Friday, 10 May 2013

Worst Beat-down Ever

Most of us guys have at least one beat-down in our past that we'll never forget. Often times what makes the event so memorable is not how badly we were beaten, but the circumstances surrounding and leading up to our getting beaten. Personally, I have more than one of these moments but this is the only one I can share without  the simple act of sharing warranting another beat-down.

All of us at some point in time are taken under the wing of someone older, and "wiser". You know a mentor. Someone to pass on skills, traditions and shit like that. Often times this is a noble thing. But this is me were talking about. I think most of the people who mentored me are either dead, brain dead, or in jail. Given the facts, I'm sure you can imagine who my mentors were and what they taught me.

So in high school, those of us who smoked hung out on "the tracks", a long-abandoned strip of rail lines directly behind our school. During any give lunch period, there were as many as 50 people out there. Most of the time I kept to myself. I didn't really click with more than a couple people in high school, and most of the time they were hangin' with people I had no interest being around. Every once in a while I'd go against my better judgement and make the mistake of socialising with one of these groups. This is exactly what started the chain of events leading to my beat-down.

Picture if you will a group of 7 or 8 girls gathered in a group, and me somehow being allowed into the conversation. My friend who was the reason for me standing in this odd place, we'll just call her....um.....Gertrude, was taller than me. Gertrude was an attractive young lady, nicely proportioned, and possessing a good deal of intelligence. We had known each other since 3rd grade, and I'm surprised she was still associating with me.

So, I didn't really walk into this conversation.....it more or less enveloped Gertrude and me. We were already talking when the rest of the girls showed up. Although most of the girls were probably afraid of me, or detested me, I was shocked at how willing they were to talk about wierd shit....girly shit.....around me. I had no interest in where the cackling was going and apparently my expressions made that obvious, because one of the braver girls, let's call her...um...Bitch, decided to make the group aware of my disinterest.

Bad idea.

Bitch: "So....like....are we boring you or something Johnny?"
Me: "No, I'm cool." I make no eye contact, and just focus on my cigarette.
Bitch: "Guess he's just not comfortable around girls."

Really?????? Now she's got my attention. and not in a good way. Little Jimminy-Fuckin'-Cricket is standing in my ear getting nervous. "Stay cool Johnny. She's not worth the trouble." Yeah....that little fucker never gets his way with me.

Me: "Fuuuuuuuuuuck you." Figured I'd start out with a warning shot across the bow.
Bitch: "You wish!" Her choice of volley was not a good one because this girl was know on campus for being looser than a slot machine at a Catholic church casino night.
Me: "Yup, I still have the number tab I pulled last week, but your 'now serving' sign is only up to 800."
Bitch: "You're an asshole!!!"

Yep, I won that round. And not being one to back down in a fight, I was about to go in for the pimp hand when Gertrude tried to break things up.

Gertrude: "Johnny, play nice or I'm gonna have to separate you."

If I had been in a calm state of mind, I would have taken that advice and walked away. But nooooo.......

Me: "Hey, for once I wasn't the one to start this shit. The only reason Bitch is talking shit about me is because I'm one of the only guys that won't screw her."
Gertrude: "Johnny"
Bitch: "You wouldn't know how to handle a girl."
Gertrude: "Johnny!"
Now wait a minute!!!!! Why the fuck is she saying my name again????? What about Bitch?????? Now I'm starting to feel like I'm being teamed up on.
Me: "I can get any girl out of her clothes faster than you can get your next penicillin shot."
Bitch: no sound, just jaw dropped
Gertrude: "Psh, you couldn't get past my bra."
Me: "Really? Ever hear of 'The Claw'?"

DISCLAIMER!!!!!! To any and all teenage dudes that might happen to be reading this, DO NOT ATTEMPT ANYTHING THAT YOU READ ABOUT BELOW! In present times these things could easily be construed as bullying, bad-touch, sexual harassment, and could lead to expulsion and/or jail time.

Gertrude: "The what?"
Me: "Claw, a one-handed way to remove a girls bra in seconds."
Bitch: "You're full of it."
Gertrude: "Yeah, and I'm wearing a front-hooking bra so...."

Gertrude was not only wearing a front-hooking bra but a tube top of some sort. I think like that stretchy wet-suite type material. Anyway, I'm not sure why she thought that would be any sort of a barrier for me. Before she could finish her sentence I struck. Reaching out like a striking snake, in between her boobs and successfully popping her bra apart.

Because of what her top was made of you couldn't really tell if I was successful. But the look of utter shock on her face told me I was. Even better yet was watching that look of shock and awe spread like wildfire to the rest of the girls in the group, and even some curious on-lookers who witnessed this feat of epic proportion.

Overcome by the "Ha! I told you!" sense of victory I was kind of laughing and smiling, and when I realized there was no way for her to reconnect her bra without lifting her top I got hysterical.This did not help matters. The severity of what I had done, was not even remotely in my realm of awareness. Jimminy had bailed from my shoulder, probably before I had even used the claw (smart little bastard).

The girls were ingenious, forming a tight circle of privacy around Gertrude so that she could put her boobs back where they needed to be. And what happened next I would never have expected.

Like a starving lion, Gertrude broke through the ring of girls and attacked. She took me down faster than a linebacker and proceeded to pound me, and she knew how to hit. As much pain as she was inflicting, I couldn't stop laughing. It was like throwing lighter fluid on a campfire. I think she kept hitting me for a good three to four minutes before someone pulled her off me.

The next day at the tracks I was back in my secluded area under a tree. After having a day to process what happened and realizing that I deserved what I got, I was expecting that Gertrude would probably never speak to me again.

"Hey, got a smoke?"

Thursday, 27 December 2012

Taught that little shit a lesson!

