351 lines
21 KiB
Plaintext
351 lines
21 KiB
Plaintext
GwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwD
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T h e G R E E N Y w o r l d D o m i n a t i o n T a s k F o r c e ,
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I n c o r p o r a t e d
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Presents:
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__ __ 666 888888888
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_____ ____ _| |__| |_ 666 888 888
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// | \ |_ __ _| 666 888 888
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|| ____ | || | | | | | 6666666666 888888888
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|| || \ / | || | _| |__| |_ 6666 6666 888 888
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\\___// \/\/ |____/ |_ __ _| 666 666 888 888
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|__| |__| 6666 6666 888 888
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666666666 888888888
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"FUCK ALL FORMS OF WIRELESS COMMUNICATION" by Otis and Priest
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----- GwD: The American Dream with a Twist -- of Lime ***** Issue #68 -----
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----- release date: 11-25-99 ***** ISSN 1523-1585 -----
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______________________________________________________________________________
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| There is no establishment in West Texas as depraved or so full of iniquity |
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| as "The Bunk House." One night, Trojan-Man, Priest, and Otis went to this |
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| establishment to peruse the warez. This is their story, as told by Otis |
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| and Priest. |
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|______________________________________________________________________________|
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<OTIS>
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One night, we (Priest, his roommate, and I) were at Priest's house. A female
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friend of our's came over with four or five of her friends to drink lots of
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alcohol with us. The girls got happy and I got buzzed. After a while, the
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girls left to go to a dance club; at least one of them was considering
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participating in the wet t-shirt contest at the club. I have no idea why we
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didn't go with them...the girls were good looking; better looking, in fact, than
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the ones we actually saw later that night, and it would have been a hell of a
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lot cheaper...but had we gone with them, there probably would be no story about
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that evening. Right as the girls were leaving, Trojan-Man pulled up. Troj and
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I drank a little, and someone (I don't know who, but probably me) suggested that
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we go to the titty bar. [Titty bar is actually a misnomer in this case...it's
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actually a "nudie bar," but "titty bar" has a nice ring to it]. Troj was a
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regular at "The Bunk House," so the choice of which gentleman's club to visit
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had already been made. The Bunk House it was.
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Troj knew the doorman, so we didn't have to show our IDs at the door. This is a
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good thing, since both Troj and I were underage at that time...ten dollars
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later, we took our seats at a table near the stage and began to watch the
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"female entertainers." Troj broke out his bottle of Crown Royal(tm) and he and
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I drank, after buying ourselves cokes (served in the tiniest styrofoam cups
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imaginable) for $2 each. Troj "lost" the lid, so we agreed that we'd have to
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kill the bottle. Priest, the designated driver, wasn't drinking, so we had to
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finish the bottle between the two of us. No problem.
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I would drink the coke about halfway down, and then fill the cup back up with
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Crown. Drinking through a straw and with such a small cup, I refilled often.
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Needless to say, I was more-than-buzzed before very long. Another regular at
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the "club," who also happened to be a family friend of Jakyl [Priest, Troj, and
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Jakyl were all roommates at one time, so they had both met this fellow before...
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not to mention the fact that he and Troj were both regulars there], came to our
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table and helped drink a little Crown. This man (who's name escapes me) happens
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to be about 50 years old and is very cool. For the time being, he just drank
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with us, but he returns to the story shortly.
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As a regular, Troj soon had a stripper (arguably the most attractive of the
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bunch...she was a brunette with a cute navel) sitting at the table with us. I
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was tipping frequently, and after a short time the lovely girl asked me if I
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wanted a lap dance. I said, "Maybe later," or something like that.
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Around this time, the fellow who's name escapes me stood up, walked over to me,
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announced that he'd had enough of my lip, and proceeded to handcuff me behind my
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back. I thought it the slightest bit peculiar that he only cuffed one wrist and
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that my friends were not protesting my arrest. However, being drunk, I decided
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to keep my mouth shut...also, the only thing going through my head was "Oh shit,
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who can I call? Who the fuck can I call to bail me out?"
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We got into the parking lot, and the guy busts out laughing. "What the fuck is
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so funny?" I muttered. "You should have seen your face! Hahahahahahahahah!!"
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he yelled. He let go of my arms, and then I realized that I was the butt of a
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joke. I'm sure if the joke was on anyone else, I would have joined in the
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laughter, but as it was, I was pissed. "Tell me you have the fucking keys," I
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said. "Nope," he said. "What?!?" I was fucking pissed. "Calm down, the
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bartender has them." I then became overwhelmingly happy that I was not being
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arrested, and decided that I needed to go back inside and celebrate my good
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fortune with some more Crown. If I had been sober, I would have decked him
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(and then he probably would have killed me), but I was drunk, so I was just
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happy.
