It seems somebody’s been having a little fun in the bathroom at our favorite watering hole. It happened like this, see…

The Dude was standing there relieving himself one night and started to feel a little nostalgic about the days when we were all together. Those were the days, alright. Good times. Sensing a chance to pay homage to yours truly, his dudeness added a ‘lil sum-sum right above the toilet. It simply read, “I miss ‘Ol Timber”, a not-so-vague reference to another Raven regular, ‘Ol Stabby. Short, but sweet. But if there’s one thing Raven clientele has no respect for, it’s others’ musings. After the jump, some shit you simply have to see to believe…

Here’s what was waiting for the Dude the following week:

FUCK TIMBER. ‘OL STABBY FOR LIFE, BITCH!

Now that’s simply uncalled for. Here we have the Dude, just trying to do right by his old four-legged pal, and some window-licker has to step in and spoil the party. That really irritated Mylephnt, who understandably was offended by such foul language. He took it upon himself to strike back. And strike back he did. Playing off yet another Stabby reference, he penned:

I DON’T GET ANGRY, I GET TIMBERED

Yeeeeeeah….fuck ‘em up, Leph. That should have been the end of it. But nawwww. Stabby don’t know when to quit. The Dude’s next visit to the Raven turned up this little gem:

Bravo, sir. You truly are a renaissance man. The way you so gracefully threatened my life while simultaneously offending a large portion of this city’s population is something to behold. You intolerant mouth-breather. You low down, dirty, snitchin’, Miller Lite-swilling, trust-fund baby. I swear to everything that is holy…if I ever find you, I’m going fuck a hole in the pant leg of your prized $140 Seven jeans, just as I’m dropping a hot turd on your Pumas.

But you know what? I don’t have to worry about all that. Why? Because I gots peoples. That’s right…I gots peoples. Do you gots peoples? Eh? Eh? Do ya? Nah…I didn’t think so. You see…while I’m out here enjoying the warm California sun, my peoples are in your ass. Yeah, you heard me. Right. In. Yo. Ass.

See…even though the Dude didn’t have a Sharpie on him that fateful night…and even though the following weekend most of the Ramble crew were celebrating ‘Ol Elbows getting hitched to his beautiful bride in Milwaukee (way to go, E!), there was one Rambler who stayed behind and handled shit on my behalf. And that Rambler is Earthquake. Upon receiving his orders via text message, our favorite purveyor of songs that get stuck in our heads stepped into the Raven, pounded a High-Life, went straight back to the bathroom, and unsheathed his weapon.

The size: King. The tip: Broad. The color: Black. And he took care of business. Oh man, did he take care of business.

And then he took out a marker and made the following corrections:

Unnnhhhh. Yeah. Take that, Stabby.

Lemme explain something to you. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me. Buuuuuuut, I’m kind of a big deal. I’ve been places you’ve never dreamed of. I’ve hiked more mountains, ridden more rapids and banged more strays then you’ve ever seen in your life. I’M TIMBER SMITH. I made my bones while you were at AU studying modern political thought and hooking up with JMU skanks at Lucky Bar.

Yeah, I’ve relocated to the west coast. Don’t matter none. I still have sway over these here parts. In the MP, I run shit. It’s that simple. Let me sum it for you real nice like: People know me. And people respect me. So don’t think for one second that you can waltz into the Raven, flash a Sharpie…and make me nervous.

Now get the fuck out of that back booth.