Ok, I have a rule that I don't prank kids now that I'm an adult. But, as with all rules, there are exceptions. And it just so happens that one of those little fuckers reared it's ugly head this past Christmas!

You know the kid.... obviously raised by a parent or parents who clearly should have been sterilized when they hit puberty. Taught up in a home where respect, especially in public, is devoid. Raised by fat-assed, slack-jawed, foul-mouthed, bigoted, brain-damaged, unmotivated, hand-out entitled jack-offs. Even my small, black, cold heart feels bad for kids in this situation. But in most cases what can you do? The way our legal system works even child protective services can't take the child away. Let alone sterilize the parents to break their fucked up chain of procreation.

However; on a limited number of occasions we are presented with the opportunity to provide a life lesson to one of these kids. And this one was a doozy!

Mid-December, I found myself walking down the hallway at a business. I was moving towards the busy lobby, in a good mood even. As I came closer to the lobby I noticed three young kids in it as well. Two of them were boys, occupied with trying to get into a bathroom. As I passed they were polite and acknowledged me and I returned the courtesy. Nearing the end of the hallway is where I encountered the third child. At first she looked cute, about 4 years old, sipping from a water fountain. Never would have expected what came next. When she finished her drink, the little imp took notice of my presence and when she looked up at me I was almost startled. You know how in "Raiders of the Lost Ark", at the end, when they take the lid off the ark and the ghosts start floating around.... then one looks at the bad guy and turns into a demon before attacking him? Yep, that's what this little girl's face did.

But hey, an angry kid is nothing. But then, as if I was the cause of her problems, her eyes narrowed, jaw tightened and she spoke.

"Yo fat!" was the phrase that hissed out of her mouth.

I was caught off guard, and that doesn't happen often. There was no doubt she meant what she said and that she meant it for me.

"She can't be serious", I thought to myself. "I've never seen this kid before." Being as young as she was, not knowing her or her parents (wherever they were), I decided to just blow off the comment, smile and be nice. "Maybe my good attitude will rub off on her." Clearly she did not realize that my current disposition was one I rarely exhibited. As I moved closer to her I could tell that my being nice was only pissing her off. That little imp was trying to provoke me! My mood quickly changed. Then she repeated herself. This time nearly shouting. Her face puckered and her lip snarled...

"I...SAID....YO FAT!!!"

Wow! If my parents caught me treating an adult this way, I'd have eaten a bar of soap and probably been whipped a few times with a belt. Clearly a lesson needed to be taught. I started to pay a little more attention to the adults closest to the child. There was little doubt.....yep, they were the parents. And based on their behavior they could give two shits about what their little girl was up to. My blood was boiling at this point. Ho..Ho...Fucking...Ho!

And just as that phrase rattled in my head I was imparted with a message, clearly from one of the Christmas spirits. The spirit said, "You must teach this child a lesson."

With hardly a change in my pace I leaned down quietly next to the girls ear and whispered:

"You know what, you caught me....I'm fat. And you know why I'm fat? Because I'm Santa in my walk around disguise. And you know what, your Christmas is FUCKED!!!"

I quickly stood again and continued on past the parents and out the doors. It took the girl until I was walking out to start freaking out. I could hear chaos unfolding in the building as I walked towards my car. As I drove away I smiled and realized, sometimes karma is an appropriate Christmas gift.

Tuesday, 11 December 2012






Had a blast kickin it with the guys in Devil By Design.
The dudes are bad-asses

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

The All-Star Kid (part 2)

You'd think that at this point in our adventure we'd be a little paranoid, considering we had been caught red-handed trying to TP one house and then absolutely buried a second in TP after that. But noooooooo....... being the teenagers we were, we forgot all about our failure and were now pridefully gloating in our newly completed masterpiece. We didn't even think to take the side streets and shortcuts we knew to get back home. Instead, at 3AM, we chose to walk home on the main street in our neighborhood.

Yeah, this just reeks of a lesson to be learned the hard way doesn't it? Did I mention we lived in a town where the most excitement the cops had was breaking up parties on the weekends? That they were so starved for the adrenaline rush of a bust, they were almost like meth addicts prone to overreact? Ok, so now you know. See where this is going?

As we're walking back I pull out the nutterang and began throwing it at mailbox posts, stop signs, street light posts. I was pretty good at hitting my targets and the sound of the bolts made hitting the metal posts I aimed for was probably enough to wake someone up. Hmmmmm.....didn't give that much thought. On we walked.

About half-way home I heard the sound of a car coming from behind us. I looked back and noticed the familiar shape of the headlights on a Ford Crown Victoria......the type of car used exclusively by the town police department.

"Fuck!!!!!"
"What?" said G, completely unaware of what was coming.
"Dude, there's a cop coming up the street behind us."
"Oh shit!" He had that panicked tone to his voice that scared me more than the cops. I knew he had the potential to do something really stupid. "Should we run?", he asked.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Dude just chill, keep walking like nothing's happening."

At this point I realised I was carrying the nutterang. If we did get stopped and the cop saw it, I was probably gonna get put to the ground at gun-point. (That's no exaggeration. The cops in our town had a habit of doing that to kids.) I strung the nutterang through the belt loops on my jeans figuring I could just say it was my belt. I know.....I was a dumbass.

Things quickly got worse as another pair of same-shaped headlights appeared in front of us. We were boxed in. G saw the second set of headlights and now was in panic mode.

"Dude, just calm down. If they stop us we're just walkin' from your house to mine. We'll just give 'em fake names and we'll be fine."

G didn't even have a chance to respond before the first car pulled in front of us blocking our path and the second blocked us from behind. Shit!

"What are you boys doing out at this time of night?"
I didn't want G to even open his mouth so I immediately replied, "Just going to my house."
"Where were you?"
"His house," I said.

