*While Lenore Zion found the retarded kind and Megan DiLullo stumbled upon the sexy type, I only got the violent one.*

I’ve been punched in the face a lot in my life.  My mouth has often made promises that my body wasn’t quite prepared to defend, but that my ego wouldn’t let me back out of either.  A dangerous grouping those three, the mouth, body, and ego.  They never seem to agree on anything.  Not mine anyway, hence that punching in the face part.

I have a list a mile long of things I’ve done that I shouldn’t have, and that list is only slightly longer than the one of stuff I still do that I shouldn’t.  None of the good stories have ever come from playing it safe.  Not one, which is why I’ve always been so quick to leap into the fray haphazardly.

But those are the actions of the young and invincible, I tell myself.  War should not be waged in the physical ways of my youth, but with intelligence and maturity now.  A cleverly crafted phrase, I try to convince myself, is far more effective than a strong right cross.

And yet somehow, despite the best of intentions, I can’t quite shake my former tendencies.

Like that one night, when I may or may not have beat up a midget.

In my defense, the midget did start it.  I was hanging out after a show late one Saturday night with my regular opening act on the road, a stocky black guy named Sam.  The clinking of ice signaled that we were empty, and we ordered another round of James and Jack and got change for another five.  He and I have had an ongoing competition for years now, feeding dollar after dollar into the mechanical punching bags that bars began installing once they realized that alcohol and testosterone were worth a fortune when combined.

Basically, for fifty cents, a little leather bag drops from the machine and registers how hard you punch it.  It is mindless fun and a matter of bragging rights amongst the guys.  With a healthy buzz, I fed another buck into the machine and swung.  As I connected, I heard a voice behind me say, “You hit like a bitch!”

I immediately turned around.  Maybe it was tunnel vision or maybe I simply didn’t look far enough down, but when I spun to look, no one was there.  I turned back around to swing again, and I was interrupted mid-stride by the same high pitched voice.  “You gonna hit it harder this time?  Pussy.”

That’s when I saw him.  Four foot tall on the dot, there stood the most confident midget I had ever seen in my life.  I leaned forward with my hands on my knees and I looked down at him, squinting at him like I was trying to make out fine print.

“What, bitch?” he said, and threw his arms out to the side.  The stubby limbs hung there, taunting me.  Beckoning me.  Challenging me.

“You can’t do it,” Sam said to me, shaking his head.

“Can’t what?”

“You can’t beat up a midget.  You won’t win.”

“You don’t think I can kick a midget’s ass?” I fired back.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said.  “It’s just that even if you do win… you still kinda lose, man.”

“Brilliant,” I replied, suddenly happy to have been saved from the embarrassment of beating up a midget.  “So what then?”

“You have to be the bigger man.”

“Did you seriously just say that?”

Sam laughed.  “C’mon, man.  Let’s go.”

As we turned for the door we pushed past the angry little dwarf, who wasn’t as content to let things slide as we were.  He pushed his little midget shoulder into my leg and threw down the gauntlet.  “Yeah, you better leave, motherfucker!” he yelled up at us.

“What?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You better leave before you get your ass kicked. Because- “

Now, this is probably where the night turned sideways.  I couldn’t even begin to guess what this little creature’s explanation was going to be for how he planned to hurt me.  His “because” seemed to hang in the air forever.  The only thing I could imagine was that he was going to suddenly pull back a curtain and reveal an entire midget army armed for battle; a thousand tiny goblin soldiers poised to attack with spikes on the tips of their boots and their teeth filed into fangs, while David Bowie sang about a baby.

“Because why?” I asked.

“Because I’m in the UFC,” the midget finally said.

“Unless they paint a number on your chest and the ring girls hold you over their heads between rounds, you’re not in the fucking UFC,” I shot back.

Now you’re allowed to fight him,” Sam said.

I lunged forward, and the midget shot for the door.  I don’t know if you know this or not, because few people do, but midgets are supernaturally fast and they click when they run.  Click click click click click.  Like a beetle.  Click click click.  You can Google it.

“He’s getting away!” I shouted, and pushed my way through the crowd after him.

“Throw your shoe at it!” Sam yelled to me.


“Your shoe!  You never saw Leprechaun?”


