I Set A Guy’s Balls On FIRE Last Night With A Flaming Blue Jesus

Every night at the bar is always interesting, but last night was one of those nights that you just know people will be telling stories about for a long time, and it’ll be one of those stories that keeps getting more and more crazy every time it gets told.

So I guess I better write it down here before I forget what ACTUALLY happened.  At least this way I’ll be able to laugh my ass off every time I hear a newer, crazier version of it.

My shift started off like usual. 

At seven there’s usually just a few regulars sitting around the bar finishing up their after work drinks, most of them probably not looking forward to heading home and getting an earful from their old lady for coming home half pissed again. 

I said hi to Frank as I made hung up my coat and my way behind the bar to see what needed doing.

Frank is a really good shit.  He’s old enough to be my Dad, and while I have on occasion caught him giving me one of those looks guys get on their face when you can tell that in their head they’ve got you totally naked and bent over a barstool, Frank is a perfect gentleman. 

He’s a great boss too.  Never late with a paycheck.  Never gets mad if I’m a little late for a shift, although I think that’s only happened like twice, and he is fun to work with too.  Great sense of humor for an old guy. 

I call him an old guy, but he’s only in his early fifties, so he’s really not that old.  Still, he loves to put on a show of being miffed when I call him that, so it works for both of us.

Things started to pick up by eight like they usually do as the stragglers from the after work crowd have finally made their way out, and the evening crowd starts to slowly make it’s way in. 

By nine we were probably half full, which is good for a Wednesday night.  That means the drinks are flowing, and it’s going to be a good evening for tips. 

More bodies kept filtering in, and it was pretty packed by ten-thirty.  I was busy as hell, taking drink orders and cleaning tables at the same time.  I had just finished clearing a table and had a tray full of empty beer bottles and glasses when it happened. 

Somebody bumped me from behind. 

Now, of course I’m pretty used to that type of thing.  It happens on a regular basis when you’re working in a busy bar.  But as I caught my balance and moved to stop myself from dropping the tray, I got bumped again, harder this time.

The tray slipped from my hand, and the sound of broken glass interrupted the noise of the bar.  I almost went down with it too, but somehow managed to catch myself.  As I turned to see who the hell had bumped into me, I came face to face with him, and I mean FACE TO FACE. 

This guy had no understanding of personal space.  He was practically sucking the breath right of my mouth he was so close, standing there with a big, dumb, leering grin on his face.  No apology.  No look of remorse or sheepishness like most people get when they bump into someone and cause an accident.  It was almost like he’d done it on purpose and was amused with himself. 

I made to take a step back to put a little space between us, and no sooner had I done so than both of his arms shot up and he had a hand on each of my tits, full grab, getting his money’s worth. 

The grin on his face was even bigger.  The prick was obviously enjoying himself, and then he turned to grin at his buddies, hands still on my tits. 

Now I know what you’re probably thinking.  Why didn’t I smack him, shove him away, or pull his hands off my tits?  Something.  Anything. 

Well, I guess I’m a little cooler than most chicks in a situation like this.  Comes partly from working in a bar for a while, and partly from my own depraved sense of revenge, which is why I did what I did next.

I just stood there, didn’t move from the spot except to reach beside me to grab the Flaming Blue Jesus I’d just delivered to one of the guys at that table.  Looking Mr. Tit Grabber straight in the eye, I tossed the whole thing squarely into his crotch, flames and all. 

Now, for those of you that don’t what a Flaming Blue Jesus is, here’s the recipe.

1 oz Bacardi® 151 rum
1/2 oz peppermint schnapps
1/2 oz Southern Comfort® peach liqueur
1/2 oz tequila

Layer with 151 proof rum on top. Light on fire - burn for 5 seconds - blow it out and drink.

Except, unluckily for Mr. Tit Grabber, I hadn’t had time to get to the blowing it out part yet before he bumped into me.

And, this Flaming Blue Jesus was a double, so it had lots of alcohol to keep it burning while it flew through the air into Mr. Tit Grabber’s crotch. 

That’s when the smile transferred from Mr. Tit Grabber’s face to mine. 

His crotch lit up like somebody had just thrown a match into a pile of wood that’s been doused in
lighter fluid. 

The look on his face was priceless.  Shock at first, followed by amazement, followed quickly, VERY QUICKLY, by a look of horror as he stared down at his flaming crotch. 

It didn’t take much longer for that look of horror to turn into a look of excruciating pain, and then Mr. Tit Grabber was turning and fumbling around behind him, hands grabbing frantically for a glass that had liquid in it. 

He finally managed to get his hands on a mug of beer and poured it on his crotch, followed by quickly by another one.  By that time it was quiet enough in the bar to hear a pin drop, and then as the entirety of the situation and what they’d just seen started to process in people’s minds, the laughter started, growing quickly until the whole place was alive with it.

As mad as he was about having his twig and berries roasted, I think it was the laughter that finally pushed Mr. Tit Grabber over the edge and caused him to throw a punch at me.  There was no grin on his face when he did it.  Just pure rage.

I moved out of the path of his fist just before it hit me, and before he could react, I put my knee between his legs with everything I had. 

The look in his eyes changed once again as the rage disappeared and that now familiar look of excruciating pain took it’s place.  His hands moved to cover his privates while his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor in that familiar sequence we’ve all seen at least a few times before. 

The laughter had quieted and died out after he’d thrown the punch at me, and silence had again filled the bar as everyone had watched to see what was going to happen next.  The sound of applause now broke the silence and grew to an almost unbearable level as I received shouts of approval and support. 

Frank softly pushed me aside, stood over Mr. Tit Grabber as he moaned on the floor, and told his  buddies to get him the hell out of his bar.  None of them said a word as they sullenly picked up they're tit grabbing, crotch roasted, balls busted buddy from the floor and headed toward the back door.

A couple of the guys at the table behind me had gathered up the bottles and broken glass from where my tray had fell and stacked it all carefully on the tray.  I thanked them as I picked up the tray, and headed back to the bar to get my customer another Flaming Blue Jesus. 

I've never been much for prayer, but I found myself laughing and thinking "thank you Jesus!"