The other cop had walked up behind us and firmly grabbed each of us by the neck. I thought G was either going to piss his pants or pass out.

"Do me a favor and put your hands on the car and spread your feet." said the cop.
"We got a call that there were some peeping toms in the neighborhood tonight. You know anything about that?" said the second cop.
"Huh?" I said. Wasn't expecting that.
"What you got here?" The cop searching me found the nutterang and was pulling it off me.
As he put it on the roof of the car I tried to play it off, "Hey, you want my jeans to fall down?"
"You want me to believe that's a belt?" he said.
Shit!

At this point G wasn't saying anything. I think it was taking everything he had not to start crying. What a pussy! But that was about to change.

"What's your name?" the cop asked me.
"Bill Williams", I replied.
"Really?" he answered. I found this confusing. Did I say it wierd? Why was he immediately suspicious?
"Um...yeah." was my answer. I thought I was still holding it together.
"Ok Bill, why don't you have a seat in my car and your friend can go with my partner and sit in his car."

This was not good! I knew that on his own, G stood no chance of holding it together. He was gonna crack, FUCK!!!!! But I was gonna stick to my guns. So into the back of the cruiser I went, cuffed and now feeling a little stressed.

"So is 'Bill Williams' what you're sticking with?" came the first question.
"What? Um....." At this point I realized my fatal mistake. I was wearing my team jacket from my baseball all-star team, and on the left-hand side was stitched my first name and last initial. Shit! But that just meant I needed to shift on the fly. No need to give up my real name right? "Ok, it's John Nelson." As I looked up I wasn't looking at the cop questioning me, but through his front windshield and at G in the back of the other car. Yup, he had definitely cracked and was spilling his guts.
"This is the last time I'm going to ask you, you're already looking at carrying a concealed weapon and lying to an officer," came my final warning.
At this point I decided to go with the less is more approach. I'll give him my name and hopefully we'll get a warning or something and sent on our way. (I'm laughing at myself right now as I recount this.) Name address and phone number.....all surrendered. The cop then got on the radio with his cohort in the other cruiser and at that point I realized G had told the other cop E V E R Y T H I N G........

While we were being escorted by the cops to the house we TP'd, dispatch was calling our parents to let them know what happened. After we cleaned up the mess we made we were told we were being taken back to our houses. I learned it wasn't until my parents both went to the family room and saw my rendition of the Alcatraz dummy that they believed the dispatcher. They were arguing with the lady, confident the cops had some other kid. G had it worse than me. Apparently his parents didn't hear the phone ringing and if he couldn't get his parents to come to the door when they got there, he was gonna be taken to Juvenile Hall. Luckily, they heard him pounding on the door I guess.

When the cop brought me home, my parents were up and waiting. They listened to the cop describe the details of my escapades that night quietly and politely thanked him and assured him this would never happen again. They signed my citation and we walked inside. I was sure my dad was going to beat me within in an inch of my life. But to my shock they quietly asked me to sit down on the couch. As they sat across from me I could see my mom was tearing up. I didn't realize things were about to get worse. Then out of his pocket, my father pulled out my bud-pipe.

.......stay tuned for more.......

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

The All-star Kid (part 1)

Ever ride down a steep hill inside a tractor tire. You can't see where you're going, you have no control, and if you run into a rock or any other immovable obstacle it hurts like a muther-fucker! Ever have a night that felt like that? I sure as hell did.....

I started sneaking out of my house when I was 13 years old. I was a night-owl, and loved the rush of roaming my town when most other sane people were sleeping. The darkness provided great cover should I need to....um....evade someone.

It took only a short period of time to develop a system for sneaking out of the house without my parents ever knowing. Ya see I had asthma and all I had to tell my parents was that I was having trouble breathing and needed to sleep in the family room on the couch. To this day I can't explain why my parents believed that the family room was less allergenic than my room. When everyone went to bed I'd make a dummy with an extra couple of pillows and cover it with my blanket on the couch, and it worked. I have to thank my parents for letting me watch "Escape from Alcatraz", where I learned that little trick. From the family room it was easy to get out the front door without making a sound. And there was always a spare key hidden just off the porch that I used to lock the door as I was leaving.

For a little while I was having fun wandering the streets on my own....performing random acts of kindness. BWAAAAAAHHHHHH HA HA HA HA!!!! If that's what you call toilet papering houses, plastic wrapping cars, and the like. But after a while I got tired of doing everything by myself. I needed a sidekick. Someone lacking just enough common sense for me to convince them that joining me on my adventures was a good idea. And that they'd never get in trouble. I knew just the guy, "G".

It was the week before Valentines Day. "G" and I were still in that phase..... you know.... girls are more fun to terrorize and pull pranks on than anything else. "G" and I were discussing a short list of girls in our school that we thought were...how did we put it?....oh, yeah..."bitches". As I was listening to "G" I realised....this is a perfect opportunity to recruit him. And what better night then Valentines Day night. Screw Hallmark, show em how much you really care by toilet papering the shit outta their house and lighting firecrackers off on their porch at 2 AM. "G" loved the idea so much that he almost forgot about the risks associated with it. He started to get a little sketchy. Lucky for me he really liked the idea and really wanted to do it, and after a few minutes helping him develop a plan for escaping his house he was on board. Or so I thought.

We were supposed to meet in front of his house at midnight but as I rounded the corner to his house, he was nowhere in sight. I waited for a few minutes, thinking maybe his watch was a little slower than mine. But as the minutes ticked by I felt like I had been flaked on.....now I was pissed! I snuck around the side of his house. Stepping over his dog, who knew me and was more interested in sleeping than what I was up to, I reached his window. His light was out and I could see the little fucker sound asleep. OH HELLLLLLLL NO! I started tapping on the window. After about 15 seconds I could see the sound was starting to make him twitch in his sleep. Finally he woke up, realising it was me and that he wasn't going to get out of his commitment, he signalled me to meet him up front.

