Lightning Never Strikes Twice

Track of the day - Punch drunk - Bela Fleck.

Grandmother Bogs told me that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Being a simple soul I have optimistically carried on believing her words for the last fifty odd years and a few even years too.
Granny B had obviously never visited the Hole in the Ground bar here in the leafy suburbs of Bogsville.

I trotted along there at nine thirty last night, determined to show the assembled Friday night few that I was not going to be intimidated by a crowd of fat bellied, soccer shirted, mindless morons.
I stood there in the almost empty front bar, just a few steps from the safety of the main exit doors.
To my right, four men were laughing about something or other. It wasn't normal relaxed laughter. It was the forced, full volume laughter that drunks who want to be noticed specialise in.
I moved away as far as possible and ended up in the fireplace.
I suppose I'd been in the bar for all of five minutes when the forced laughter turned to pushing and shoving. One guy lashed out, sending one of the group sprawling into the heavy round table that I'd made sure was between them and me.
I stood there in the fireplace and watched in total disbelief as further scenes from Dante's Inferno were staged for my benefit.
Unfortunately centre stage was right in front of the exit doors. I was trapped.
The sign on the wall read,
"Pig Race - Tues
Pool Tournament - Thurs
Play Your Cards Right - Fri/Sat/Sun."
As far as I can see it's Battling Morons - every bloody night of the week.

There'll be one less in the audience from now on. I'm out of there.