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I drank more Crown. More and more and more and more Crown. I couldn't stand up
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straight. I went to the stage to tip one of the dancers...I was holding onto
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the bar at the edge of the stage so I wouldn't fall over, and the girl danced up
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to me. She grabbed my head and pulled me forward. Well, I fell over and my
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face was only an inch or so from her crotch. I smiled up at her, she smiled
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down at me, and I tried to stand. She held my head in that position..."What the
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fuck?" I decided...I began to blow onto her crotch. I looked up at her, and she
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smiled and puckered up her lips. She finally moved onto the next tipper, and I
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returned to my seat, stumbling all the way.
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When I got back to the table, I was all grins. The lady who was sitting with us
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asked if I wanted a lap dance from the girl I had just tipped. "Uhhh...Yeah....
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that'd be great..." "I'll get her over here for you." "Thanks." After 10 or
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15 minutes, the girl came over to our table and asked if I wanted a dance. I
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just smiled at her and stood up. She led me to the other side of the room. I
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*guess* I got a lap dance, but I don't remember anything after sitting down on
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that side of the room. I vaguely remember paying her $20, but I'm not sure if I
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actually remember that or if I only suppose that's where the money went, since I
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had $20 less than I started with the next day. In fact, I don't remember
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anything until the ride home. I don't even remember leaving the club, or
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finishing the Crown...but we did leave, and the Crown was gone, supposedly drunk
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by me.
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We were more than halfway home, when I decided I had to throw up. Priest pulled
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the car over as soon as possible, which happened to be next to a park. I fell
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out of the car and laid on the ground...Troj followed me, and tried to get me to
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stand up. He was tugging on my arm, and I kept saying that I wanted to sleep
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there. He finally got me on my feet, and led me over to the picnic tables. I
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could walk after all, it seemed, but only while shouting the lyrics to "Proud to
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Be an American." We finally arrived at the picnic tables, and Priest moved the
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car around to the park's parking lot, so his car wouldn't be on the side of the
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highway. I put my head down on the table, and tried to sleep. Priest showed up
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at the table a few minutes later, and announced that we had to leave. "Why?" I
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asked. "Well, two police cars and an ambulance just pulled up." "I don't
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believe you," I said. He pulled me up and pretty much forced me to look at what
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he had seen. He was right. "That's no good," I said, upon seeing the
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newcomers. Then I proceeded to put my head back onto the table.
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It turns out that someone driving by had called 911 to report that someone was
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dumping off a dead body. Priest did some fast talking and convinced the cops to
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leave. The EMS guys insisted on talking to me..."Leave me alone, go help
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someone who fuckin' needs it," I kept saying to them. They laughed a lot at me,
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and finally went on their way. No sooner had I put my head back down then
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Priest announced that "another cop and NewsChannel 11" had just pulled up.
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[NewsChannel 11 is a local TV station...duh] "No way," I said. I looked up,
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and didn't see anything (my eyes were probably closed), and still refused to
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believe him. I fell back onto the table, and he did some more fast talking, and
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they left. He got a business card from the newsguy to prove to me that he had
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been there.
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Details of the rest of the night are pretty sketchy. I remember trying to throw
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up before we left. I remember crawling to the car. I don't remember the ride
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back to Priest's house. I don't remember arriving at Priest's house. I do
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remember sitting down in a recliner at Priest's house. I also remember asking
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someone, anyone, for a glass of water, which I was given. Several people (there
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were 5 or 6 people there) also tried to force me to eat crackers, which I
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refused. I drank the water, and asked for more. "It'll make you throw up.
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Eat crackers instead." "Bullshit. Give me water, crackers will make me throw
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up." "No." For some reason, I got super-sad and asked someone for lovin'.
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Someone, I don't know who, kissed me (I'm sure it was a girl...three girls were
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there; I had dated two of them in the past (one of them was dating Troj at the
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time), and the other was dating Priest's roommate.) I'm pretty sure it was
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Troj's then-girlfriend...I dunno. I passed out in the chair; it must have been
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around 4am.
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Priest's roommate woke me up around 7:30am when he was getting ready for work.
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I had a monster headache, of course. I fumbled around, found my keys which had
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(wisely) been taken from me the night before...I drove home, drank a helluva lot
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of water, took some Tylenol(tm), and went to sleep for an hour and a half. I
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woke up just in time to drive across town for my appointment at the eye doctor.
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I felt fine...no headache...not even tired...just the slightest bit queasy, when
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I arrived at the doctor's office.
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And that's that.
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-----
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<PRIEST>
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Actually, that is not that...
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And now, for the REST of the story.
