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Greeny World Domination 068
GwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwD
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 ,
I n c o r p o r a t e d
Presents:
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|| || \ / | || | _| |__| |_ 6666 6666 888 888
\\___// \/\/ |____/ |_ __ _| 666 666 888 888
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"FUCK ALL FORMS OF WIRELESS COMMUNICATION" by Otis and Priest
----- GwD: The American Dream with a Twist -- of Lime ***** Issue #68 -----
----- release date: 11-25-99 ***** ISSN 1523-1585 -----
______________________________________________________________________________
| |
| There is no establishment in West Texas as depraved or so full of iniquity |
| as "The Bunk House." One night, Trojan-Man, Priest, and Otis went to this |
| establishment to peruse the warez. This is their story, as told by Otis |
| and Priest. |
|______________________________________________________________________________|
<OTIS>
One night, we (Priest, his roommate, and I) were at Priest's house. A female
friend of our's came over with four or five of her friends to drink lots of
alcohol with us. The girls got happy and I got buzzed. After a while, the
girls left to go to a dance club; at least one of them was considering
participating in the wet t-shirt contest at the club. I have no idea why we
didn't go with them...the girls were good looking; better looking, in fact, than
the ones we actually saw later that night, and it would have been a hell of a
lot cheaper...but had we gone with them, there probably would be no story about
that evening. Right as the girls were leaving, Trojan-Man pulled up. Troj and
I drank a little, and someone (I don't know who, but probably me) suggested that
we go to the titty bar. [Titty bar is actually a misnomer in this case...it's
actually a "nudie bar," but "titty bar" has a nice ring to it]. Troj was a
regular at "The Bunk House," so the choice of which gentleman's club to visit
had already been made. The Bunk House it was.
Troj knew the doorman, so we didn't have to show our IDs at the door. This is a
good thing, since both Troj and I were underage at that time...ten dollars
later, we took our seats at a table near the stage and began to watch the
"female entertainers." Troj broke out his bottle of Crown Royal(tm) and he and
I drank, after buying ourselves cokes (served in the tiniest styrofoam cups
imaginable) for $2 each. Troj "lost" the lid, so we agreed that we'd have to
kill the bottle. Priest, the designated driver, wasn't drinking, so we had to
finish the bottle between the two of us. No problem.
I would drink the coke about halfway down, and then fill the cup back up with
Crown. Drinking through a straw and with such a small cup, I refilled often.
Needless to say, I was more-than-buzzed before very long. Another regular at
the "club," who also happened to be a family friend of Jakyl [Priest, Troj, and
Jakyl were all roommates at one time, so they had both met this fellow before...
not to mention the fact that he and Troj were both regulars there], came to our
table and helped drink a little Crown. This man (who's name escapes me) happens
to be about 50 years old and is very cool. For the time being, he just drank
with us, but he returns to the story shortly.
As a regular, Troj soon had a stripper (arguably the most attractive of the
bunch...she was a brunette with a cute navel) sitting at the table with us. I
was tipping frequently, and after a short time the lovely girl asked me if I
wanted a lap dance. I said, "Maybe later," or something like that.
Around this time, the fellow who's name escapes me stood up, walked over to me,
announced that he'd had enough of my lip, and proceeded to handcuff me behind my
back. I thought it the slightest bit peculiar that he only cuffed one wrist and
that my friends were not protesting my arrest. However, being drunk, I decided
to keep my mouth shut...also, the only thing going through my head was "Oh shit,
who can I call? Who the fuck can I call to bail me out?"
We got into the parking lot, and the guy busts out laughing. "What the fuck is
so funny?" I muttered. "You should have seen your face! Hahahahahahahahah!!"
he yelled. He let go of my arms, and then I realized that I was the butt of a
joke. I'm sure if the joke was on anyone else, I would have joined in the
laughter, but as it was, I was pissed. "Tell me you have the fucking keys," I
said. "Nope," he said. "What?!?" I was fucking pissed. "Calm down, the
bartender has them." I then became overwhelmingly happy that I was not being
arrested, and decided that I needed to go back inside and celebrate my good
fortune with some more Crown. If I had been sober, I would have decked him
(and then he probably would have killed me), but I was drunk, so I was just
happy.
