Last night I almost got my ass kicked by a giant 6-foot tall cigar-smoking care bear.

It was Cheer Bear, I believe.

Dude, honestly, when are people gonna learn that we are awesome at flippy cup? I mean, we literally walked around this party challenging people, and once we finally scrounged up some opposing players we just dominated. Cheer Bear was all, "Fuck you guys, this is bullshit, I'm gonna go get my A-Team."

We're all, "Bring it."

So of course we kick their asses. Not even a competition, really. And the best part about it: we were horrible. I averaged like three flips: what is my problem? What happened to my game?

Even so, we worked it, and destroyed this "A Team" about six times in fifteen minutes (with Slinger chugging full beers as the anchor, because he's a rock star) and Cheer Bear FLIPS*. Starts challenging us to a match, trying to bet like three thousand dollars that he can beat all of us by himself with full beers and blablablablablah.

I believe I said something like, "Dude, it's just a game. A game that we always win, but a game nonetheless." The rest of the Cupbusters (which is what I will call our Halloween Team of Ghostbusters characters) made similar statements.

Then Cheer Bear yells at Slinger, and I am paraphrasing, "Dude, you need to control your fucking bitches." Although that was not his exact word choice, I definitely heard the words "control," "your," and "bitches."

I was furious. I yelled at him and went out to the garage for a cigarette, pissed off and shaking. Cheer Bear walks in about two minutes later and yells something at me, and being completely belligerent and willing to defend my flippy cup teams until the day I die, I start yelling at him. I know I said something along the lines of, "How do you know my team isn't full of my bitches?" as a sort of joke, but then it just got completely out of hand.

Life would be way cooler if I could remember the conversation, but I'm guessing it was all, "What the fuck is your problem?" "What the fuck is my problem? What the fuck is your problem?"

I haven't gotten into a serious yelling match since the Augustana wrestling team wouldn't leave Clay's house, which was more than three years ago. But this guy just pissed me off. He was leaning down towards me, inches from my nose, spitting his words onto my face. So I hold up my hand and say very calmly, "Dude, you are spitting on me. Take a step back. Do you think you're intimidating me right now? Do you think I'm afraid of you?"

Then Cheer Bear goes through like care bear menopause, and starts yelling, and this is not paraphrasing, "I've hit a fucking girl before and I'm not fucking afraid to do it again."

"Man, you sound like a gem."

"Bitch."

I about lunged at him, proton pack and all, and Mary Stewart Masterson jumps in between us to calm me down. (This is how you know I was out of control: MSM was the voice of reason.)

Cheer Bear left, and apparently he went in the backyard and jumped the fence and ran away.

...