A long time ago I played a regular Monday night gig at a PIZZA restaurant in a suburb of Chicago. GEORGE was a regular there---and a loudmouth. (He also played a bass drum at the Chicago White Sox baseball games---and drove Sox broadcaster, Jim Piersall, nuts with his constant pounding on his drum---supposedly in support of the ball team. I recall Piersall saying, "Damn, I'm gonna kill that drummer Boy!")

Anyhow, George was standing right in front of me with his back to me. I was on the raised stage, and he was almost yelling (talking?)at the people sitting around the front table. The table was covered by several large pizzas.

I'd had it up to here with George!! I lifted my leg and pushed him, VERY hard. He went sprawling on his stomach sliding across the table on all of those greasy pizzas. He looked like a crab flailing his arms and legs as he slid.

Bottom line, the boss gave me an extra $20.00 for provoking George to proclaim that he would NEVER be back again!

Ah, fond memories!

Art Thieme