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Well, for the most part Otis got the story right up to a point. Yes, we did go
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to the "Bunk House," and Mr. Trojas did bring a bottle of Crown Royal (tm), but
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it gets a lot more interesting from that point on. We're all sitting there,
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enjoying the view. We being, Myself Otis, Trojas and a friend named Harry. Now
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what Otis probably forgot in his drunken haze was that the doorman, the handcuff
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friend, Trojas and myself were all members of a small group of toturees called
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Rooseveltians. Yes, we all knew and hated the school. So, we're sitting there,
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and Harry nudges me. When I look over, he slips some handcuffs out of his pocket
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in a manner which would have looked really great in an eighties spy movie, but
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just looked really hilarious and provided some much needed information on the
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level of sobriety, or lack of, of our Harry. I of course proceeded to show
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Trojas, and we both smiled our demonic smiles for which we are famous, and then
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sat back and waited for the festivities to start.
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Harry, like all good drunken predators, waited for just the moment to strike.
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Otis stood up and stumbled over to the stage to add to some young lady's college
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fund. She, of course was very grateful and proceeded to thank him. She told
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Otis that she was very warm, and would he be gentleman enough to cool her off.
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Well, of course he was a gentleman, so he huffed, and he puffed and he tried to
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get her to blow him down. She was TICKLED by his attentions and once again,
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thanked him. Otis, stumbled back to his seat, and before he sat down, gave a
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little, "I'm the king of the titty bar!" [I DID NOT. -Otis]
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Enter the drunken prankster. He sprang up, as much as an old drunk man can
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spring, snapped one handcuff on Otis, and said, "That's it boy, I am tired of
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your loud mouth, I'm taking you downtown." Now, I was insulted by Otis said
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happened at this point--that Trojas and I did nothing. That is a complete and
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utter lie. We chortled, we laughed hysterically, we cackled like hyena's and
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guffawed so hard we cried. I resent the insinuation that Trojas and I did
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nothing to aid the situation. Oh, boy, did we aid... :-)
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Now the rest of the evening at the "gentleman's club" went pretty much as
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described above, except for one little detail--the lap dance. Trojas's evening
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companion asked Otis if he would like the company and mental stimulation of one
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of her co-workers. Ever the gentleman, he complied whole-heartedly. As he was
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walking over to the...lounge, he got this glazed happy look on his face. Enter,
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once again, the drunken predator. He got this look in HIS eyes, and walked over
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to the...lounge. Harry waited until Otis was well into the moment then quickly
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put one heavy hand on his shoulder and said quite loudly, "Hey, that's my wife
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you son of a bitch!" Once again, Trojas and I were quite involved and voiced
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our comments on the situation.
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That sums up the night at the female establishment, but oh yes, the night is
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still very, very, young.
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So yes, we start the journey home, and Otis is trying in vain to give
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directions. Trojan-Man is in better shape, but not a whole lot. That would
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soon change. We are on the loop, heading west, and about the time we get to the
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top of the hump @ Quaker, Otis says to me, "mmmpphhsssdddaaaaa." The tone, but
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not the words conveyed to me his extreme wish to purge his system of any and all
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toxins and pollutants at that immediate juncture. Preferably not in my new car.
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I pull quickly, very quickly, to the side of the road, and Otis puts his entire
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weight upon the door, pulls the handle and collapses heavily onto the grass. He
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seems quite happy to stay there the rest of the night, but Trojas and I aren't
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quite so enthused. Jas jumps quickly out of the car and starts tugging on
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Otis's arm attempting to pull him up and back into the car.
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Now what we have here is a simple case of failure to communication. There are
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some men you just can't reach. In this case an underage drunk who happens to be
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lying on the ground on the side of the loop by Quaker, soused out of his mind,
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at 2:30 in the morning. Now things get a little hectic. I tell Trojan-Man to
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do whatever he has to, to get Otis up and into the park. I have to get off the
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side of the loop. I do, and drive around to the inner side of the park, and
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well, park. I get out of the car and start walking towards the pair that are
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walking towards the park bench, when I hear a rendition of "Proud to be an
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American," that could only exist in a war movie from the 50's or from a Lubbock
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park at 3:45 in the morning by members of the Lubbock Drunken Choral. No sooner
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had I reached the pair than I see an ambulance go whipping past on the loop and
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I remember thinking that some idiot had gotten in a car wreck again. I had a
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few seconds to talk with Jas before I was witness to something utterly new. I
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saw said ambulance driving the wrong way up the access road at much lower
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speeds. Hmm, this might not be as good a thing as a dental visit. I told
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Trojas to duck and cover, and went to try and deal with a situation I had NO
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experience in. On my way to the ambulance, a cop car pulled nose to nose with
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the meat wagon. Hmm, okay, this might not be better thank enlisting in the
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armed forces (trust me I know). After a brief conversation with the driver of
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the dead conveyance, I learned that some poor, kind caring ASSHOLE had noticed
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us on the side of the road, and instead of stopping to check, just phoned into
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the police that some people were dumping a body on the side of the loop. Nice
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guy, hope he gets hit by a bus on the way to his IRS audit. I explain to them
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that my friend is just an avid horticulturist and was stopping to check the
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condition of the grass... Actually, they asked me if I was okay, and I replied,
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"I'm fine, in fact I'm in a lot better shape than my friend over there."
