The Adventure of Roy Johnson

Last night some of my idiot friends went out, got drunk, and didn't have a ride, or any well being of getting home. I was in bed, drinking an Amberbock, watching Cool Hand Luke and ready for sleep at any moment when I got the rescue call. I figure for the most part, a bail out is good karma and goes further to solidify our friendship, so I agree to drive from St. Paul to dinkytown to uptown and home. In turn, the ride began hostle and only got worse when the other part of the crew needed a ride as well. Challenging my right to want them to shut up, some got defensive, some got annoying and some people, well they stayed nice and quiet (Thanks to you guys). The culmination of the ride happened when it was over, that is to say, the fight. And oh what a glorious fight it was among the night sky, with street lights illuminating anger and fear on our faces, watchers from above heckling for silence in the later hour. After the yelling and punching and destruction of jewelery, they separated and left me with the question, Why? Why did i come out there for them, and then they charge me with the rescue blues? (Ryan Adams) Yes I was Roy Johnson that night but my crew didn't have the intergrity of Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise. So I went home, ate some ice cream and finished watching Cool Hand Luke, an hour and a half later.