"Dude, I'm tired.....", came the whining complaining from "G".
"THUMP!"
Before, he finished his sentence I pounded his shoulder with my fist.
"Oooooowwwwwww!"
"Muther fucker......why'd you try to bail on me?" I was pissed, "G" knew it, and he knew that he was close to an ass-kicking.
"Sorry. I got nervous....my parents were up late, and I was worried I was gonna get caught, so I just went to sleep."
"THUMP"
I pounded him on his other shoulder.
"Fuck!!! I said I was sorry!"
"You got the TP?" Each of us was supposed to bring a multipack.
"Yep....."
I could tell that "G" was now focusing on what had fired him up about this adventure in the first place.
"Let's go have some fun", he said as we started off on foot to the house we had decided to target.

Julie was a bitch! Not just to me and "G", but to any creature with a penis. Anyway, she was in the top 3 of my short-list and number 1 on "G's", so she was the easy mark for our Valentines Day gift. "G" said he knew where she lived and it wasn't far away, which made the decision even easier.

As we were walking down the street I reached into my jacket and pulled out a nutterang. For those of you who aren't familiar with this particular homemade weapon, it's similar to a bolo. Made of a strong piece of 3 foot long rope and large steel nuts tied on each end. When thrown right it'll wrap around a target in a hurry and end with a really painful impact. Most of the time we just used them as a toy, throwing them at sign posts n stuff. But when "G" saw it he freaked a little.

"Dude! If we get busted and you have that on you we could go to jail.....cuz it's a weapon!"
"Dude, shut the fuck up! We won't get caught." I was gonna pop him again but if I did the little pussy would probably have started crying and run home.

So we finally got to Julie's house. Nice big 2 story with a big ass tree in the front yard, perfect. I told "G" to get on the opposite side of the garage from me and we'd start tossing the TP over the roof, around the bushes, and in the tree a few times for starters. "G" threw the first roll up but with not enough behind it to clear the roof and it landed with a "SMACK" on the wood shingles.
"bar rar rar rar rar rar rar rar!!!" came the yippie sound one of those little mini-poodle things. Confined to Julie's garage and awoken by the sound on the roof it was in full guard dog mode, barking and growling it's ass off through a vent in the garage door.

Realising that by now someone in the house had to be awake, I was ready to run. But "G", he didn't see it that way. In fact.....I don't know what the fuck he was thinking! He was on his hands and knees in front of the vent just pissing the dog off even more by growling at it. I looked up at the window over the garage and saw the silhouette of a man looking down at us........ "Fuuuuuuck dude, her dad's looking out the window at us!!!! We gotta go!" I yelled at "G". That sunk in real fast and in a split second we were in full sprint and down the street.

When we were convinced the dude wasn't following us, we slowed to a walk. The adrenaline rush was awesome and realising we still had a ton of TP that we didn't want to keep carrying, we picked a random house and went crazy on it! By the time we were done the fuckin' think looked like an all white parade float designed by pre-schoolers. After taking a moment to admire our work, we took off for home. Little did we know what was to come.....

To be continued.....

Sunday, 24 June 2012

2 Liter Trouble

*****************Disclaimer***************
I do not advocate, condone or otherwise encourage the consumption of alcohol by individuals that are legally under age. I am simply sharing a story from you childhood. So for those of you who are underage, and read my blog, I don't want to catch any shit from your parents or anyone else because you decided to do anything even remotely similar.
****************************************

My home town was boring as shit! For those of us teens that weren't into sports, the weekends required us to find our own ways of entertaining ourselves. This became a challenge during the winter because the normal outdoor activities weren't appealing. It was on one of those cold, rainy Saturdays that this story took place.

Me and my buddy, we'll call him "J", were sitting in his house watching TV....bored. We started talking about our options.....um...er....we couldn't come up with any. His parents weren't around and mine were off at soccer games with my brother and sister, so we had no means of transportation. Jim was bitching cuz he had bought some weed to smoke the night before and didn't get the chance. We didn't dare think about smokin' it around the neighborhood......our parents had too many spies watchin' our every move. We had to get outta there! Then it hit me......let's go to the mall. Normally this would never be an option considered by us, but we had never been there....um....under the influence and thought it might be a trip. We knew we could hop a bus that would take us there so we were set. But getting high just didn't seem like enough. As I took another swig outta the Mountain Dew two liter we were drinking it hit me......lets make a suicide!

J's dad was a serious alcoholic, and we could always rely on him to keep a fully stocked liquor cabinet. We learned early on that he marked the levels in his bottles to try and keep us from drinkin' his booze, but that didn't stop us. We had drank about half of the two liter and began filling it back up with a little bit of every type of booze he had in the liquor cabinet, hence the name "suicide". And when we finished, we poured water into the booze bottles to bring the contents back up to their original levels. We were set!

We grabbed our jackets, the weed and our two liter and headed out the door. The best part of the drink we had made was the bottle it was in. We walked down the street gulping from the bottle without a worry of getting caught. To anyone passing by it looked just like Mountain Dew. So we committed ourselves to drinking as much as possible before reaching the bus stop. At that point the bottle had to be tossed. By the time we arrived at the bus stop we were already buzzing, and while we were waiting for the bus, we took turns smoking J's weed in the bushes behind the bus-stop shelter. Now the party was on! We had just enough time to smoke a cigarette before the bus showed up. We jumped on and managed to quickly move past the driver without raising any suspicion, or he just didn't give a shit. In the 45 minutes it took us to get to the mall the booze and weed were in full effect and we were laughing our asses off, having a great time. When the bus pulled up at the mall I was out first. I staggered out and started walking towards the front entrance. I looked back to see J had staggered off the bus and straight over to a raised planter where he promptly leaned over the edge and relieved himself of his stomach contents.