“The movie?  With Jennifer Aniston?  Whatever.  If you throw a shoe at a leprechaun, they have to stop and polish it.”

Ridiculous, I thought.  I wasn’t going to beat this thing with mythology.  I didn’t need rumor and folklore; I needed fact.  I had to find a way to do some real damage to this midget.

We made it out through the front door to find the little elf clicking off and away down the sidewalk.  I took off after him on what was, in my drunken mind anyway, a straight line, but was more than likely one of those Jeffy’s dotted line moments from Family Circus.  All I know for certain is that I eventually caught up with him.  As I drew near he turned around and growled at me, little midget juice dripping from its fangs.


The midget’s claim to have a background in mixed martial arts was at least partially true.  In MMA, when an attacker shoots in for a takedown, a standard defense is to “sprawl”, or flatten out forward so that your legs can’t be wrapped up and controlled.  As I got to the little creature, it did just that, except I was in no way actually attempting a takedown.  I just sort of stood there while he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up.

My gut told me to jump up and land on his head, because everyone knows if you do that gold coins come out.  I remember reading that as a child somewhere.  Maybe the Bible.  Then, I remembered how lopsided and misshapen midget heads can be and thought better of it, lest I turn my ankle.

There’s honestly not a lot you can do with a fallen midget.  It’s a sad truth, really.  You can either watch as they try to pick themselves up, which is like watching an upside down turtle struggle, or you can attack.  It seemed unfair to kick him so I dove on top, twisting his leg into an impossible lock.  A leg lock might not sound that impressive, but consider first how hard it is to actually locate a midget’s knee, and the degree of difficulty becomes much more apparent.

By this point, the bouncers had arrived and begun to pull me away.  As I turned to wrestle with them I saw Sam tee off with a vicious right uppercut to the side of the hobbit’s head, easily lifting him three feet off the ground and knocking him backwards.  He landed with a thud and then, beyond all explanation, popped right back up and ran off.

Click click click.

The only explanation is magic.  Midgets can do magic.  Sam’s punch would have knocked a rhinoceros unconscious.  A forty-eight inch man-child couldn’t have survived it, yet somehow he did.  And as that mystical little man clickety-clacked off into the night, my only recourse, since I could no longer reach him physically, was to throw a final verbal blow.

“I hope-” I yelled after him, “I hope you get eaten by an owl!”

Sam and I shook the dust off and made our way back inside.  “I can’t believe I let myself do that,” I said.

“What?  Get in a fight?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I thought I was grown up enough to walk away from it.”

“Well, look at it this way.  At least your last shot wasn’t a physical one.  You gotta start somewhere.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.  Baby steps, right?  Maybe I’m growing up after all.”

“Nah,” Sam said.  “You did just beat up a midget.”

“Shut up and give me a dollar,” I said.  “It’s my turn.”

TAGS: , , , , , ,

SLADE HAM is a stand up comedian. He has performed in 52 countries on six continents, a journey that can be followed in his book, Until All the Dragons Are Dead. One day he hopes to host a travel show and continue to trick the world into paying him to do the things he loves to do. Slade is also an Editor for The Nervous Breakdown's Arts and Culture section. He keeps a very expensive storage unit in Houston, TX.

152 responses to “A Thousand Tiny Goblin Soldiers”

  1. Becky Palapala says:

    Oh my dear God.

    Take your phone off the hook right now, Slade. Right. Now.

    You’re going to have the LPA and that no-nonsense ex-con from Pit Boss on your ass in…minutes.

    “Throw a shoe at it!”


    *dons helmet*

    • Slade Ham says:

      Bring it. I’m pretty sure I can take at least seven of them. The rule is, you can’t get mad if it’s funny 🙂

      • Becky Palapala says:

        I actually think it’s totally appropriate given the relative sensitivity that’s been lurking around here lately. A cunning challenge with which no one is more equipped to deliver than you. I’m all about balance.

        But that doesn’t mean I’m going without this flak jacket. And these goggles. And this riot shield.

        OK GO!

  2. “I hope you get eaten by an owl!”

    Priceless. Where the hell did that come from?

    • Slade Ham says:

      I can only assume the Muses were laughing as hard as I was, and offered up a gift as a thank you.

