Attention everyone, I have viewed and read this thread. Huzzah. I will begin typing the story after a few more sips of this wine. ET to post completion, 1 hour 
If you MUST know the reason for my tardiness, it’s because I am stuck in a Mafia game from Hell itself. That and fighting off a small horde of hand-axe wielding hobbits :eek:
Go Auto! I’ve been wondering if you’ve been finding the time to eat and sleep with the way you guys have been going in that game. Can’t wait to get your story.
Writing now…
Running to kitchen to pop some popcorn…
Anybody want anything? 
mushrooms?
Take the shortcut.
Naturally, I shoulda linked to that thread in the first place.
Now I’m wondering what mushrooms have to to with insulting a hooker in a dark alley?
Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time one again to step into the life and times of yours truly, Autolycus. (roaring applause). In case you’ve forgetten, that’s Ah-TAH-la-kiss 
Ok Ok, it’s my favorite time of the day, obligatory disclaimer time! The following story involves me getting drunk and doing something stupid. Any relations to names, events, or peoples listed in the following story are factual and any intended resemblance to these facts is entirely on purpose. Woohoo. Seriously though, my purpose is not to cause unnecessary worry in any readers. As for necessary worry, then I guess you’ll just have to trust me. Moving on!
The time was Japan, circa 2006. Japan, the land of sushi and sunrise, a land of cute creatures and technological terrors. It was a time of change. It was a time of excitement. It was a time that coincidentally happened to be last summer.
The setting, Yokosuka. Yokosuka was the lucky town chosen to host the US Naval base. It was a dirty city, full of dirty bars and dirtier people. It reminded me of a cross between Newark and Providence, which by that I mean politefully ghetto. Perhaps a better analogy is: Yokosuka was like deep fried dog shit. It sure looks good on the outside, but trying a bite changes the situation dramastically. (drastically + majorly)
Anyway, a friend of mine who was an officer in the Navy let me crash in his place for 9 weeks. We got along well, and he was a nice guy, but sometimes his uber-Christian tendecies really grated on me. I got him back though; I had sex on his bed about 8 times with my GF at the time, that b…lovely person. I didn’t want to do it honestly, but he was out of town on the ship, and his bed was so comfy, and my couch was too small, and my GF’s tits demanded satisfaction…aahhnn… I KNOW, I know, bad Auto, bad form and all that, but this is my story damnit. You know… it sure would be funny if he was a member here. Well, we can burn that bridge when we cross it ><
So, during the time me and my GF were apart, I had little to do but explore Yokosuka by day and party at night. For the 9 weeks I was in Japan, I spent probably 3 travelling, 3 with my GF, and 3 exploring/partying. This happened in Yokosuka during one of the latter 3 weeks.
Bars abounded in Yokosuka, but most were shitty and not worth the vomit from a hobo’s crusty tit. This night in particular though, I found a good one. The bartendress was hot and well-chested, they had darts, and most remarkably of all, the native Japanese people seemed to treat me less scummy than most foreign scum. (quick note about Japan: foreign tourists are treated very well. foreign people who try to integrate and become very skilled at the language+culture very quicly meet a wall of elitism and hate) Anyhoo, I had a grande olde time at this bar. Vodka, Shochu (a korean type of vodka-like substance), Hi-chuu (shochu with tea or other flavors), and w/e else I guzzled, were in abundance. Darts flew fastly with fervent finesse, and jocularity jostled jokers jointly, jowling japes justifiably adjourned. I was King of the Baaaar, Ruler of the Alcohol Ocean, Emperor of Intoxication! My mindset was thus: wooohooo paaartttyyyy go go go go go go go go go… fun fun fun fun fun.drink drink fun fun go go fun… CRASH. The hammer fell. Bacchus once again abandoned me to go play with his ladle. I then slept for 3 hours until 5AM when the bar closed, at which time I was forcibly woken up and guided down the stairs into the harsh moonlight.
I proceed stumbling home, happy, sleepy, and completely assblastedly shitfaced. I got about two blocks when I hear a voice. "こんばんは外人さま、遊びたいんですか。うわせくしいなぁ。お願いします外人様！” “Good evening foreign master. Do you want to have fun with me? Wow you are sexy. Please, I beg you master foreigner” It doesn’t matter how drunk you are, even Drunky McDrunkerson can recognize a prostitute when he sees one. Prostitutes transcend language, race, and culture. Ok, I am usually the nicest, most non-violent guy on the planet, but for some reason drunken OG SMASH Auto was in control. I wonder what that reason could be. Oooooooh right, the alcohol.
"話すな汚いまんこ！こいつと一緒にセクスをしたい人はねー” In a display of vitriol one rarely sees even in The Pit, i utter: “shut up dirty cunt. Nobody wants to have sex with a bitch like you,” The whore runs off crying and I proceed on my merry way.
