Thurman Merman Grows Up
June 18th, 2007
Is it just me, or is southwestern Pennsylvania’s chock full o’ nuts? And by “nuts” I mean those strange, eldritch characters who randomly show up on streetcorners and stoops, in backalleys and the backs of crowds…those odd folks whose momentary appearances on the stage of life make us stop, stare, and mutter to ourselves, “What the heck?” For example: an old guy wearing a bright yellow rain slicker—and very little else—on a dry, sunny day; or a 300-pound woman in spandex who follows you around loudly quoting Bible verses that no Biblical author in his right mind would’ve written.
Wherever I go in Fayette County, I inevitably encounter people like this. My most recent encounter happened just yesterday, right outside the Pt. Marion office of Michael’s Media Group. I had stepped out for lunch, and was crossing the street to hit up the Centra Bank ATM for some cash. The sunny quiet of the Pt. Marion afternoon was suddenly shattered by a loud, incoherent voice shouting something that sounded like, “I GOTTA PIECE OF LUMBER ON A CAR SEAT!”
I looked around in shock and spotted an unusual young fella standing on the curb just up the street. He looked like he was twelve or thirteen years old. His hair was a curly cap of bright blonde ringlets, his face round and florid from shouting. Somewhat heavyset, he was wearing an oversized football jersey that hung on him like a muumuu, and a pair of loose cutoffs—and he looked strangely familiar. As I watched him scream incomprehensible babble at passing cars, I realized that he looked like an older version of Thurman Merman, the awkward, Santa-loving kid from the raunchy comedy Bad Santa.
But what was Thurman Merman, all grown up, doing on a Pt. Marion sidewalk, bellowing belligerent abuse at random cars?
After I got my cash from the STAR terminal, I crossed the street again to avoid a too-close-for-comfort encounter with the kid. As I strolled up the sidewalk toward Sporty’s, where I often go for lunch, I wondered if I would nonetheless end up on the receiving end of Thurman Merman’s streetside tirade against life.
Before I got too far, Thurman turned around and disappeared through a door. A few moments later, he emerged back into the sunlight, with an amber bottle of beer in one sweaty mitt. He sat down on the sidewalk, wrenched the top off of the beer bottle with a hand wrapped up in the hem of his football jersey, flung the cap into the street, and proceeded to chug from the bottle. He drained at least half of its contents in one gulp then just sat splayed out on the corner, sweating and slowly turning red like a lobster in the sunshine.
Talk about a “What the heck?” moment!
It’s a sad day when Thurman Merman, at the ripe old age of twelve/thirteen, finds himself drunk before noon, shouting invective at passersby and random cars. But considering his “role model” in the movie Bad Santa was a drunk, depressed thief (played brilliantly by Billy Bob Thornton) who took jobs as a department store Santa just so he could case the stores for later robbery…well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised he turned out this way.
I just hope he doesn’t target me for attack today when I step out for lunch! Nothing spoils the appetite more than having Thurman Merman loudly tell you to “PUT A CORK IN THE PAVEMENT ON YOUR WAY TO THEM BISCUITS! YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT—I SAID THAT!”
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One female rep, handled herself very well in the shower today, then called off work to do it again. How nice of her to directly affect my free time by keeping me waiting for a live person to take my fucking payment.
Tomorrow, she'll find the water shut off right as she's about to gush and she'll be the one left waiting on hold. That fucking bitch!
Go ahead, laugh.
After you get done jacking off into the silk shirt you can't fit into anymore, you'll throw it in the trash... the garbage collectors take it home to give to the misfit midget asshole who lives in their basement.
That bastard.
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I think you'll read our site..
Thank You
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