      The vision of an owl swooping in and flying off with the little man dangling from its claws is hilarious to me.

      • D.R. Haney says:

        I second David. I’m also partial to the Family Circus line. I’m still snickering about Ted McCagg’s cartoon in which Jeffrey ends up in the van of a predator, which any reference to Family Circus will henceforth bring to mind.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Ted is amazing. I have forwarded that cartoon to I don’t know how many people. I thought of it as I wrote the line actually.

          So how goes the editing, my friend? You’ve surfaced, if only momentarily, so I assume it’s all going well…

        • I concur. Ted makes me laugh a lot! I’d love to see him illustrate this post…

          I’ve never read Family Circus before so I’m not really sure about that reference.

        • Slade Ham says:

          I was gonna Google you an example, but it’s harder to find than I thought.

        • D.R. Haney says:

          To belatedly answer your question, Slade, it looks like I’m done, as per The Feed.

          Meanwhile, your post caused me to Google, and I came up with this result, which you might find interesting:


          It’s hit or miss, but when it hits, it’s pretty fucking funny.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Well then, first a congratulations. It must be nice to be finished.

          Second, those cartoons – the good ones anyway – are hilarious. I love recaptioning. What a perfect target one panel comics are. It’s that perfectly sick kind of humor that I;m such a fan of too…

          Good eye.

  3. I don’t even know where to being with this one… but it’s apparent that the counter-Leprechaun axiom also is true:

    If a midget throws a punch at Slade, he has to stop and polish it.

    • Slade Ham says:

      It’s scary to that someone might try to use this information against me one day. Slade’s coming! Throw the midgets at him!

      Now that I think about it, I would make a much better vehicle for Jennifer Aniston than that Leprechaun film… The word play there totally intended 🙂

  4. I think you and that buddy of yours should have your own show: Sam & Ham. You two were funny as hell. I don’t know how strong your right cross is, Slade, but your cleverly crafted phrases sure kicked my ass.

    • Slade Ham says:

      Sam and I have been all over the world together. He’s a beast of a comic. As for the punching, I’m sure I don’t hold a candle to the TNBers with training. Erika Rae can probably put me to shame 🙂

      And Uche, too.

      And maybe even Matt, hahaha.

    • dwoz says:

      Leprechaun with huevos and Ham.

      Dr. Seuss would be proud.

  5. Matt says:

    Okay, any story that starts with “I’ve been punched in the face a lot in my life” is going to be interesting, if not necessarily dignified for the teller.

    I did not, however, expect this.


    If there’s anything to karma, you’re going to have a Terror of Tiny Town on your ass before too long.

    • Slade Ham says:

      Admittedly, my battle stories lack the professional moves of a good Matt Baldwin fight, I know, hahaha. Regarding your theory, maybe the midget was a really bad person, and Karma sent ME in response to HIS wrongs. That’s the optimist in me talking…

      At least the story didn’t go where you were expecting 🙂

      • Matt says:

        Actually, now I’m expecting a series: Slade Ham’s Punched in the Face Tales, or something along those lines. Hell, your next album could be concept record centered around the theme!

        You might just be right about the Karma thing, too.

        • Slade Ham says:

          You know, it’s funny that you say that. I entertained a similar thought about a one man show, but my buddy Titus has beaten me to the punch. He has several scars and is going through the stories of how he got them. Or he will be anyway, once he’s through with this current show.

          I like being Karma’s hit man btw. There may be something to that idea…

  6. Sam says:

    My hand STILL hurts from how hard I cracked that little bastard. Midget heads are made of Granite.

  7. Zara Potts says:

    I feel kind of guilty for laughing at this!

    I started laughing at the punch bag machine, because they had one at the One Eyed Penguin, right? Just above where Richrob was throwing down his dance moves? So many things to laugh about! Ahahaha.

    I don’t think I’ve ever had a fight with a midget. I always seem to have scraps with giants. I once broke the nose of giantess. It was very satisfying.

    Your lines in this are superb, Slade. Thanks for starting my day with funny!

    • Slade Ham says:

      Oh, Z… you will not be alone in the masses that are afraid to laugh. It’s healthy. There’s no harm in the telling of the story. I’m sure the midget’s version is just as funny, as he makes fun of us Averages (that’s what they call us).