I get to the street corner, when out walks two youngish gentleman in standard business dress. ”こりゃ、俺らの妹にそんぁに言うなんか遺憾よ。でも酔ちゃったみたい。さー誤ったらいいよ。このことを忘れてく” “Geez guy, we cant tolerate you talkin’ to our girl like that. But hey, you’re drunk out of your skull. Apologize and we’ll forget this ever happened”
Despite their standard dress, my drunken brain musters up the energy to clue me in that these are the whore’s pimps. At this point, I had two options: sane, and insane. You can probably guess which I chose… Adderrrrrr…
"誤るわけじゃねんだぞ。このあばずらが古いまんこを売ろうとした。出なければ頭にくるぜ。” –> “why should I apologize? This bitch comes up to me, tryin’ to sell her ancient pussy and shit. You better leave or I’m gonna get pissed.”
They say to me again: “Listen mister. Please, we dont want to cause trouble, just apologize and let’s all go home”
This part stuns me even to this day. Can you imagine this happening in ANY other place on Earth? A drunk, belliregent asshole causes trouble with a criminal, quite possibly mafia, and instead of getting killed, the criminal party tries to smooth things over!!! Un-fucking-believable. But oh no, oh no, my idiocy knows no bounds. No fucking bounds. The limit of my idiocy reaches infinity as BAC approaches 1.
So, naturally I refused to apologize and hurled some more epithets for good measure. Finally, the crooks lost their patience.
“You give us no choice flips switchblades hand over your wallet and anything else you got”
Now I’m in a bind. I’m in a bigger pickle than w/e the fuck this is. Soo what do I do? Do I run? Do I call for help? Do I fight back? no no and no, I do the only thing that comes natural to a spoiled little drunken child: I cry. I cry and cry and cry. “Waaaahhhh…Dont… sniff… Kill me…aah… please sirs… I’m too YOUNG to die” Waaaaaahhhhhh…waaaaaaaahhhhhhh. pffffttt *blow nose… whimper…"
“Geezus fuck, stop crying kid, we’re not going to kill you”
“waaahh… oh thank god… here… take my money and phone… waah…cry…”
Now the Japanese criminals are REALLY confused. Here’s this drunken foreign asshole kid who just did a complete 180, from complete rudeness to mind-blowing groveling. Given the nature of Japanese culture, I almost feel bad for them in retrospect. They probably went through a whirlwind of emotions that would have put Dorothy over the rainbow and back again.
Anyhow, they take my shit of course. I say “is there anything else… sniffle… wipe nose… I can do for you?” They pause and think: “sure kid, get us your passport and brings it back here” No sooner had they said this then I SPRINT back home faster than my legs could ever dream of running sober. I made the Flash look like Hong Kong Fooey. I return home, grab my room-mates passport, head outside, realize it was not my own, head back inside and upstairs to get my own, and then immediately pass out on my bed.
I woke up early the next morning with a splitting headache, random pains (later discovered to be bruises and cuts where I had fallen on the way home during my “godlike speed,”) and a hazy memory of being mugged. I thought perhaps it was a dream until my room-mate/friend asked: “why did you move my passport?” I lied, told him I was curious about where he had travelled, and then went back to sleep…
So in the end, everything worked out fine. I was unharmed and safe. The crooks avenged their whore’s honor, and much more importantly, I learned a valuable lesson. Dont insult prostitutes.
and dont drink to the point of blastedness ;))
THE END!
Bravo!
I especially like the part where you were dragged out of the bar. I try to imagine this in drunken Japanese and it’s even more hilarious.
Autolycus, that’s a GREAT story. And I guess I can say that without encouraging you since it already happened. Your ability to conjure these stories is really impressive. Are you writing a book? Thinking about it? You have some great talent.
I like the part where you recognize the prostitute. But a little baffled about the part where you don’t recognize dangerous pimps. The crying part was the best though.
I don’t know what it says about me, but this is my favorite part. 1, used as a fraction, unity and whole, complete alcohol saturation; and 1.00, really flippin’ tanked!
Oooh you flatter me 
In response to your question, I think it had in large part due to the dress of the two men. They were wearing white collared shirts and black dress pants, (think businessman), hardly American pimp material.
Please promise me that you will tell that tale to your grandchildren.
Preferably during a holiday dinner or such.
Hey now, forgive me if I’m not getting the cut of your jib, but I’m no liar.
Good story, but why were you gonna bring your passport back to them?
They asked (with knives) and I said yes…Alcohol is a hellofa drug.
Auto,
Screw these college classes teaching me the mundane polite stuff, you are going to be my new Japanese teacher.
Wow. I’ve been so schooled.
