GetzTFO

Ok children, gather around, Holy Bartender has a little story to tell you.

They're all coming to Getz you!

Once upon a time there was a dashing and heroic bartender. Men and women alike swooned over the mere rock pool reflections of his visage left deep in the cavern of their memories. One day our glorious hero was driving around in his Holy Bartendmobile when he came upon a chump faced cleft rash driving a Hyundai Getz. Now I know what you’re thinking, why would our beloved champion do something as dangerous as knowingly drive behind a Getz? Instead of doing what my dear angels? That’s right, pulling over quickly and registering the number plate with ASIO. For as we all know, Getz drivers are terrorists disguised as douche bags, as much without the cognitive capacity as they are the motor skills required to safely taxi aforementioned death traps around our fair state.

It was because the mighty bartender feared not Hyundai Getz drivers; for he knew that he could count on his own incredibly honed, finely tuned skills and reflexes to save him in the event Getz driver passed out at the wheel because it forgot to breathe, or something equally as fucking dense. 

Children, what happened next was a surprise to all but our amazing, holy ragamuffin. Insufferable chode aka Getz pilot slowed down all traffic to 15kms a mc-fucking-fortnight for two city blocks. Then, before turning right slowly and without indication, Getz fuck-wit felt it necessary to disallow others from overtaking it by moving closer to the left side of the street. 

Well, wasn’t our hero lucky. If it were another kind of car our bartending protagonist may have been forced into a position where he’d have had to last second flip his Bartendmobile over the offending car so as not to smash and obliterate both parties, the wreckage left to catch alight and explode taking out all bystanders and setting fire to local houses, burning people alive and causing millions of dollars in damages. Yet it was not the case in this instance. Due to our champion's knowledge of the Getz driver psyche, danger and damage were avoided with a simple application of the brake and horn, accompanied by a releasing of the middle digit and loud shouts of insults and curses.

So my lovelies to bring us to the end of our story time, the Holy Bartender managed to live to bar tend another day. Nimble like the mongoose, he swiftly dodged the insufferable simpleton Getz driver, in turn saving a good portion of the streets of our states capital from an inferno so fierce it'd be matched only by our hero's absolute and unwavering contempt for incompetent fuck wits.

A side note, to the obtuse, face roller in question: Thwarted Getz driver. Thwarted. If you wanted to cause an automotive apocalypse, like the rest of your auto-anti-Christ kind would lead me to believe, you could have just pulled over and started systematically shooting on coming cars with a high calibur weapon. It seriously would have been more effective. Where ever you are, you will slip up again, and by the power of Grayskull I will be there. I will be there with my man the pipe hittin, gang bangin possum. It and it's passel are going to mess you up. ...Not in a romantic way.


Holy Bartender