      And they DID have a punching game at the Penguin. There’s a picture of Rich hitting it somewhere. I should have outdanced the midget. What a better story it would be then.

      Zara and Goliath. I like that.

      Did you hit her with your fist, or with your sling and a shiny stone from the river?

      • Zara Potts says:

        I guess I would be a Below Average according to a midget..

        As for Goliath – I hit her with my fist. Oh, what a terror I was.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Nope, we’re all Averages according to a very good friend of mine that is a dwarf. Anything over five feet. Or four whatever. All the way up.

          And good for you. Connecting with a well thrown punch feels too good sometimes 🙂 So I hear…

          Who started it?

        • Zara Potts says:

          She did. I can’t remember exactly how but she was very annoying and she was one of those mean girls. I was pretty tiny back then and I think she thought she could use stand over tactics on me. Silly girl. I had two rugby playing uncles who had been teaching me how to throw a punch since I was five. So I just went ahead and socked her one of the nose.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Big people think little people can’t hurt them. How wrong they are.

          Of course, as I learned that night outside the bar, sometimes little people think the same thing about big people, which also proved to be incorrect…

      • Irene Zion says:

        I’m with you, Slade!
        You have to learn to laugh at everything or life will suck you right down a black hole.

        I myself have been through the whole thing before with Lenore’s story. People are jerks sometimes and what is politically correct can take all the fun out of anything.

        I’m proud of you all the time.
        You make people laugh who need to laugh to survive.
        God bless you, Silly named guy!

  8. I remember practically falling off my chair and spitting coffee on you when you first told me this story. This is even better. I love this story.

    As for the sensitivity of this issue… just because you’re a midget doesn’t give you license to be an asshole nor does it exempt you from the repercussions of your actions.

    I think we may have to change your title from Dragon-slayer to Midget-Slayer.

    I’m only saying…

    • Slade Ham says:

      The sensitivity issue bothers me. I don’t think there’s anything overtly hateful towards anyone other than that particular midget in this (except maybe the phrase “midget juice”).

      The guy was dick, and I paint him as such. My goal was to make him evil and demon-y, the way I remember him. The live version of this is quite fun, as you well remember 🙂

      Midget-Slayer has such a negative connotation, hahaha, though it WOULD make for a great movie…

      • Becky Palapala says:


        See. I’m dying over here.

        Because while I’m not offended by this, I know what is, technically, academically, offensive about it.

        But since no one else seems to care, I don’t want to get into it and ruin the funny.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Oh, Becky. When has that ever stopped you? Is it the fact that it’s technically possibly racist? I need a good discussion. Let’s go. Chop chop. Spit it out! 🙂

        • Becky Palapala says:

          Well part of the reason I don’t want to get into it is that I don’t feel particularly strongly about it. Like, I’m not here going, “How dare you!” Because, at the end of the day, I’m not PC, either.

          But. If you insist:

          It’s the dehumanization. What if you were chasing a black guy? “Throw a shoe at it! He has to shine it!”

          I mean.

          Holy shit.

          I mean.

          Faaaahhhhk. You can’t say that shit.

          If someone were to come in with a real bone pick about it, you’d find yourself in that predicament. Trying to justify why it’s okay in this case and not in others. I don’t know that it’s racist, since I don’t think midgets are an ethnicity or cultural group, but it’s some kind of something in that general vein.

          I mean, in the veritable soup of gender and race and sexuality cards that is American political zeitgeist, no one’s pulling the midget card? I am confused! And my riot gear is very hot for this weather!

          The only explanation is that you, Slade, are magic.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          For example, you made the last 15 minutes of my work day magically disappear.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Magic indeed 🙂

          I actually agree with you, though I disagree. I mean, I agree with your take what I’ve done, I just don’t think it’s wrong. I suppose “midget” technically is a race, assuming the definition of race is a group of people that share unique genetic traits.

          Still, I get angry when I am expected to live in a world I have to pretend not to see differences. There is a trend in America where people want to pretend that people are not different. We are.