"Hey bro...are you ok?" I asked as J was standing up straight again and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "Yep, all good," he said, " just need to rinse my mouth out at the water fountain."

We meandered, yes I did use that word, because it best describes the less than normal way we were walking at this point. We meandered through the doors and headed into the mall. We went straight to the water fountain. "Dude, me first." I said. I had a serious case of cotton-mouth, and there was no way I was gonna drink out of that fountain after J rinsed and spat puke out of his mouth into it.

As we made our way out into the mall again we realised there were a lot of high school girls running around. Guess this was the place for them to hang out on the weekends. But there really weren't any other guys there and we kind of stood out. As J and I were talking about this, we both realised that in our current state that could put us in serious risk of getting caught by the rent-a-cops. Shit! Now we were paranoid. And that's a major buzz kill. We needed to find a way to stay off the radar. Both of us had the munchies and decided we needed to go downstairs to the food court, grab something to eat, and find a place to sit down and chill. With two massive bags of popcorn, a couple of Famous Amous cookies, corn dogs, and a bag of brownie bites we made our way down to the middle of the lower level to sit down. Here began the most epic part of our entire adventure!

In a couple areas of the mall there were sunken round spots ringed by comfy leather seating. A perfect place for us to eat and make fun of people as they walked by. But when we finished eating we discovered there was an even better view from the seating area. J and I were reclining with our heads laying back against the seat backs when I saw it. "Dude!!" I heard J say. "You seeing what I'm seeing?" He noticed the same thing I did. The upper floor of the mall was designed like a honey comb of cat-walks with glass walls under the hand rails. Surely the architect and/or engineer responsible for this design had a vision of safety and aesthetics, but it provided something even more valuable to teenage boys looking up. You see, as girls walked by above there was a point where, if they were walking close to the glass wall, you could see straight up their skirts!! "Killer!"

We spent the next couple of hours calling out the colors and patterns of panties we could see as we looked up. We were having a blast! I guess we weren't being very quiet about it, but no one really knew what we were talking about until the worst and best thing happened. J and I were looking in opposite directions when a beautiful woman, probably in her 20s came into view. "J!" I said alerting him to turn his head. I was speechless......but he wasn't. Raising his long arm and pointing at her, nearly shouting he said, "Dude, that chick's not wearing any underwear!!!"

Immediately, in utter terror, the woman looked down to see me and J looking up. J was still pointing. With both hands she pushed the front of her skirt between her legs and began backing up at almost a sprint. The whole time screaming, "OH....MY...GOD! SECURITY!!!! You little pigs are TOAST!"

Everyone in the mall was now looking in our direction. "Shit!" said J. "Busted!" said I, as both of us were staggering to our feet. It's amazing how fast, even drunk and high, we were able to get to the doors of the mall. We got out the door before a single rent-a-cop could track us down. And our luck couldn't have been any better because as we ran out the doors, a bus was pulling up at the stop. We jumped on and the bus began to pull away. As it did we waived to the rent-a-cops that had come out to wish us a safe journey.

The ride home was quiet. Neither of us saying anything. I was reviewing the visions of panties in my mind over, and over, and over. I thought J was doing the same.....but I was wrong. As we were pulling up to our stop I hear him say, "Oh shit, I don't feel good." I guess the excitement of our escape and the speed at which we had moved jostled all the food in his stomach. Combine that with the motion of the moving bus and his head still spinning, he was to the point of puking again. "Dude, just keep it together man. We're almost there." I said. But it was to late. J started chumming the floor of the bus in front of him just as it stopped to let us off. I bolted to my feet, grabbed him by his arm and dragged him off as fast as I could. As the bus pulled away, I'm sure he could see J puking beside the bench at the bus stop. But I don't think it was until a little while later that he realised he had puked on the bus too.

Thursday, 31 May 2012

Campus Security

Now, some may choose not to believe that I went to college, but I did. I've been told that no college would allow me in. I've got just one thing to say to those people........ money talks. Ha! If you have grants or cash, you'd be amazed how many universities will welcome a C student with open arms.

So I went to a smaller private university in LA. On weekends most students took, off leaving a few of us left with nothing to do, and stranded because we didn't have cars. Need I remind you what happens when Johnny has nothing constructive to do.

Things started of simple enough. The school, like so many others, was cheap and their choice of security was a perfect example. If the rent-a-cops weren't 70 to 80 years old, they weighed over 300 lbs. and could barely walk. For the older ones, working the night shift meant they got to sleep somewhere other than with their ancient wife, and sleep they did. This of course provided me, and anyone else with nothing to do and an active imagination, great opportunity. Things started out pretty mellow, pics with us hanging on the sleeping guard. One slept so soundly we were able to re-position him, remove his hat and take turns wearing it. Of course the pics got around and that dude was fired. Sorry bro, but you had it coming. His replacement was significantly younger, but in that 5 foot nothing and 300+ lbs. range. Apparently he had been warned that there were trouble makers in our dorm so he was an ass to just about everyone. We didn't care for that. So me and a couple of my room mates were walkin' back up to the dorm after dinner. It wasn't even dark out yet and that fat little fart was already sound asleep. Comfortably slumped over in a chair blocking the main entrance to the dorm, chest full of crumbs left over from whatever small child he had eaten, and a pool of drool on his collar directly underneath his chin. Hmmmmmm......what to do???

