|MASSEUSE RIPPER, TOTALLY WASTING WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PRODUCTIVE DAY.|
A day that once held the promise of finished errands and physical activity became a complete waste yesterday when masseuse Ripper started drinking what would end up being nearly a case of beer shortly after waking up.
Mr. Ripper had intended to drink the twenty-one Sierra Ices later in the day, after he had gotten "some shit done" and maybe "played a little b-ball with [town drunk] Cochran," according to plans that Mr. Ripper announced the night before.
In an attempt to rid himself of what must have been, for Mr. Ripper, an unremarkable hangover, he started off his day with the three-fourths of a can of Sierra Ice he had left unfinished the previous evening.
"Hair of the dog," Mr. Ripper said as he finished the beer in one swig. "Literally."
That beer now finished, Mr. Ripper immediately cracked a fresh Sierra Ice, setting the tone for the rest of the day.
"Once that starts, forget it," said bartender Jen Grinspan, who was in the kitchen when Mr. Ripper opened his second beer. "That first beer is the snowball that sets off an avalanche the size of Tokyo."
Mr. Ripper was on his fourth beer before the thought of food even crossed his mind.
"I've always advised him to eat a complete breakfast prior to drinking beer, or any alcohol," said the Most Reverend J. Proie, who was also in the kitchen that morning. "The three B's: Breakfast Before Booze.
"Not this morning, unfortunately," Rev. Proie continued. "Usually by this point he would have at least micro-waved an egg or something. It took all I had to get him to eat a few pieces of toast. 'No time,' he kept saying."
It's unclear what Mr. Ripper needed time for, as the rest of his day would be spent playing NHL '95 on Sega Genesis and drinking Sierra Ice, with only a few packs of cigarettes to break up the monotony.
"He had a lot planned," said Mr. Cochran. "He was finally going to check out that new hand-job place near the park, and then meet me for a little one-on-one basketball. I figured I could talk him into buying me some lunch.
"I was blacked out way before noon, so I don't even know if any of that happened or not."
There are no reports as to Mr. Cochran's activities that day, but it has been confirmed by several sources that Mr. Ripper was never anywhere but the couch, getting more beer from the kitchen, or using the bathroom.
"He talked all week about how he had so much planned for today," said Coach Gay Sutton, who was with Mr. Ripper on several nights leading up to his day off. "He had to get his hair frosted or some shit, then he was going to take his lady miniature golfing.
"Right. Miniature golfing," continued Mr. Sutton. "As if that was going to happen."
Mr. Ripper could not be reached for comment, as he was passed out on the couch.