          The trick is to not let it influence your actions. I’m a perfectly healthy guy with 20/20 vision. To have the audacity to even ACT like I don;t notice skin color, or height, or weight in other people is fucking ridiculous.

          I do notice. What I don’t accept is any insinuation that possessing any of those traits makes anyone a bad person. We’re just different, and I’m aware. I crack jokes about Sam being black. About me being white. Or people being fat. Or others being male or female or broke or rich or skinny or whiny or a million other things.

          So the midget? I stand behind all of my words. He was a bad person that happened to be a midget. He wasn’t a bad person because he was a midget. I describe him the way I saw him, like I would have if he’d had curly hair or if he’d been super tall.

        • Becky says:

          This is why I didn’t want to say anything.

          You’re preaching to the choir. I agree.

          I’m just surprised none of the congregation is shocked. That’s what I was bracing for. And now I’m sort of disappointed that I got all excited for nothing.

        • Matt says:

          Fine. I’ll do it.


          That work?

        • Becky says:

          Sooooooo unconvincing, Matt.

          Besides, “Dwarf” is offensive, too. If you were REALLY in the know, you’d know it’s “short-statured” and/or Little People/LPs.


          What’s the world come to when a conservative has to school the liberals on PC usage? Next thing you know, the best rapper in the world will be white.

          Cats and dogs, living together…MASS HYSTERIA!

        • Slade Ham says:

          @ Becky – Well, MY midget friend prefers the term “dwarf”. I have another friend that calls them Shetland People.

          @ Matt – The chosen name thing is such a bullshit argument. Again, coming back to my particular friend, he calls non-dwarf people Averages. Should I not find that insulting? I mean I could, but would that negate his ability to refer to me like that? It’s a word. It’s not derogatory. There’s no malice behind it when I say it.

          Well, outside of this story anyway.

          We’re such a hyper-sensitive bunch of pussies. I mean, I know your CAPS tirade was in jest, but there are people that legitimately get incensed over these things.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          OH! And I suppose your friend is the Emperor of the Lollipop Guild!

        • Slade Ham says:

          No… I’M Emperor. Someone crowned me that recently, didn’t they? I don’t remember who. They don’t matter anyway. I matter. Emperor of Everything.

          Including lollipops.

          My friend really is a dwarf though, and for a shot of Patron he will ride his scooter over and punch anyone you want in the balls. It’s awesome.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          Is your friend Wee Man?

          I’m pretty sure all little people are Wee Man.

          Like to see him try to pull that shit with me, though. I’d knock him over AND take his patron.

          Just kidding.

          I don’t drink tequila.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Funny how it’s not the lack of testicles that makes this untrue, but your distaste for tequila. Odd 🙂

        • Becky Palapala says:

          I have cleverly hidden my testicles are in Richard’s purse.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          Shit! Fuck! I ruined the joke with a snafu!

          Oh, my life is over. This sucks so much. Fix it, Slade!

        • Slade Ham says:

          You did. You cleverly hid a verb in your joke. You clever hider you.

        • Richard Cox says:

          All your snafu are belong to Becky.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          Someday we will be in the same room together, Slade. I will not forget this. You mark my words.

          I know where your balls are, and they’re not in Richard’s purse.

        • Slade Ham says:

          “All your snafu are belong to Becky.”

          Best comment in the history of ever.

          No one should ever be allowed to comment on anything ever again.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          Okay, so maybe your balls ARE in his purse.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Suck it, Becky.

        • Becky Palapala says:

          You guys are fuckin’ hetero life partners.

          Do you hold hands?

        • Slade Ham says:


          Becky called me and Richard gay. But in a straight way.


        • Richard Cox says:

          Mommmmmmmmm!!! Becky won’t stop bothering me!!!1111!!111

        • Slade Ham says:

          This is where she types, “I’m not touching you!”

        • Richard Cox says:

          I originally typed “touching” instead of “bothering” but I figured that was the path to the Dark Side.

        • Slade Ham says:

          Clearly, we’re already well across the border into the Dark Side.

        • Simon Smithson says:

          I don’t know who’s crossing the border into whose Dark Side, but are you guys sharing a hotel bed again?

        • Simon Smithson says:

          ‘Great shot, kid! One in a million!’