College triggers a gene in all young people.....the slob gene. As a result of the student residents being plagued by this gene, there was all kinds of shit littered about the dorm. I noticed a particularly large stack of plastic trays from the cafeteria that had been used to transport food and never returned. Perfect! So me and.....well, for the sake of protecting my friends....let's just say "we". We grabbed the trays and proceeded to the third floor balcony directly over where lard-ass was sleeping. We divided the trays into two equal piles, each taking half, we held them over the edge of the balcony and let them fall. The noise of the trays hitting the concrete floor around lard-ass could be heard through the entire dorm, not to mention the in-human sound that came out of him. Heads were popping out of windows and doors looking to see what happened. Lard-ass started out flailing in his chair for about 10 seconds. Once he remembered where he was he bolted up and immediately looked up at us when he heard our laughter. He was pissed! Now normally I wouldn't be too concerned about being chased by a guy that large and out of shape, especially when he'd have to climb stairs. But when I saw him clear the first flight I knew he had a ton of adrenaline pumping through him and we needed to run. Our only saving grace was that the guards were not given keys to the actual residence hallways, so we locked ourselves in ours and remained there until we could hear him lumber back down the stairs. From that day until the day he was fired, we had to watch out for him when he was on duty.

Now about a year later the school changed security companies again. The new company must have been a family run business. All of the guards were Filipino, never spoke English unless they were speaking to one of the university personnel, and they were mean. It seemed like once again, there was need for a lesson to be taught.

So one night we're walking back onto campus through the main entrance. It was about 1 AM. There is a guard booth at the main gate, and a guard is always stationed there. Guess it had been a quiet night because the 70 year old guard in the booth was reclined in his chair and sound asleep. I mean out! You could hear the bastard snore through the glass door. We began to discuss what we could do to the guy as we walked past the booth and up the hill towards our dorm. By the time we got to the dorm a plan had been formulated, and all it required was some fishing line. 15 minutes later we are back down at the guard shack quietly wrapping the nearly invisible fishing line around the guard booth....again, and again, and again.....you get the picture...until we ran out. We then took a hidden position up the hill behind some bushes. One of my friends picked up a water logged LA Times, Sunday edition and lobbed it as high as he could in the direction of the guard shack's metal roof.

BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!

The best way to describe what happened next would be to ask if you've ever caught a bee in a jar, waited for it to calm down and then shook the jar. Yep same kind of thing. Dude wakes up in full panic mode. Reaches over to push the door open and get out, but it won't open. Something is holding the door shut! Now he's really freaking out. We were going to go down and let him out but his adrenaline got the job done. He eventually pushed with enough force to break the fishing line and escape. Without making a sound he sprinted to his car, jumped in and took off.

For some unknown reason a couple of us were called into the student services center the next day. It seems the security company had quit citing that the campus was haunted and their guards felt the spirits were evil and attacking them. I guess the resident director wanted to know if we had seen any ghosts around campus lately.

Friday, 11 May 2012

OMG! You put what in the burger?

Like the vast majority of people in the entertainment industry I've done my time in the restaurant industry, probably more time than most. As a result I can testify to the fact that all those fucked up stories you hear about what goes on beyond the view of patrons.....IS ABSOLUTELY TRUE!!! Here's just one example.

I was in a band at the time, we had promise and caught the attention of a few notable people. Anyway, as a band we were family, and that stretched to include a small number of people not in the band. One of these people was the girlfriend of the other guitarist (from here on out referenced at "the guitarist"). To this day she is still like a sister to me, despite the fact that I'm lousy at keeping in touch.

I know. Right about now you're asking yourself, "geez, what the hell does this have to do with burgers?" Relax, you'll see.

Just like in any family, sometimes shit hits the fan. Someone does something really fuckin' stupid and needs to be punished. The guitarist was, I don't know, I guess getting bored of the relationship with his girl and started treating her like shit. Shortly after, he broke up with her and continued to treat her like shit. On several different occasions I had to sit with her as she cried on my shoulder because of the things he was saying about her to other people.

Now I was raised right. I might have my moments, but there are some things that just aren't acceptable. The little fucker crossed the line. Being that I considered both of them family I went to talk to the guitarist. When I brought the subject up he told me to fuck off and that he didn't care what I thought. At that point it became apparent to me that a lesson needed to be learned.

I worked at a burger place....kind of a family place with a build your own burger theme. You know, the ones with the open kitchen behind the cashiers where you can see all the cooking going on. Well, at least you think you can see everything, LOL. The guitarist was a regular customer of the restaurant. He always came in and ordered the same thing, 1/2 pound burger cooked well. Knowing all of this provided me with an ideal canvas on which to illustrate his lesson. The next time he came in I was waiting for him.

The grill we cooked burgers on was huge, and we cooked a ton of burgers on any given day. These flat-top grills have to be cleaned frequently during a shift. A scraper is used to get some of the gunk off and a pumice stone, sort of like sand paper, is used to remove the really stuck on stuff. All of this....um.....residue is pushed into a gutter at the front of the grill that runs into two large vats underneath both sides. This is also where all the fat and grease from cooking all that meat goes. Those vats sit under the grill all day, the contents swirling and festering like the brew in a witches cauldron. Mmmmmmm.....yum.

