So he goes to the bar and starts sawing it in half with the chainsaw, bartender yelling "STOP STOP, WE'LL SERVE YA!". So he stops, and goes out to put the chainsaw in his truck and passes out in the rain and sleet outside. Meanwhile there's his setup sitting on the bar.
Anyway, one time we were out in the dunes working on this guy's house. It was in the national preserve. His grandfather had a place there before it was a preserve so he could live there but as soon as the house rotted away, it's over. No rebuilding, just get out. So we were there putting rebar and concrete and all kinds of shit in there to make it last. So you've been living on a sandbar in the Atlantic for the last 200 years? Enjoy, you dumb fuck. So we were done for the day, and drinking pretty hard, you know, winter on Cape Cod and construction. And we were way the fuck out there, you know you couldn't get there easy. You had to go through a couple feet of salt water on a good day, no road, all washed out. We're sitting there in this shack on a sand bar and BAM the door flies open and there's Brister with three whores. How the fuck he got there with three streetwalkers in heels no one knows. HERE I AM BOYS and in he comes.
So he was a legendary Cape Cod drunk, like I said.