  9. Jude says:

    Why is your life filled with such hilarious moments? Keep the stories coming. Laughing – it’s a great way to start the day.

    Midgets clicking as they run, gold coins spewing from their heads, leprechauns having to polish shoes thrown at it… and then this line which just cracked me up – “I just sort of stood there while he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up”.

    Oh dear I’m gonna go to hell!

  10. Joe Daly says:

    My gut told me to jump up and land on his head, because everyone knows if you do that gold coins come out. I remember reading that as a child somewhere. Maybe the Bible.

    See- this is why I love reading your stuff.

    Another thing I dig is the titles of your pieces- it’s like I see the title and start laughing before I get to the first paragraph. Across a Frozen Sea is a particular favorite.

    This is typically hilarious- especially the taunts you lay into him as the story progresses. The owl comment at the end is the piece de resistance.

    Well fucking done, man. If I ever find myself at odds with a midget, I’m going to let him know that I’m bros with you.

    • Slade Ham says:

      I spend far more time picking the titles than I should, but I think they’re important. Thanks for noticing 🙂

      And if you ever have midget problems, I’m your man. Megan has even retitled me because of it. I need to incorporate. Maybe even get Ray Parker Jr. to do a theme song.

  11. Richard Cox says:

    I thought for sure you were going for a quick Top Gun joke in the first paragraph. You know, your ego is writing checks your body can’t cash. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that you left it alone.

    Anyway, this was fucking funny. And it reminded of the One Eyed Penguin, as ZaraPotts mentioned.

    And when the midget first appeared, I thought he was going to challenge you to a punching bag contest, which led me to wonder if someone was going to have to hold him up, or if he was going to stand on a chair, because clearly the bag would be out of the reach of his stubby little arms.

    Regarding Becky’s question about segments of the population you can or can’t make fun of, I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the relative size of the group you’re targeting. I mean, it used to be more okay to make fun of fat people, but now that almost everyone is overweight, that brand of humor has been voted out of office. In a manner of eating. I mean speaking.


  12. Erika Rae says:

    How you managed to work Family Circus into the midst of this is beyond genius. Laughing so hard I’m crying. “I hope you get eaten by an owl.” Oh my God.

    Back in my Evangelical days, I went to a huge metaphysical fair in the city arena for the purpose of witnessing. Halfway through, somewhere near the chakra realignment tables and aura reading booth, I heard this strange little voice behind me and turned around to find a 4-ft man with bright red hair and (I swear to God) pointy ears. He was also wearing silver lame bellbottoms and platform boots. I thought he was a demon. Nope. No punchline. And anyway, you would have thought so, too.

    • Slade Ham says:

      Did I tell a version of this when you guys saw me? I can’t remember, though I think Megan did see it…

      He had pointy ears? Hahahahaha. There is no punchline necessary. Those are the best kind of stories. Were you able to convert the demon?

  13. Lisa Rae Cunningham says:

    Slade, you are a social miscreant. I fucking love it.
    Do you know there is a midgetville in New Jersey? You can drive through the neighborhood — all the houses are built Keebler elf style. Sometimes the little people get pissed at the voyeurs and throw shit at slow-going cars.
    Also, where are these bars with mechanical punching bags? That’s awesome. And a lot safer than hate sex with a stranger.

    • Slade Ham says:

      Lisa, you have no idea the depths of my depravity… hahaha. Hated sex with strangers is one of life’s rare pleasures. Never try to replace that with a mere punching bag. It’s an accesory, not a substitute.



      I will buy a ticket to New Jersey tomorrow. I have to see this. Now.

      • Lisa Rae Cunningham says:

        Uhh, I think the depths of your depravity were sufficiently illustrated by the skull-crushing bobble-heard leprechaun motif that results in a jackpot of gold coins. I prefer hate sex with people I know. I find it more invigorating to REALLY fucking hate the person. I just don’t feel that strongly about people I can only hate via the usual stereotyping and alcohol abuse.

        And, yes. I’m sure you can consult Weird New Jersey for exacting details, but if memory serves, Midgetville is in Englewood Cliffs or thereabouts. Manhattan burbs. So, next time you’re in NYC…

        • Lisa Rae Cunningham says:

          (bobble-head. as you know. i soothe my OCD this way.)

