With apologies to Thin Lizzy.

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Guess who just got back today? Mothers, lock up your daughters, because after five long decades away raising our families and building careers of varying success, them wild-eyed boys are back in town to attend our dear friend Johnny’s funeral.

It’s such a shame, and we all miss Johnny terribly. It’s wild to think someday all the boys will be gone for good, never to come back to town again.

His so-called doctors say it was a pulmonary embolism exacerbated by years of hard drinking and one too many random party chicks slapping him in the face. But if you ask me, it was all the agita from his good-for-nothing kid. These younger generations don’t know the first thing about hanging with the boys, or intermittently leaving town and then triumphantly returning.

But Johnny wouldn’t want us to dwell on the negative. It’s time to spread the word around, because all the still-living boys are back in town. And a few of us have brought our wives and families. My old lady and I are staying in the RV for the next few days before we return home to Fort Myers. And after I pay my respects to Johnny and Mrs. Johnny, I will be tearing it up with Reggie, Tiny, Coozeburger (FYI, Coozeburger asked that we call him Benjamin in front of his grandchildren), and JJ. Just like the old days!

We might have traded our Harleys in for mobility scooters, and our hell-raising for getting tricked by obvious Facebook scams, but we can still burn this town to the ground like we used to, assuming Coozeburger’s sciatica isn’t flaring up.

Hey, you remember that chick that used to dance a lot? She was always on the floor shaking what she’s got? Anyway, I ran into her too. She hasn’t been doing much dancing since she shattered her pelvis in a blown slip-and-fall job at Walmart. But she’s still cool and red-hot, considering she uses an oxygen tank and has a botched c-section scar.

Anyway, we were thinking of making the scene at Dino’s Bar & Grill like we used to, but unfortunately, the place burned down a few years ago under highly suspicious circumstances. The good news is they replaced it with a Panera Bread. They might not have a jukebox blasting our favorite song, but they got a senior discount and a dynamite tomato soup with all the saltines you could ask for.

Besides, whether it’s a rundown dive bar or a quick-service café and bakery chain, when the boys are back in town, you can pretty much guarantee that drinks will flow and blood will spill.

At least for the rest of the boys—I won’t be drinking. I’ve got the worst dyspepsia. I don’t know, it’s some kind of enzyme deficiency thing. I’ll just stick to hot water with lemon. But all the rest of us will be going hard, believe me. And if the boys want to fight with the teenage cashier because they feel Panera shouldn’t charge extra for avocado, then you better let ’em!

But you know, we’re all really broken up over Johnny. So, so sad. Could have happened to any one of us.

Duh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh! Duh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh! Duh nuh nuh nuh, nuh nuh nuh, nuh nuh nuh!