I drank more Crown. More and more and more and more Crown. I couldn't stand up
straight. I went to the stage to tip one of the dancers...I was holding onto
the bar at the edge of the stage so I wouldn't fall over, and the girl danced up
to me. She grabbed my head and pulled me forward. Well, I fell over and my
face was only an inch or so from her crotch. I smiled up at her, she smiled
down at me, and I tried to stand. She held my head in that position..."What the
fuck?" I decided...I began to blow onto her crotch. I looked up at her, and she
smiled and puckered up her lips. She finally moved onto the next tipper, and I
returned to my seat, stumbling all the way.
When I got back to the table, I was all grins. The lady who was sitting with us
asked if I wanted a lap dance from the girl I had just tipped. "Uhhh...Yeah....
that'd be great..." "I'll get her over here for you." "Thanks." After 10 or
15 minutes, the girl came over to our table and asked if I wanted a dance. I
just smiled at her and stood up. She led me to the other side of the room. I
*guess* I got a lap dance, but I don't remember anything after sitting down on
that side of the room. I vaguely remember paying her $20, but I'm not sure if I
actually remember that or if I only suppose that's where the money went, since I
had $20 less than I started with the next day. In fact, I don't remember
anything until the ride home. I don't even remember leaving the club, or
finishing the Crown...but we did leave, and the Crown was gone, supposedly drunk
by me.
We were more than halfway home, when I decided I had to throw up. Priest pulled
the car over as soon as possible, which happened to be next to a park. I fell
out of the car and laid on the ground...Troj followed me, and tried to get me to
stand up. He was tugging on my arm, and I kept saying that I wanted to sleep
there. He finally got me on my feet, and led me over to the picnic tables. I
could walk after all, it seemed, but only while shouting the lyrics to "Proud to
Be an American." We finally arrived at the picnic tables, and Priest moved the
car around to the park's parking lot, so his car wouldn't be on the side of the
highway. I put my head down on the table, and tried to sleep. Priest showed up
at the table a few minutes later, and announced that we had to leave. "Why?" I
asked. "Well, two police cars and an ambulance just pulled up." "I don't
believe you," I said. He pulled me up and pretty much forced me to look at what
he had seen. He was right. "That's no good," I said, upon seeing the
newcomers. Then I proceeded to put my head back onto the table.
It turns out that someone driving by had called 911 to report that someone was
dumping off a dead body. Priest did some fast talking and convinced the cops to
leave. The EMS guys insisted on talking to me..."Leave me alone, go help
someone who fuckin' needs it," I kept saying to them. They laughed a lot at me,
and finally went on their way. No sooner had I put my head back down then
Priest announced that "another cop and NewsChannel 11" had just pulled up.
[NewsChannel 11 is a local TV station...duh] "No way," I said. I looked up,
and didn't see anything (my eyes were probably closed), and still refused to
believe him. I fell back onto the table, and he did some more fast talking, and
they left. He got a business card from the newsguy to prove to me that he had
been there.
Details of the rest of the night are pretty sketchy. I remember trying to throw
up before we left. I remember crawling to the car. I don't remember the ride
back to Priest's house. I don't remember arriving at Priest's house. I do
remember sitting down in a recliner at Priest's house. I also remember asking
someone, anyone, for a glass of water, which I was given. Several people (there
were 5 or 6 people there) also tried to force me to eat crackers, which I
refused. I drank the water, and asked for more. "It'll make you throw up.
Eat crackers instead." "Bullshit. Give me water, crackers will make me throw
up." "No." For some reason, I got super-sad and asked someone for lovin'.
Someone, I don't know who, kissed me (I'm sure it was a girl...three girls were
there; I had dated two of them in the past (one of them was dating Troj at the
time), and the other was dating Priest's roommate.) I'm pretty sure it was
Troj's then-girlfriend...I dunno. I passed out in the chair; it must have been
around 4am.
Priest's roommate woke me up around 7:30am when he was getting ready for work.
I had a monster headache, of course. I fumbled around, found my keys which had
(wisely) been taken from me the night before...I drove home, drank a helluva lot
of water, took some Tylenol(tm), and went to sleep for an hour and a half. I
woke up just in time to drive across town for my appointment at the eye doctor.
I felt fine...no headache...not even tired...just the slightest bit queasy, when
I arrived at the doctor's office.
And that's that.
-----
<PRIEST>
Actually, that is not that...
And now, for the REST of the story.