        • Slade Ham says:

          Oh, I have to know them well enough to hate them, I just have the ability to hate someone reeeeeeally quickly.

        • dwoz says:

          Forgive my voyeurism here, but how, exactly, does Hate Sex work? I mean, I am probably ok for you to skip the mechanics of it…but how does that work? Strange to be my age and asking this question…

        • Slade Ham says:

          Oh, I’m sure LRC can explain better than me…

          Or at the very least, it will be more interesting to read.

      • Jude says:

        I thought I’d posted this so if it comes up twice, please delete.

        Talking about communities, try this …

        • Slade Ham says:

          Ya know, you can’t expect a lot of sympathy from me when:

          “Now the group has turned itself into a tourist attraction by building mushroom houses and living and dressing like fairy tale characters.”


  14. Lenore says:

    what an angry little person. i’ve learned recently that i am not allowed to use the other word. i have to say little person, otherwise i’ve offended a bunch of sissies. i’m glad the heat’s on you now, sucker.

    • Slade Ham says:

      I am shocked that you have abandoned the word “midget”. You’re not the Lenore I thought you were…

      I’ll happily take the heat. Alone.

      • Lenore says:

        hey man. i’m just trying to make the sissies happy. the happier the sissies are, the less noise i have ringing in my ears. they’ve defeated me.

        • Slade Ham says:

          I would rather go out with my ears bleeding…

        • Lenore says:

          bottom line: i really dislike talking to people who get offended by dumb shit. therefore i will avoid offending them, which makes them less inclined to speak to me, thus cleansing my life of mewling irritants.

  15. Dana says:

    OMG Slade – you’re an evil, evil man. But in this case you did the right thing.

    “I hope you get eaten by an owl!” Very possibly the best line ever.

  16. Ashley Menchaca (NOLAdy) says:

    Holy shit! I laughed the whole way through this.
    What a great way to start my morning!

    I wonder what that says about me?…

    • Slade Ham says:

      What does it say about you? It say that you’re as broken as the rest of us. This comment board is starting to read like the guest list at Club Hell.

      Thanks for the repost on Facebook btw.

  17. Simon Smithson says:

    This is why you’re so fucking good at the punching bag thing! You hustled us!

    Over here I don’t know what the PC term is. I do know that a man of shorter than average stature by genetics (that’s gotta be airtight) makes a living hiring himself out to bars. He runs up and down the bar top, pouring Jager into people’s mouths.

    2007 was a sweet, sweet New Year’s Eve.

  18. Jeffrey Pillow says:

    You cold, heartless bastard. You beat up a midget? Man, you’re going to hell for sure; you, and this guy I know from high school who had sex with a midget girl for $150.

  19. JM Blaine says:

    I hear there’s a TNBook
    imprint these days
    & if the powers that
    be are fool enough
    to pass you up
    then shame on them
    because for all our prattle
    this is the stuff that sells right here.
    Right here.

    I’ve met a lot of bully midgets/cripples/half-wits.
    Like what are you really gonna do?
    With midgets it’s not necessary to beat them up
    You bear hug them and tickle til they pee their pants.
    Worse than an ass beating, for sure.

    Unless its a sexy midget
    with a tickle fetish.

    • Slade Ham says:

      How nice it would be to one day put all of these stories in real print. It’s an obvious goal, so hopefully one day… I definitely have a lot of them. Your words, as always, make me happy.

      To tickle until they pee… where were YOU when I needed you? Such a better ending to the story if I had.

      Next time, midget. Next time.

  20. Andrew Nonadetti says:

    Dude. I was already wiping away tears at “he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up.” And then you nailed me with “I hope you get eaten by an owl!” My stomach hurts.

    Now… where do I send the Jameson’s?

  21. Gloria says:

    I finally read this. And I laughed my ass off. I promise to say my Hail Mary’s and flog myself because dear lord, did I laugh.

    Look, the little fucker provoked you and then taunted you and then relentlessly pursued you. And even if he had been 7 foot 9, he would have still been in the wrong.

    Plus, your retelling is fucking hilarious.

  22. JerryWayne says:

    “while David Bowie sang about a baby.” this single line had me in tears. That is just fantastic.

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