12/09/2005

Bobby Lightfoot's Real-Life Non-Celebrity Asshole Fights #1: April 1999


Yes, my friends and Romans, it shames and amuses me to confess I worked a fucker pretty good back in the good ol' 20th century. I reckon by the end of this little saga you'll see why it was inevitable. I can walk away from a confrontation as well as th' next polesmoker, especially when cars and freeways are involved, but this one had to go down.

This was when Sal th' Feist was just a little grunter of about 8 months, just starting to feel her oats. I used to take her up to Feist Hill in Pacific Beach where dogs could run free until th' Law would show up and hand out tickets. She would race around like a little dickens and meet other feists and regular dogs and there was never any static. People generally have enough sense to keep the more vicious of the dogs on their leads or preferably in little veal pens where they fucking belong.

One day this shit heel pitbull breeder shows up in a van with pit bulls painted on the side. No, I'm not lying. I see this shit and figure it's time to throw Sal the Feist in the car and head home. Before I can scoop her up this asshole gets out with three pitbulls on leashes and sure enough, one busts its leash and comes snarling after Sal. Poor Sal is crying and running circles around my car and I'm tryin' to grab her but this fucking pit bull catches her sure enough and I was sure it was curtains for Th' Feist.

Fucking dog has Sal in its jaws, trying to get a good grip on her neck and I have no choice but to pick up the whole god damn bundle and try to separate them before it's too late. I grab the fucking pit bull by the scruff of the neck and a handful of skin in the genital vicinity and just shake as hard as I can. I get lucky and the fucking thing lets go. I have it by the scruff until I get poor Sal safely into my car.

Can you imagine what an asshole this fucking pitbull breeder is? He looks sort of like that idiot Danny Bonaduce but with less hair and when he gets his fucking dog in th' chest from three feet he almost goes over. Fucking bastard. I'm completely livid. He corrals his filthy, murdering beasts back in his shitty van and comes over to smooth things over with me. I've got Sal and I'm looking her over. A couple of cuts but she's O.K. She's really pissed now, just like a terrier, squirming and barking like she wants a second chance. He takes a look at her and tells me he's a vet and he can fix her up which you can imagine goes down real good with me.

Quite a crowd has gathered by now, of course. They're not sympathetic to him. He gives me his card and gets in his van. I look at his card. He's a fucking plastic surgeon! A plastic surgeon!

I'm sure very few of you will think less of me when I tell you that I walked over to his van, opened his driver's side door and hauled him out by his collar. He was real surprised and that worked in my favor as I chucked him up against the side of his van and popped a hard left right in his ugly face.

Real fights aren't like you think. Never are. The adrenalin lasts about five seconds and then you start realizing what a drag it is to pop someone in the face. It takes some real fury to work up to that. Hurts your hand too. The fact that he actually started to come at me gave me all the fuel I needed and the next one was a right to his cocksuckin' eye. Then I just went three more good ones, two lefts to the nose and eye and one last right to th' teeth. Pop pop pop. Fucking asshole. Fucking bleeding his shitty plastic surgeon pitbull-breeding blood on me. Bleugh.

Um, he was down after that. Huffing against his van. And boy, were my fists all fucked up and bleeding. His pulse was fine. Fast but fine. The crowd was shocked but firmly on my side. No one was writing down plate numbers.

I took Sal The Feist to the vet and they hooked her up. I cleaned up my hands and did a recording session.

Fuck with people's children you can pretty much expect this sort of thing. Anybody can understand that. My regrets have been few.

Um, there's only #1. I haven't ever hit anyone else besides bandmates since I was 16. I consider bandmate fisticuffs just part of the writing process. Karate doesn't count either. Mostly I just got hit much to the joy of dentists down th' line.

4 Comments:

Blogger Pinko Punko said...

Oh man, if some a-munch jacked up the Smoke Dog or little Pugsley, I don't know what I would do. And what the fuck- these asswads don't have their dogs neutered, like the SF city woman with her two pit bulls, one not neutered, one in hear, then she's all, I'm gonna lock my 11 year old in the basement, cuz the dog's acting all crazy (wonder the fuck why), course he doesn't stay down there, and he is mauled to death. Then the bitch gives a quote to the paper about her own fucking son- "maybe it was just his time to go"

WHAT THE FUCK

11:35 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What a day that was. Bobby didn't want to tell me what happened because I was always the nervous one when Sal the Feist was off her lead on the Feist Hill.

I joined up with him later that evening during his recording session and was quietly told, "look at Bobby's hand". What a mess! If I remember ... it took weeks to heal. Obviously I was really proud of him for defending our little girl.

Sal? She healed nicely and please don't feel too sorry for the little feist. She celebrates this occasion every time she gets a little leftover that drops from our table. Regardless of whether it's hamburger, steak, chicken or a frito, she thinks it is Bulldog! Hell, she even gets a bulldog cake on her birthday.

This scrap with the bulldog just added to the traits that makes her such a nasty piece of work. And if you let her tell the story, the bulldog went after her DogsDads and she kicked the owners ass and then ate the bulldog.

DogsMoms
(aka Lori Lightfoot)

6:44 AM  
Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

There may be nothing in this world more useless than a dog owner who has no idea what he's got.

In fact, anybody who "owns" their dog. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.

deuai - Japanese for dickhead

2:54 PM  
Blogger XTCfan said...

Sounds sweent, Bobby. Glad that the dickhead didn't get your info and sic one of his lawyer friends (speaking of attack dogs) on you. Sometimes poetic justice is served, apparently.


wdxmsmt (dogspeak for dickhead)

5:18 PM  

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