by Mark Rickerby 'Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor.' At least that's what the wise men say. But Mickey always thought it was great for totally ruining somebody's day. Mick was the insult king of our block. We all called him "Mickey the Mouth." Nobody could hurl put-downs better than him. He was the best - east, west, north or south. "You should always have a good one ready," he said, "for when some bonehead tries to give ya some lip. Mickey the Mouth don't take no garbage from nobody! I don't mess around. I shoot straight from the hip." The other night at the bar, I saw Mick go to work when some big Mama Luke got all over his case. Mickey said, "Hey, great moustache, tough guy! It breaks up the monotony of your face!" Of course, Moustache didn't appreciate that and he punched Mickey right on the beak. Bleeding, Mickey asked, "Is dat all you got? You hit like my little sistah, Monique." This didn't help to calm the beast down. His eyes glared and his face turned red. He said, "You don't know when to shut up, do ya?" Then he broke a chair over poor Mickey's head. Now Mickey was only about five-foot-nothin' and not well-endowed in skill, strength or size so I was starting to question the wisdom of always talkin' trash and crackin' wise. But Mick kept on yappin', split lips and all. It would have been inspiring if it wasn't so sad. He got back up and said, "Gee, pal, I'm sorry . . . " . . that you have to go to prison to visit your dad." I don't recall much more after that one, just a whole lot of elbows and knees. The guy was a slugger but a gentleman, too, because he stopped when Mickey yelled, "Please!" "Finally, you've come to your senses!" he said. "I was getting tired of smackin' you around." Mick said, "Please! Please! Your B.O. is awful! The war's over. You can put your arms down!" Well, that about did it for Mickey the Mouth. The guy hauled off and laid him out flat. Now Mick's philosophy is right on his grave . . . "Hey, Stupid! What are you lookin' at?"
The end