THE LEGEND OF LANGBEHN: Homeward Bound
A cigarette hangs from the hero's lips like a negro in 1840 as he calms his drunken and bong resinated head on the back porch of a college party on a cold and misty night in La Grande, Oregon. He staggers like an old French whore as he throws the butt into the neighbor's yard. Upon entering the house he soon realizes that the party has not only left the premises, but he as well. "They must have gone to the bar," his sloshed mind concludes. He walks fast in hopes of catching up with the group but to no avail. Five blocks later, he manages to stumble into the bar like a retarded kid who got into his dad's nose candy and orders himself a few drinks. He looks around the bar, the dance floor, the bathrooms and everywhere else, but finds none of his crew. "They will surely come here soon," he assumes. He orders another drink. Then another. And then another. He soon realizes that they will not be coming, for they must have gone to the bar seven blocks down the road. He knows he must get there soon, as there is not much time left before last call.
Seven blocks is a long way to someone who knows he can finish at least two beers on the walk over. He pays his tab and rumbles out the door and begins to walk at a brisk pace in a sidewinder motion. Suddenly, he hears the whistle of a train to his left that is just beginning it's departure to unknown whereabouts. However, our hero manages to break from his drunken haze to realize that the train is headed straight for the bar he yearns to go to.
"Tiiiiiiight," he exclaims as he notices an opened boxcar. He sprints for the lugging train and manages to pull himself upon the chugging beast (much like himself) while being cautious to not tear his priceless USS TANG jacket. "There is a lot of traffic for a small town late at night," he thinks to himself as he continues to give the finger to the oncoming motorists. The cars soon begin to dissipate, and through his blurred vision he sees nothing but hayfields and notices that the railroad ties beneath his feet are moving much faster than when he had first hopped on. He has no choice but to bail.
The impact of the fall sends him tumbling down the rocky slope leaving him bruised and battered like my ex-girlfriend. He lays motionless for a few seconds but finally finds the strength to pick himself up off the ground. He takes a moment to get his bearings. He estimates that he is about 5 miles outside of La Grande. The hero is not equipped with a cell phone and with no signs of civilization he knows his only way of getting home will be with his legs. His first step is a painful one. It feels as if he is dragging a lock-jawed aligator with his mangled leg from the crash, but our courageous hero presses on.
He has not even gone a mile yet and the pain is becoming almost as unbearable as watching "Dukes of Hazzard", the movie. He decides to take a rest against a fencepost surrounding a field. He sits down and hears the unmistakable sound of a horse trotting towards him. Our hero manages to hop over the fence to greet the horse, he introduces himself and offers the horse a cigarette. The horse declines but seems content to help in any way he can. The brave man displays his festering leg to the steed and tells the horse that he will not be able to make it back to town without proper transportation. He asks permission to climb aboard, but the horse is apprehensive. After 30 minutes of drunken negotiations, the stallion complies, but makes it known that he will need to be back to his stable by daybreak and our gracious hero accepts the offer.
The injured soldier lifts himself onto the fenceposts and begins to coax his new friend over (He is bareback...It's hard to mount a horse without a saddle...Kinda like a fat chick without a fold). He jumps on his back faster than Jimmy on Nickers, kicks the gate open with his good leg and the two begin their trek home. Our hero lays his head on the horses neck so the 5-O don't spot him and is able to steer by kicking its sides. Alas! They are finally within city limits and continue the steady trot to the Cimmaron Apartments. When they get to our hero's door, he dismounts and with a wave of his hand, says, "Go home." He walks through his doorway and melts into his bed where he had the best sleep of his life, but his most painful morning the next day...And the cops are still looking for him.
An artist's rendition of the historic event
YES, THIS WAS A TRUE STORY!!!!
A cigarette hangs from the hero's lips like a negro in 1840 as he calms his drunken and bong resinated head on the back porch of a college party on a cold and misty night in La Grande, Oregon. He staggers like an old French whore as he throws the butt into the neighbor's yard. Upon entering the house he soon realizes that the party has not only left the premises, but he as well. "They must have gone to the bar," his sloshed mind concludes. He walks fast in hopes of catching up with the group but to no avail. Five blocks later, he manages to stumble into the bar like a retarded kid who got into his dad's nose candy and orders himself a few drinks. He looks around the bar, the dance floor, the bathrooms and everywhere else, but finds none of his crew. "They will surely come here soon," he assumes. He orders another drink. Then another. And then another. He soon realizes that they will not be coming, for they must have gone to the bar seven blocks down the road. He knows he must get there soon, as there is not much time left before last call.
Seven blocks is a long way to someone who knows he can finish at least two beers on the walk over. He pays his tab and rumbles out the door and begins to walk at a brisk pace in a sidewinder motion. Suddenly, he hears the whistle of a train to his left that is just beginning it's departure to unknown whereabouts. However, our hero manages to break from his drunken haze to realize that the train is headed straight for the bar he yearns to go to.
"Tiiiiiiight," he exclaims as he notices an opened boxcar. He sprints for the lugging train and manages to pull himself upon the chugging beast (much like himself) while being cautious to not tear his priceless USS TANG jacket. "There is a lot of traffic for a small town late at night," he thinks to himself as he continues to give the finger to the oncoming motorists. The cars soon begin to dissipate, and through his blurred vision he sees nothing but hayfields and notices that the railroad ties beneath his feet are moving much faster than when he had first hopped on. He has no choice but to bail.
The impact of the fall sends him tumbling down the rocky slope leaving him bruised and battered like my ex-girlfriend. He lays motionless for a few seconds but finally finds the strength to pick himself up off the ground. He takes a moment to get his bearings. He estimates that he is about 5 miles outside of La Grande. The hero is not equipped with a cell phone and with no signs of civilization he knows his only way of getting home will be with his legs. His first step is a painful one. It feels as if he is dragging a lock-jawed aligator with his mangled leg from the crash, but our courageous hero presses on.
He has not even gone a mile yet and the pain is becoming almost as unbearable as watching "Dukes of Hazzard", the movie. He decides to take a rest against a fencepost surrounding a field. He sits down and hears the unmistakable sound of a horse trotting towards him. Our hero manages to hop over the fence to greet the horse, he introduces himself and offers the horse a cigarette. The horse declines but seems content to help in any way he can. The brave man displays his festering leg to the steed and tells the horse that he will not be able to make it back to town without proper transportation. He asks permission to climb aboard, but the horse is apprehensive. After 30 minutes of drunken negotiations, the stallion complies, but makes it known that he will need to be back to his stable by daybreak and our gracious hero accepts the offer.
The injured soldier lifts himself onto the fenceposts and begins to coax his new friend over (He is bareback...It's hard to mount a horse without a saddle...Kinda like a fat chick without a fold). He jumps on his back faster than Jimmy on Nickers, kicks the gate open with his good leg and the two begin their trek home. Our hero lays his head on the horses neck so the 5-O don't spot him and is able to steer by kicking its sides. Alas! They are finally within city limits and continue the steady trot to the Cimmaron Apartments. When they get to our hero's door, he dismounts and with a wave of his hand, says, "Go home." He walks through his doorway and melts into his bed where he had the best sleep of his life, but his most painful morning the next day...And the cops are still looking for him.
An artist's rendition of the historic event
YES, THIS WAS A TRUE STORY!!!!
posted by Alex at 5:03 PM
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