The Berg and The Lime

There’s a guy I used to hang out with a lot when I was single, The Berg. I knew him through soccer and he lived in my complex, so he was a good fit for a drinking buddy.
The guy has a lot of quirks, like he’s just not quite wired right. He does odd stuff like before he goes out to the bars, he stops at the Circle K on the corner, bring his little cooler inside and fills it with ice out of the fountain drink dispenser to keep his Keystone Lights cold. He steals firewood. Not sure why. He bought one of those little Chiminea things for his patio and on his way home from the bars, he’ll back his SUV up to a grocery store that looks inadequately secured and load up with firewood. Then he’ll go sit on his patio with the fire going until about 5 in the morning. The guy once washed his car at a party. Pulled his car into the host’s driveway and washed his car in the middle of the night. Another time, at another party at the same host’s house, he just disappeared for awhile and went and took a shower. He comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and a head full of shaving cream (he’s one of those cats who Bics his head.)
Just a weird, weird guy. But also the kind of guy who’ll be the first to get your back when some shit goes down. But anyways, I was telling this story the other day on the way to dinner because it’s my favorite Berg story and it’s probably worth documenting for posterity.

This one night, The Berg and I were at this joint called Ernie’s. Ernie’s is technically in Scottsdale, but it’s pretty much the antithesis of Scottsdale bars. For one thing, they have Karaoke. Every night. And the people that end up there are usually capping their evening after bowling, Monster Truck rallies, playing poker for foodstamps, or spending a relaxing evening betting on fighting roosters. And to all of you thinking to yourselves, “What were you doing there, dumbass?”, shut-up. I didn’t have to drive and the beer’s cheap.
So anyways, we’re knocking a few back, our ears bleeding, people watching, blah blah blah. We see this one girl walking around the bar, putting her $1500 augmentations in as many people’s faces as possible—presumably to draw attention away from the trowel marks on her face from when she applied the pancake batter or whatever to it. This thing was a real piece of work, desperate for any attention that she could possibly get.
About an hour or so later, the bartender comes over to us and asks if we bought anyone a drink.
“No, why?”
“Well, that girl over there (pointing to BigChest/CakeFace) ordered a Gin & Tonic and said to put it on your guys’ tab.”
We politely informed him that it was bullshit, that we did nothing of the sort and the matter was easily resolved with the bartender. As for the crazy bitch that tried to pull it off, it wasn’t quite over. I was content to let it go, but as I turned to look for The Berg, he’d already started walking around the bar towards her. He stopped in the middle at the garnish tray on the bar and grabbed a lime wedge.
Then he walks over to her table and without a word, winds up like Sandy fucking Koufax and just nails this girl in the grill with the lime wedge. Just drills her. Without even a word. Then he just casually turned around and walked back over to where we were sitting, like it never happened. Didn’t say a word about it.
Don’t know why this always strikes me as funny as it does, maybe it’s one of those “you had to have been there things.” You decide.
The only other memorable thing from that night was me having to make small talk with some guy in a wheelchair for about an hour while The Berg tried to pick up Wheelchair Guy’s friend. He wasn’t a very nice guy either.