Terry Abernathy Is Out At The BHAA
Upon recieving the so-called Christmas card below from Terry Abernathy and his wife Ondine (with a note attached saying ‘Hey Ted, fresh blood on it’s way for the BHAA!’)
Terry Abernathy with his wife Ondine. Does the Earth God have his way with Terry over a boulder in a quiet wooded glen?
I called Dave Woncott and Porter Jones and told them I wanted Abernathy out of the Beverly Hills Automobile Association. And I wanted him out now! I showed them the card and attached note and they both laughed. I then said to them, okay, I want you guys out with him, to which they replied ‘not gonna happen.’ I then got a lecture….a lecture, mind you…from Dave about diversity and accepting the other guy and it’s 2011 and what’s up my ass and on and on.
I said to Dave I resented being badgered about not referring to Porter as his half-brother. Dave said to me that Porter was his half-brother and he wasn’t ashamed of it. I said to Dave, that’s fine but only a plywood shelter in a no-mans hell filled with pig squeals would be suitable as the BHAA headquarters if word got out. He then laughed again, derisively. I waved Abernathy’s Christmas card in his face. He’d have none of it. Porter, the half-brother stood there grinning. Then Dave jumps up with this one. “You don’t make a move without me! I have a coalition of members that want YOU out Bell..they’re tired of your BMW’s, all 20 of them!” Well, that’s when I became all ice. Know what I mean? I simply told him to sit down. I told his HALF-BROTHER Porter to sit his ass down too. All I said were 3 or 4 little words:
“I’m Ted Bell.”
Dave got real quiet and Porter dipped his head…real low, almost like (and please forgive me for saying this but it was extreme) almost like he was trying to give himself a….a blow job. They then got up and slowly trudged out of my office. I called for Oscar to valet their cars to a spot across the street. I couldn’t stand the sight of them and I couldn’t stand seeing them get into their cars at MY valet stand. I then left this message on Dave’s phone: “You ever come in here again trying to tell me how to run my business and I’ll kick your butt so far up between your shoulders that…..you know…” Words failed me. I started again.”That your head will look like it already does…a butt..only it will be worse because it’ll be a real butt and not just….” I hung up, disguisted that Dave’s feeble challenge had thrown me off. But at least I knew I hadn’t taken a picture of myself and my wife with me looking like the Earth God himself bends me over a rock in a wooded glen nightly and goes to town. Wow.