So in walks the guitarist with a bunch of his friends and I see him. Time to teach the lesson. I've had one particular burger sitting in a corner of the grill where the temp is low. The burger started out medium, but over several hours has slow cooked to the consistency of shoe leather. The only reason it still looks like a burger is that it's been marinating in a puddle of grease and fat that it was left in. This was the beginning of the lesson. When the guitarist placed his order, I slid the burger into the middle of the grill to warm it up a little, and let him pass the point where he could see what I was up to. I then lifted the burger up with a spatula and proceeded to reach down and submerge it in one of the vats under the grill. I let the burger sit in the vat for a couple of minutes to soak up anything that it could. I then placed it back on the grill to heat it up.  My buddy was working the other flat-top toasting the buns. I asked him to make a special one for the burger and he was more than happy. Normally he applied a special....um fake butter to the buns to toast them. Not this time. He proceeded to hork up every bit of smokers phlegm he had in his lungs and apply it to the bottom part of the bun and put it on the grill. The top was placed on the floor to soak up the spilled fake butter from there (He was able to pull this off easily because the buns were actually kept underneath that grill and pulled up when needed. So it looked no different from the other side of the counter where the customers were.) When the bun was toasted and on a plate, I lifted the burger and quickly slid it onto the bun and passed it down the line for delivery. After the guitarist picked up his order I asked one of my waitresses to keep an eye on him and make sure he enjoyed his burger. A short time later she returned to inform me he had eaten the entire burger and was happy with his meal.

At this point it's important to understand that his lesson is only half over. You see that burger was like a time-release pill, working it's way through his digestive system. All the fat, grease, oil and pumice residue turning his intestines into a fire hydrant just waiting for it's cap to be loosened. When he wasn't at school the following Monday, I knew the lesson was a success. A couple days later I was talking to a mutual friend and I heard the whole story.

In the evening after eating the burger the guitarist ended up taking a new girl to the movies. I guess somewhere near the end of the movie the guitarist must of tried to sneak out what he thought was a fart.........the cap loosened. Apparently the smell all but cleared out the entire theatre. His new girl bolted, dry heaving. The movie was cut short and when the house lights came on my mutual friend said the guitarist looked like he was sitting in aftermath of a mudslide. After crafting a large jumpsuit out of a trash bag to prevent any more, um, leakage from escaping his pants he left the theatre.

Holy shit!!!!! I so wish I had been there to see all of it. I guess he thought the cause was the fake butter in the popcorn he ate because he ended up calling the health department and reporting them.

Now I know this wasn't really an effective lesson because he couldn't possibly have made the connection between his rectal explosion and his poor treatment of women, but it made me feel like I was a participant in Karma's biting him in the ass. I saw him come into my restaurant a couple more times before I quit that job. I never fucked with his food again, but every time I saw him it made me laugh a little inside.

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

The Ultimate Classroom Cropdusting

So we returned from the marching band trip without so much as detention. You wanna talk about three guys feeling like they could get away with anything, that was us. Upon our return we realized we had....um ...leftover supplies. We gave the silly string shit to Jesus. You would have thought he was a 4 year-old on Christmas. Ever see a 300 lb. person skip? Anyway....

Our arsenal of foul smelling weapons still had enough ammo to make someone's life a living hell. It was just a matter of who. I'm not sure if they were just a little bit smarter than me, or if they just lost interest in the idea of using the shit to prank on campus, but they turned the fart spray and sulfer bombs over to me. Blinded by my desire to put the hurt on a couple of ass holes that had wronged me, I didn't stop to think about the fact that on campus there were a lot more authority figures and a hell of a lot more people mulling about all the time. If I had thought about it I would have realized that there was an extremely high probability that I was gonna be seen when I pulled another prank. That little red fucker with the horns, sitting on my shoulder, just kept jabbing me in the neck with his pitchfork and screaming, "DO IT!!!! DO IT!!! DO IT!!!"

Early May on campus, sunny, about 80 degrees. I was walking through campus, ditching a class. I was walking past the music building, a two room older building with no AC. This building was the home of all the school choir groups and all the bands. There was always noise floating outta that place. In the warmer months all the teachers in the surrounding buildings would complain because the choir teacher opened up all the windows in his room to try and cool it down. So every classroom surrounding his classroom had to listen to choir practice every day.

So I'm walking through campus with the little red fucker screaming at me and I am now being assaulted by an exceptionally unpleasant round of singing coming from the choir room. Now I was irritated and the geeks in the choir were already on the radar for my next prank. Hmmmmmm......why not now? As I walk closer to the music building I reach into my back pack and remove the last can of fart spray. I keep the can close to my leg to conceal it as I get closer to the building. When I get within 10 feet of the windows I walk right up against the wall, directly under the windows.....extend my arm, raising the nozzle of the can to the level of the first row of open windows, and pull the trigger. The timing was perfect. The students were singing at full volume so they couldn't hear the sound of the spray. They were far enough away from the windows that there was a delay before the smelled it. And I just sprayed as I walked by. At the end of the building was a trash can, so as I walked away I just quietly tossed the fart spray can into the trash. I then continued to walk off to my locker, and then on to my next class on the other side of campus.

I had no idea the riot I just put into motion.

What I share next is based on what I heard from witnesses at the scene.....

Within seconds of my departure, the choir class was enveloped by the fart spray. The reaction was described to me as absolute pandemonium. Howls of discomfort, gasping, coughing...... All the noise caught the attention of whatever band was practicing in the room next door and the instructor decided to investigate. Bad idea! Opening both classroom doors created air flow that sent the fart spray not only into the band instructor's nostrils, but into her classroom as well. The entire building has not been gassed. The choir students, being the drama queens they were, decided they couldn't handle the smell in their classroom and moved their practice outside. This in turn pushed the teachers in the surrounding buildings to the point of sheer revolt. I was told one of the science teachers (also a football coach) almost punched the choir teacher. The assistant principal had to be called in to diffuse the situation. It was at that point that things got bad for me.

You see the music instructor was painfully aware of the fart spray due to its use on the marching band trip. She was also aware of who was in possession of it. She was pissed because my little prank messed up her day. And later she told me, she wasted not time in passing my name on to the assistant principal and informing her about the unknowns regarding what set all of this off.

