Tiny Flag

This week History Bros isn’t taking money from an advertiser, like Mazda (Zoom-Zoom-Bada-Boom-Dingaling-Bing-Bong), but rather we’d like to draw attention to a serious medical issue facing some brave souls in this country: brachymetatarsia. Brachymetatarsia is a debilitating condition when one of the five long bones in the foot is unusually short, generally the fourth toe, and occurs in both feet. Sometimes, for some fucked up reason, it only occurs in one foot, making it all that more apparent when wearing sandals. People with this sinister genetic disability face cringe-inducing questions like: “What the hell happened to your toe?” or the common “Ah, that’s super weird!” Sometimes it hurts when a sufferer runs; other times it hurts emotionally when someone stares at it. Brachymetatarsia: Be aware, don’t stare.

And in a terrible segue, please welcome our guest, Francis Scott Key!

FSK: Ah, what happened to your toe!?

HB: You owned slaves!

FSK: Touché.

HB: Frank, you were inspired by the American flag still standing after the barrage at Fort McHenry in 1814 by the British, and subsequently wrote The Star-Spangled Banner. What moved you?

FSK: I was actually inspired by how small the flag was. Like, one of those flags you put on your desk or a free one given out by the local VFW on Memorial Day.

HB: Ah, no shit! That tiny?

FSK: Yeah, super tiny. And there were bets going around amongst the British about which boat’s cannon crew could hit it first.

HB: Like a game of HORSE with a tiny desk flag and metal objects that can kill someone?

FSK: Exactly. If it weren’t for the douchy competitiveness amongst the British, we may have lost that battle, possibly the war.

HB: “Oh, say can you see…”

FSK: Right, right! Can YOU see it? I can’t. It’s like a little dot in the distance.

HB: So it was classic irony?

FSK: Yeah, I was in this phase of writing poetry that was more avant-garde. “Whose broad stripes and bright stars…” They weren’t broad. Right? It was a tiny flag!

HB: Yeah, I get it. Pushing the boundaries and reading between the lines.

FSK: “O’er the land of the free…” Again, it’s a tiny flag, so that’s funny. Plus, I owned slaves, so who’s free? It’s classic irony. You pointed that out earlier… Can I share a new one I’m working on?

HB: Be my guest.

FSK: Ok, this is titled, “Beneath my feet are the dead”

HB: Wow, that’s super deep.

FSK: “Don’t, pause, stop, until I’m dead. Breaking sun, moon, all in red. Blood. Death. Where is my mother…”

HB: That’s great, Frank.

FSK: There’s more.

HB: No, I get it.

FSK: Your toe’s weird.

HB: Get the fuck out of here. Again, you owned slaves!

FSK: Your toe’s like a tiny flag.

HB: Your mom’s a tiny flag! Get out!

Shape Up or Ship Out

Today’s Bastille Day episode is sponsored by Perrier. Perrier, if you can’t drink water like an adult and need some coaxing so your pee isn’t hot neon yellow. Perrier, expensive fart water. We have a bushel of Perrier on site, which means I’m now passing gas like I just ate at The Melting Pot without actually eating any solid food. The Melting Pot, relive prom night with warm cheese! That’s a free plug The Melting Pot – you’re welcome. I’ll see you in a mall.

Speaking of malls, our guest just came back from a shopping spree and is sporting some sweet new casual street shoes.  Jacques de Flesselles! Unfortunate casualty on July 14^th, 1789! The last provost of the merchants of Paris! You look homeless from the ankle down!

HB: I like the kicks, Jacques!

JF: Merci! They’re Shape Ups, so I can look cool AND tighten my core.

HB: Great! Hey, I’m so sorry you were shot and decapitated.

JF: That’s ok. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong provost of the merchants.

HB: And you had come from a middle-class family, pulled yourself up to a higher tier, only to be murdered by the rabble.

JF: I tried. Took out some loans, went to Paris State, where I majored in finance and sports science, and then joined up with the local fraternity chapter of La Petit Mort.

HB: Like jizz?

JF: Wasn’t my idea. They had the connections to become a royalist.

HB: Means to an end via semen. Nah, I get it. What did you parents do?

JF: My dad was your typical middle-class Frenchman: worked as a line cook at The Melting Pot, which is basically heating up cheese in a pot. And my mom, ironically, was the hostess. Decent gigs.

HB: Ah, fuck! That’s why I was thinking about The Melting Pot…

JF: It mainly caters to high school pre-dance dinners and uncles taking their nephews out for a nice meal.

HB: I’m aware. Anyway, so you were just hanging out and you got cut down at the onset of the revolution? Bummerz.

JF: Yeah, all these angry dudes were like, “Where the guns at fancy boy?” And I was wearing some shoes with buckles on it, not these Shape Ups, so they fucking shot me. Whatever, I feel if I had on different shoes they wouldn’t have murdered me and put my head on a stick.

HB: Or they would’ve taken your shoes and some random dude would be storming the Bastille with a pair of Skechers Shape Ups on.

JF: You hungry?

HB: Yeah, I could eat.

JF: Go to the Pot? My mom’s working a double.

HB: Sure, I’ll carry your head.

Game Night!

This week’s guest, his second appearance, is fan favorite and prominent military adviser Miles Standish. Miles, as we all remember, was an English military officer hired to oversee the settlement of the Plymouth Colony by the Puritans in the early 17^th century. Little known fact about Miles: he’s an avid board game fan and Officer of Fun at the colony. Miles has been so kind as to sponsor this episode with his own patented game: Stick N’ Stick. Stick N’ Stick, who’s stick goes farther? Hard work and sheer grit will tell for this game of labor and unrelenting perseverance. Stick N’ Stick! For ages infant to 32! Push that stick with the your other stick! Stick N’ Stick. Livestock or Autumn corn harvest acceptable payment methods. Stick out with your friends with Stick N’ Stick.