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The one policeman kinda chuckled and said, "Your friend pretty smashed?"
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"Uh, lets just say that he is going to be wishing for a Japanese short-sword in
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the morning."
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The policeman laughed a little harder and everyone seemed on the verge of
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letting the matter drop, when lo and behold, cop car number two showed up. This
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does not bode well for our hero. At the arrival of the second pig patrol, the
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EMS personnel decided they had better go ahead and check everything out.
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DAMN
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DAMN
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DAMN
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DAMN
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DAMN THE BASTARD WITH THE CELL PHONE!!!
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"Uh, hehe you don't really want to do that, I mean everything is really
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ok..."--no dice. We all start walking over the park bench of dread and I can
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see from the gleam in Trojan-Man's eyes from sixty yards out that he has sobered
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up considerably. Big surprise. Halfway there, pork conveyance numbre tres
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pulls up next to nomer dva.(#2). You know, if I become someone's bitch right
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away, then prison might not be that bad...
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FUCK
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FUCK
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FUCK
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FUCK
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FUCK ALL FORMS OF WIRELESS COMMUNICATION!!!
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Now fortunately for those poor souls mentioned here, Mars was in line with
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Jupiter and Saturn was at its longest elongation. That is the only way that I
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can figure us not getting hauled away to jail when Otis responded to police and
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EMS questioning with repeated, "Fuck you, go help someone who fuckin' needs it."
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Now, to his credit, I am greatly impressed that Otis could speak, much less form
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coherent sentences, belligerent or otherwise. Trojason exhibited the most
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incredible single act of intelligence that night by managing to answer all of
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the questions put to him WITHOUT ONCE OPENING HIS MOUTH! Made my job of
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convincing the nice policeman not to check our ID's because he knew what he
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would find and he wouldn't like it and just think of all the paperwork involved
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in hauling three people to the "big house," much easier. At this point, the
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goat we had sacrificed two days earlier to some deity came in quite handy.
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Apparently, the policeman was getting such a kick out of watching me try to
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physically remove Otis's power of speech that he decided to call it a night for
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dealing with us. So, without much more ado, the policeman, and the EMS walked
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back to their perspective vehicles and talked and chatted a few more minutes
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over tea and crumpets. Exit stage left, pig # 1. Exit stage right, the EMS.
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Down to two police cars...yea. Enter the Channel Eleven news van, stage left.
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DOH!
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When I happened to mention through the side of my mouth to Otis that a news van
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had just arrived on the scene, he vehemently gave me the same response as that
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to the EMS...
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"Fuck you, there's no news van."
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Well, hell, if I was going to jail, I would be on my way by now, so fuck it. I
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make my way over to the news van, and start up a conversation with the reporter.
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He was actually angry that there was no body on the side of the road.
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"Well gosh, sorry to disappoint you! But since you are here, my friend doesn't
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believe that you are actually here. He can't see that far in his current
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condition and I was hoping for a card or something to prove to him in the
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morning what really went on here tonight."
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I think he would have told me to screw off had the original policeman not
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started to laugh uncontrollably right then. So, he grudgingly pulled out a card
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and handed it over.
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That was about it for the rest of the night. Excluding of course Otis's
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preferred method of transportation back to the car. Namely a slow but unsteady
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crawl with frequent stops to curse the ineffective defective trash cans that for
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all accounts should by God stay still while he was trying to puke into them.
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You all know the ones I am talking about, the swiveling kind... :-P (He never
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did puke, by the way. Gotta give him credit for that.)
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Thank you, and I am Priest with the weekend update........
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And THAT is that.
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-----------------------------<GwD Command Centers>------------------------------
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GwDweb: http://www.GREENY.org/
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GwD Publications: http://gwd.mit.edu/
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ftp://ftp.GREENY.org/gwd/
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GwD BBSes: C.H.A.O.S. - http://chaos.GREENY.org/
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Snake's Den - http://www.snakeden.org/
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E-Mail: gwd@GREENY.org
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* GwD, Inc. - P.O. Box 16038 - Lubbock, Texas 79490 *
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"Our little girl Susan is a most admirable slut, and pleases us mightily, doing
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more service than both the others." - Pepys (pronounced "PEEPS")
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-+- F Y M -+-
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GR33NY LIK3S mash3d p0tat03s
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MORE THAN FIVE YEARS of ABSOLUTE CRAP! /---------------\
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copyright (c) MCMXCVIII Otis and Priest :FIGHT THE POWER:
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copyright (c) MCMXCIX GwD Publications/GwD, Inc. : GwD :
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All rights reserved \---------------/
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GwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwD68
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