracles
Chapter 20 - Take it to the Limit
Chapter 21 - Ready for Love
Chapter 22 - Fire
Chapter 23 - Highway to Hell
Chapter 24 - Won’t Get Fooled Again
Chapter 25 - Maybe I’m Amazed
Chapter 26 - You Really Got Me
Chapter 27 - Who are You?
Chapter 28 - Double Vision
Chapter 29 - Love the One You’re With
Chapter 30 - Bad to the Bone
Chapter 31 - You’re My Best Friend
Chapter 32 - Fortunate Son
Chapter 33 - Jumpin’ Jack Flash
Chapter 34 - He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother
Chapter 35 - Now You’re Messin’ With A Son of a Bitch
Chapter 36 - Killer Queen
Chapter 37 - Uptown Girl
Chapter 38 - The Logical Song
Chapter 39 - Over the Hills and Far Away
Chapter 40 - More Than a Feeling
Chapter 41 - Back Door Man
Chapter 42 - Cat Scratch Fever
Chapter 43 - Sultans of Swing
Chapter 44 - After Midnight
Chapter 45 - I’m Free
Chapter 46 - Blinded by the Light
Chapter 47 - Sledgehammer
Chapter 48 - Can’t Get Enough
Chapter 49 - Born to Run
Chapter 50 - Who’s Crying Now?
Chapter 51 - Midnight Confessions
Chapter 52 - Walk of Life
Epilogue - The End
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue
Beginnings
Did you ever have one of those mornings when all seemed so right with the world? You’re still mostly asleep but just starting to dip a toe into the pool of reality. Your pillow is snuggled in a perfect cocoon around your ears and the blankets are at that just right toasty temperature. Your feet are comfy and happy as warmth flows all the way up your body to the ends of your ears. A hint of fresh brewed coffee wafts around your head and gently creeps into all your senses. Your wife has slid back under the covers and fits perfectly against your soft downy filled backside. You want to go back to sleep, yet you want to stay awake, just a bit, to continue to experience this wondrous state of being.
As the dawn of consciousness begins to break across your synapses, your heart rate speeds up and your eyelids, oh, so slowly, begin to part. Your brain starts to boot up and warm thoughts of the wonders of the coming day help you maintain that perfect state of bliss.
The first sign that maybe this is not one of those mornings is that nagging voice in the back recesses of your cotton filled mind that goes from a soft caressing whisper to a head splitting shout. “Mick, when in your life have your have you EVER used the word ‘waft?’ And what the heck is a ‘soft downy filled backside?’ Next thing you know, you’ll be seeing thinking about sugar plum fairies flying out of your nose.” My nagging voice is very sacastic.
Ah, man. My gummy eyes ease open and I hazily gaze through a sticky goo impairing my vision. However, I can tell that this is not a Walton Mountain morning and Grandpa has definitely left the building. I’m alert enough to take a fuzzy read on the situation. I realize that the cocoon shaped around my head is my sweat soaked Panthers Super Bowl XXXVIII T-shirt. The warmth I seem to be embracing is the breath stealing oppressive North Carolina summer heat. The smell “wafting” around me is more like burnt forty-weight Pennzoil, not a tall mocha with a vanilla shot. And when the heck did I walk down the aisle? You’d think I’d remember something like that. The pleasant thought that it’s the perfect woman of my dreams spooning against me is shattered by her hot smelly breath on the back of my neck followed by a rough tonguing behind my left ear. She also seems to be in desperate need of an industrial strength depilatory.
I try to flip over on my back to check out the size, state of cleanliness and relative temperament of my unknown snoring companion. This proves problematic as I am trussed up like the proverbial goose. My hands are bound with duct tape. Darn, so are my ankles. There is more duct tape connecting the two behind my back. Was it buy one get one free day at the duct tape store? My brain is just clear enough to guess that I probably did not do this to myself. Not much else is penetrating my cranial cumulus. C’mon, it’s time to kick start the mental engine and try to remember who I am, where I am, and how the heck I got here. I think I’ll close my eyes again for just a minute as I go tripping down memory lane. Would you care to join me for the journey?