The Wife and I, we were in here drinking. [at the Shamrock]

We left and went home and she had a meltdown about something. I don’t remember what it was. She’s a woman, something is going to cause her to melt down.

We were arguing in the kitchen and I was walking away, just an argument I couldn’t win. Sometimes its best just to walk away. And I should have kept walking instead of stopping and turning around. I turn around and she’s landing left and right hammer fists in my face, working my face like speed bag. Which was kind of good because she couldn’t punch and talk at the same time and I’d rather get punched in the face than hear her screeching mouth, which was really what it come down to. This is in the hallway in front of the bathroom. I stood there like a totem pole and took it.

She was slamming them damn fists in my face as hard as she could and she wore herself out in short order.

Ten, fifteen seconds of repeated hammer fist to the face. That would tire her out because she was reaching up. She collapsed down to the ground and was crying and apologizing. I’d say she hit me probably 20 times, seemed like more but that is probably what it was, about two punches per second.

I took her by her hand up the steps to the bedroom and fucked the hell out of her. My nose was busted, my lip was bleeding and that’s about all the answers I had at the time. She fell asleep and I went tearin’ ass down to the Hubcap.

I walked in and they said, “Did you get the shit beat out of you?”

And I said, “Pretty much” —she’s pretty and gave it all she had—and I sat down and drank beer.