Well, for the most part Otis got the story right up to a point. Yes, we did go
to the "Bunk House," and Mr. Trojas did bring a bottle of Crown Royal (tm), but
it gets a lot more interesting from that point on. We're all sitting there,
enjoying the view. We being, Myself Otis, Trojas and a friend named Harry. Now
what Otis probably forgot in his drunken haze was that the doorman, the handcuff
friend, Trojas and myself were all members of a small group of toturees called
Rooseveltians. Yes, we all knew and hated the school. So, we're sitting there,
and Harry nudges me. When I look over, he slips some handcuffs out of his pocket
in a manner which would have looked really great in an eighties spy movie, but
just looked really hilarious and provided some much needed information on the
level of sobriety, or lack of, of our Harry. I of course proceeded to show
Trojas, and we both smiled our demonic smiles for which we are famous, and then
sat back and waited for the festivities to start.
Harry, like all good drunken predators, waited for just the moment to strike.
Otis stood up and stumbled over to the stage to add to some young lady's college
fund. She, of course was very grateful and proceeded to thank him. She told
Otis that she was very warm, and would he be gentleman enough to cool her off.
Well, of course he was a gentleman, so he huffed, and he puffed and he tried to
get her to blow him down. She was TICKLED by his attentions and once again,
thanked him. Otis, stumbled back to his seat, and before he sat down, gave a
little, "I'm the king of the titty bar!" [I DID NOT. -Otis]
Enter the drunken prankster. He sprang up, as much as an old drunk man can
spring, snapped one handcuff on Otis, and said, "That's it boy, I am tired of
your loud mouth, I'm taking you downtown." Now, I was insulted by Otis said
happened at this point--that Trojas and I did nothing. That is a complete and
utter lie. We chortled, we laughed hysterically, we cackled like hyena's and
guffawed so hard we cried. I resent the insinuation that Trojas and I did
nothing to aid the situation. Oh, boy, did we aid... :-)
Now the rest of the evening at the "gentleman's club" went pretty much as
described above, except for one little detail--the lap dance. Trojas's evening
companion asked Otis if he would like the company and mental stimulation of one
of her co-workers. Ever the gentleman, he complied whole-heartedly. As he was
walking over to the...lounge, he got this glazed happy look on his face. Enter,
once again, the drunken predator. He got this look in HIS eyes, and walked over
to the...lounge. Harry waited until Otis was well into the moment then quickly
put one heavy hand on his shoulder and said quite loudly, "Hey, that's my wife
you son of a bitch!" Once again, Trojas and I were quite involved and voiced
our comments on the situation.
That sums up the night at the female establishment, but oh yes, the night is
still very, very, young.
So yes, we start the journey home, and Otis is trying in vain to give
directions. Trojan-Man is in better shape, but not a whole lot. That would
soon change. We are on the loop, heading west, and about the time we get to the
top of the hump @ Quaker, Otis says to me, "mmmpphhsssdddaaaaa." The tone, but
not the words conveyed to me his extreme wish to purge his system of any and all
toxins and pollutants at that immediate juncture. Preferably not in my new car.
I pull quickly, very quickly, to the side of the road, and Otis puts his entire
weight upon the door, pulls the handle and collapses heavily onto the grass. He
seems quite happy to stay there the rest of the night, but Trojas and I aren't
quite so enthused. Jas jumps quickly out of the car and starts tugging on
Otis's arm attempting to pull him up and back into the car.
Now what we have here is a simple case of failure to communication. There are
some men you just can't reach. In this case an underage drunk who happens to be
lying on the ground on the side of the loop by Quaker, soused out of his mind,
at 2:30 in the morning. Now things get a little hectic. I tell Trojan-Man to
do whatever he has to, to get Otis up and into the park. I have to get off the
side of the loop. I do, and drive around to the inner side of the park, and
well, park. I get out of the car and start walking towards the pair that are
walking towards the park bench, when I hear a rendition of "Proud to be an
American," that could only exist in a war movie from the 50's or from a Lubbock
park at 3:45 in the morning by members of the Lubbock Drunken Choral. No sooner
had I reached the pair than I see an ambulance go whipping past on the loop and
I remember thinking that some idiot had gotten in a car wreck again. I had a
few seconds to talk with Jas before I was witness to something utterly new. I
saw said ambulance driving the wrong way up the access road at much lower
speeds. Hmm, this might not be as good a thing as a dental visit. I told
Trojas to duck and cover, and went to try and deal with a situation I had NO
experience in. On my way to the ambulance, a cop car pulled nose to nose with
the meat wagon. Hmm, okay, this might not be better thank enlisting in the
armed forces (trust me I know). After a brief conversation with the driver of
the dead conveyance, I learned that some poor, kind caring ASSHOLE had noticed
us on the side of the road, and instead of stopping to check, just phoned into
the police that some people were dumping a body on the side of the loop. Nice
guy, hope he gets hit by a bus on the way to his IRS audit. I explain to them
that my friend is just an avid horticulturist and was stopping to check the
condition of the grass... Actually, they asked me if I was okay, and I replied,
"I'm fine, in fact I'm in a lot better shape than my friend over there."
