Damn Yankees

I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be in this cage. So I hit a guy, big deal, he deserved it. The jerk came after me with a beer bottle. What was I supposed to do, kiss him? All I did was protect myself. So because he was so drunk I was able to jump out of the way of the bottle and bash his skull in, I get locked up. The booking sergeant told me the guy had a concussion. Is it my fault he had a soft head?
The cops were real nasty about it too. A fat patrolman threw me up against a wall and told me I should have just walked away. How could I walk away? The guy had been badmouthing the Mets all night. When I went back at him the hero decided to circle behind me and crack my head open with a half empty Budweiser bottle.
Evidently the wife is pissed off at me again. She sure isn’t rushing down here with the bail money. Listening to her when she arrives might be worse than sitting here in the cell. The electric chair might be preferable to another lecture.
It’s tough being a Mets fan in this town. Come to think of it, it’s tough being a Mets fan anywhere. I asked my old man years ago why we weren’t Yankee fans like everyone else in the neighborhood. “Well kid, it’s easy to be a Yankee fan and hard to be a Mets fan. I just can’t help myself, I do hard better.” Words to live by.
The wife makes my bail and I’m on the street waiting for my well deserved lecture. Instead she smiles and asks, “Another Yankee fan?” Damn, I love this woman.