I'm sitting in algebra when a runner (freshman ass-kisser working for the office) came in and handed my teacher a note. FUCK!!!! John....you have been summoned to the office. FUCK!!!!!! I didn't see this coming..... how the hell did I get caught. Shit! I still have the other stuff in my backpack. Should I dump it, no the runner is following me. Crap! I calm myself. "You can get outta this. You've escaped worse before." The little red fucker on my shoulder is laughing his ass off. Shit! "OK...just deny, deny, deny."

The AP pulls me straight into her office, literally by my shirt collar. Holy crap, she's pissed! Never seen this woman with the same look on her face I'm seeing now. Little scary.
"Give it to me." Her voice has the hiss of a viper.
"What?" I say.
"Don't fuck with me!" She never swore. I knew this was bad and so did everyone in the office because she was so pissed that she didn't even close her office door.
"I'm not. What did I do?" I tried to sound as innocent as I could. Was pretty proud about how it came out.
I could feel the eyes of everyone in that office glued to the back of my neck. I'm pretty sure they all thought they were about to witness a murder.
"Give it to me." Came the hiss again.
"Gi......" My words were cut off abruptly.
"Listen to me you little shit." Her voice had lowered to almost a whisper, but not in a 'I'm calming down' kind of way. "I have an entire choir class outside in the middle of the quad rehearsing! They are disrupting 10 classes around them, including a very pissed of and highly aggressive science teacher! I had to use myself as a shield to keep him from hitting the choir teacher! And there are 15 girls all saying they need to go home to change their clothes because they smell so bad! Now, GIVE ME THE GOD-DAMN CAN!!!!!!"

I was about to try one more time but was stopped dead in my tracks.
"Before you say another word mister.... you are staring down a loaded double-barrel shotgun. One shell had a three day work detail sentence. The other shell, a three day suspension. The next thing you say and what you do next will determine which bullet you're gonna take."

At this point I knew better than to try and escape. I said nothing. Opened my backpack and removed the remaining can of fart spray and the sulfer bombs. I took my discipline slip for the work details and left without saying another word.

Would have loved to been a fly on the wall in that place after I left.

Monday, 23 April 2012

Hotel Hotbox

So the commotion finally died down from the fart spray but none of us were ready to call it a night. Still amped up from the success of our prank we were wide awake. Hell, even Mr. Goodie-two-shoes Jesus was all fired up. Well until he started coughing.

Did I mention that the other three of us smoked? Um, yeah, I know I did. Well my buddy Jim and I had always loved the smell of pipe tobacco. Walking by the tobacco shop in the mall we always said we were gonna buy a couple of pipes and try it out some time, and this trip seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Jim, Brian and I had already been smoking but just cigarettes until now. We had our hotel room closed up tight. No windows open, the door closed with a towel in front of it. Our hope.....not to make it too easy for the fucking chaperons to figure out we were smoking and bust our asses. Jesus was under control, and after the earlier prank he seemed to have relaxed a little. But now was time for the pipes. Brian had no interest, and of course, neither did Jesus. So Jim and I packed our pipes full of tobacco and lit them up. I can only imaging how we.......looked like total dumb-asses. I mean really???? Who the fuck thinks tobacco pipes are cool?

What the hell, we were having fun. The damn pipes were totally hotboxing the room. Jesus was coughing his lungs out and the whole room was thick with smoke. Jesus had crawled under the covers of his bed. Now in his boxers and t-shirt I don't think he planned on surfacing until sun-up. Ten or fifteen minutes later you couldn't even see the TV through the smoke, just the light from whatever was on. That's when it happened. That ear-piercing sound that everyone hates, but knows what it is. Pulsing.....high pitched.....FUCK!!!! IT'S THE FIRE ALARM!!!!!!! Brian bolts for the bathroom, turning on the fan to try and suck out smoke. Me and Jim are on the beds trying to fan the smoke away from the detector with pillows to silence the thing, and Jesus........OH FUCK!!!! Jesus bolted from the bed when the alarm started going off and was now at the door, trying desperately to unlock it. And yes, he was in full freak-out.

"Dude!!! What are you doing??????" I shouted.
"It's the alarm, we have to evacuate!" came the reply from Jesus
"Dude, don't! You're gonna get us all busted." I said

Jim got the alarm to stop and was still fanning it with a pillow. Brian was now coming out of the bathroom and moving towards Jesus. Both of us realized that an intervention was going to be necessary, and stopping 300 lb. Jesus was gonna take both of us at the very least.

CLICK! Jesus managed to release the deadbolt, his final obstacle to opening the door. Brian and I lunged to tackle him as he swung the door open, heading onto the outside hallway. If we hadn't been the cause of it, the though of seeing a panicking 300 lb. dude in nothing but boxers and a too small shirt screaming and running through a hotel would have been a sight to see. But not this time. Brian manages to grab one of his arms and I got a solid choke hold around his neck. As we're wrestling him back inside the room I'm thinking about how bad this looks. Two dudes jumping on a 300 lb. nearly naked dude, and wrestling him into a hotel room while he's screaming..... "HEEEELLLLLLPPPP!"

Fuck! Glad no one caught that on film.

After about 30 minutes and several threats on his life, Jesus finally calmed down and agreed not to try and bolt for the door. After about an hour the room cleared. We stayed up almost all night freaking out thinking we were going to hear a knock on the door from the fire department or police, but it never came

The next morning all four of us tried to act like nothing happened the night before. But after seeing the look in our band director's eyes I knew we had been caught. We kept waiting to get pulled aside, yelled at, even forced to call our parents....but nothing like that ever happened. Maybe we were lucky. Maybe she was on watch when all this shit rolled out and she couldn't help but find it too entertaining to punish us. Or maybe it was in honor of keeping the traditions of debauchery alive. Don't think I'll ever know, and I'm not sure I want to.