ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A seasoned grogman of local fame has stolen the show yet again this afternoon down at the Royal Commercial Railway Hotel in the Old City, showing off a bit of Wim Hof to the young fellas.
Peter Cope, a semi-retired building inspector from the French Quarter, made the mistake of piggishly stuffing himself with mainstream lager and Blue John Player Special at the same time.
Cruelly, the dreaded hiccups caught up on him as he was retelling a funny story to a group of young blokes.
“So anyway, we go ’round to Red John’s flat [hiccup] [hiccup] Oh fuck me,” recounted Peter to some of The Advocate’s printing press workers and our reporter.
“We call him Red John because he’s a [hiccup] fucking leftie. Good bloke, he loved [hiccup] Gough [hiccup] the cunt. Anyway, we go over to his flat and my friend Wal is absolutely roasted on [hiccup] magic mushrooms. I can tell this now because [hiccup] Red John and Wally [hiccup] are dead,”
“Oh, fuck these huccups.”
Peter looked pained, like he’d just eaten a full slab of Turkish bread as quick as he could.
“So anyway, Red John lived on the the [hiccup] 9th floor of the Parkview Building up there in the French Quarter [hiccup],” he said.
“He had this dog, a pug or something weird, anyway [hiccup] Wal was tripping something else so he went out on the balcony for a bit to get some air [hiccup].”
Peter stops himself and employs the old Wim Hof technique. He holds his breath, taking turns to make and hold uncomfortable eye contact with the blokes listening to him.
After a minute or so, Peter shoots out a violet blast of rancid air from his deepest lung sacs.
“Ohhh Christ [hiccup] Fuck this. So Red John puts his dog out there on the balcony with Wal [hiccup] and Wal just freaks out. Red John had is back turned to the whole thing but I saw Wal pick this dog up. I’ve run out there yelling [hiccup] don’t throw the dog off the balcony and Wal’s just looked at me like I’m crazy. Red John, too. Wal’s just said, ‘Mate, what are you on about? I’m just giving him a pat, mate,’ and Red John told me to leave, yeah, it’s a bit of an [hiccup] an anti-climax but yeah,”
“Oh, thank fuck, I think these goddamn hiccups are [hiccup] gone. Fuck!”
More to come.