HB: Miles, good to have you back! And agree to disagree about the spelling of “old” because there’s no “e,” pal. Actually you’ve been adding “e’s” to every scrabble word you’ve put down.

MS: We’ll call it a tie. Again! Ha-e

HB: Hahaha! Don’t add “e’s” to your “ha’s,” we’ll just edit that out. Seriously, where are you getting all those “e’s”?

MS: I brought the Puritan version of Scrabble, which contains 75 “e’s” and 6 consonants.

HB: For those at home, Miles is showing me a box painted in the drabbest color of gray.

MS: The colony was opposed to the original beige coloring, as well as any form of lettering. So, here you have the deluxe second edition.

HB: Oh, that’s fun. Also, I’m guessing Stick N’ Stick catered to your audience a little more?

MS: Yeah, my first prototype was Stick N’ Anvil, but a lot of people found it too racy, and actually a little easier to move the anvil. So, I went with two sticks with both sides sharpened. It generally just gets stuck after your first move.

HB: So…no one usually wins?

MS: No, which is part of fun. Also, the added risk of impaling yourself keeps you on your toes.

HB: Any other favorites? Stick N’ Stick sounds like a winner, but I think everyone wants to know your all-time favorite game night games.

MS: Sure, sure. Um, I’ve always been a fan of Witch, Witch, Witch.

HB: Oh, I’ve heard of this, it’s like Duck, Duck, Goose.

MS: Exactly, yeah. Good for the kids, and everyone has kids, so. But yeah, you walk around a circle patting the heads of each person until you grab the Witch. At this point everyone gets up and helps carry the “tagged” Witch – both because everyone can get involved and because the Witch will be scared shitless, so you want to hold the flailing arms.

HB: Sure, sure.

MS: Hopefully there’s a water source nearby because you’ll throw the Witch in a pond or lake, whatever, where they’ll end up drowning.

HB: Okay, say there’s not a pond around?

MS: This is the beauty of Witch, Witch, Witch – you can improvise by either tying up the Witch and slowly placing rocks on them. Or, you can grab a stick from my game Stick N’ Stick and drive it through their temple. And then you start anew! Can go on for hours, which is what a great game should be!

HB: Miles! Such a shameless plug for Stick N’ Stick! Hahaha.

MS: Ha-e, Ha-e, Ha-e… Ow, mother fucker!

HB: Oh wow, Miles got one of his sticks in his eye. Jesus, man, that looks bad.

MS: Oh, that smarts! Hand me the other stick!

HB: Good idea. Dislodge it with the other stick. Thank goodness it wasn’t an anvil!

MS: I can’t see.

HB: Thanks all!

Bloody Brunch, Britches!

It’s Saturday, so that means brunch! Brunch, bitches! And who’s joining us – my bestie from prep school, Mary “The Britch” Tudor! Mary I, queen of mother f’ing England and Ireland, restorer of Catholicism after her fat, ugly dad went through so many women like a Protestant at a yard sale (her words, not mine – also, no idea what that means)… Bloody Mary!!! Celery salt, celery salt, celery salt!

M: Ugh, pancakes. Just want some pancakes with my…

Together: Bloody Mary!

M: Seriously though, the new job sucks already.

HB: Oh, that’s right, Mary started her first job…ever…at f’ing 35!

M: It’s 2 days a week at Corepower Yoga with a bunch of old divorcees – so it’s like a 40-hour week, mentally.

HB: Like your Mom?

M: Shut the fuck up!

HB: Oh my god, Mary, I thought you were over that?

M: No, shut the fuck up, I told you last week it’s still f’ing bothering me.

HB: Mary went to the bathroom, so it’s gonna be another 40 minutes. (to server) Could we get 4 more Marys while I wait – she’s gonna want, like, three. You know who you look like, Hannah Montana, but like not in a good way.

M: Brrrritches!

HB: Oh thank god, you’re normal again. Here, fugly Montana brought you three more Marys. I’m so sorry.

M: About what, I don’t even know what you’re talking about? I took a nasty vodka shit and cried a little bit, so we’re good.

M: Just don’t bring up Catherine again… I’ll chop your neck off, but not all the way, like only halfway so you’re still alive for a few minutes. You know?

HB: Yeah, Mary, I totally get it. Jesus Christ…

M: I’m kidding!

HB: I know! Britches!

HB: How’s Brad?

M: Oh, you mean Tae Kwan Do Brad?

HB: Huh?

M: Oh yeah, hot Brad from Corepower also teaches Tae Kwan Do at the Y. So, that’s over.

(server spills drink)

Server: Oh my god, I am so sorry.

M: I think you meant to do that.

HB: Mary, please, not now, just…enjoy.

M: No, I think she meant to do that. Oh, what a pretty necklace. It’s a cross, but where’s the crucified Jesus?

Server: I don’t know. My mom got this for me when I was young.

HB: Just run, please. I’m sorry I said those things earlier. She has this effect on me.

M: Oh, your mom’s in your life. That’s nice.

HB: Mary, put down the butter knife.

M: Shut your shit mouth… No, I’m going to put all 5 inches of this dull blade in her spine.

M: I’m kidding!

Everyone: Brithces!!!!