The one policeman kinda chuckled and said, "Your friend pretty smashed?"
"Uh, lets just say that he is going to be wishing for a Japanese short-sword in
the morning."
The policeman laughed a little harder and everyone seemed on the verge of
letting the matter drop, when lo and behold, cop car number two showed up. This
does not bode well for our hero. At the arrival of the second pig patrol, the
EMS personnel decided they had better go ahead and check everything out.
DAMN
DAMN
DAMN
DAMN
DAMN THE BASTARD WITH THE CELL PHONE!!!
"Uh, hehe you don't really want to do that, I mean everything is really
ok..."--no dice. We all start walking over the park bench of dread and I can
see from the gleam in Trojan-Man's eyes from sixty yards out that he has sobered
up considerably. Big surprise. Halfway there, pork conveyance numbre tres
pulls up next to nomer dva.(#2). You know, if I become someone's bitch right
away, then prison might not be that bad...
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK ALL FORMS OF WIRELESS COMMUNICATION!!!
Now fortunately for those poor souls mentioned here, Mars was in line with
Jupiter and Saturn was at its longest elongation. That is the only way that I
can figure us not getting hauled away to jail when Otis responded to police and
EMS questioning with repeated, "Fuck you, go help someone who fuckin' needs it."
Now, to his credit, I am greatly impressed that Otis could speak, much less form
coherent sentences, belligerent or otherwise. Trojason exhibited the most
incredible single act of intelligence that night by managing to answer all of
the questions put to him WITHOUT ONCE OPENING HIS MOUTH! Made my job of
convincing the nice policeman not to check our ID's because he knew what he
would find and he wouldn't like it and just think of all the paperwork involved
in hauling three people to the "big house," much easier. At this point, the
goat we had sacrificed two days earlier to some deity came in quite handy.
Apparently, the policeman was getting such a kick out of watching me try to
physically remove Otis's power of speech that he decided to call it a night for
dealing with us. So, without much more ado, the policeman, and the EMS walked
back to their perspective vehicles and talked and chatted a few more minutes
over tea and crumpets. Exit stage left, pig # 1. Exit stage right, the EMS.
Down to two police cars...yea. Enter the Channel Eleven news van, stage left.
DOH!
When I happened to mention through the side of my mouth to Otis that a news van
had just arrived on the scene, he vehemently gave me the same response as that
to the EMS...
"Fuck you, there's no news van."
Well, hell, if I was going to jail, I would be on my way by now, so fuck it. I
make my way over to the news van, and start up a conversation with the reporter.
He was actually angry that there was no body on the side of the road.
"Well gosh, sorry to disappoint you! But since you are here, my friend doesn't
believe that you are actually here. He can't see that far in his current
condition and I was hoping for a card or something to prove to him in the
morning what really went on here tonight."
I think he would have told me to screw off had the original policeman not
started to laugh uncontrollably right then. So, he grudgingly pulled out a card
and handed it over.
That was about it for the rest of the night. Excluding of course Otis's
preferred method of transportation back to the car. Namely a slow but unsteady
crawl with frequent stops to curse the ineffective defective trash cans that for
all accounts should by God stay still while he was trying to puke into them.
You all know the ones I am talking about, the swiveling kind... :-P (He never
did puke, by the way. Gotta give him credit for that.)
Thank you, and I am Priest with the weekend update........
And THAT is that.
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Our little girl Susan is a most admirable slut, and pleases us mightily, doing
more service than both the others." - Pepys (pronounced "PEEPS")
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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GR33NY LIK3S mash3d p0tat03s
MORE THAN FIVE YEARS of ABSOLUTE CRAP! /---------------\
copyright (c) MCMXCVIII Otis and Priest :FIGHT THE POWER:
copyright (c) MCMXCIX GwD Publications/GwD, Inc. : GwD :
All rights reserved \---------------/
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