So Ed and me were getting tore up at an Applebee’s when the waitress asked “can I get you anything else?”
“Just keep the mai tais coming you dumb bitch!” Ed said.
“Keep it down, Ed,” I said.
“You can’t stop me! I’m an animal. An ANIMAL!” he replied.
So finally karaoke started and I sang “Don’t You Want Me”. Ed was at the bar, striking out with every elderly woman he talked to.
“Fuck this place,” Ed said. “A mojito for the road!”
Then some jackass walked in with his trophy wife. “Hey baby, nice pooter!” Ed yelled.
“Sir don’t talk to my wife like that. We’re Mormons.”
Ed later shagged his wife on the toilet. When he came out, he grabbed me by the arm and said “let’s go. I clogged the shitter.”
The manager came out and told us that if we didn’t leave now, he was calling the police.
“You can’t tell me to leave! This is a public place!”. Ed then sat down at the bar.
“All lives matter! And vaccines aren’t real!”
When the cops arrived, Ed told them “I’ve read the Declaration of Independence. I don’t have to carry a permit for this Remington .45!”
The cops drew their weapons and ordered him to drop it. “This is bullshit!” he said. He took one last sip of his Vegas Bomb and said “I guess this is as good of place as any” then almost opened fire.
An officer shot him in the ass and Ed groaned with pain and pleasure. “Can I get one more mimosa?” he asked before falling to the ground.
Ed was charged a misdemeanor for being a public nuisance.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d expect something like that to happen at an Olive Garden, but not at Applebee’s.
I haven’t been to Norco since I was mugged behind that high school in 95.
But I was taking Nicky, my dad, to Dale’s house in my mom’s Saturn Ion. It was a pleasant drive down I-10.
“You know,” Nicky said. “I haven’t been to Norco since I mugged a guy behind that high school in 95.”
“Well hopefully this will be your first steps towards a new beginning,” I said. “Say, when was the last time you’ve seen Jenny?”
“Not since you were born. I’m sure your mother is as beautiful as the day I met her.”
I didn’t reply.
Nicky looked out the window, taking all the sights that Riverside County had to offer. After several minutes of silence, Nicky said:
“You know, I’ve fucked everything up. I’m just a total disaster, a loser, a piece of shit, totally worthless, absolute garbage, just trash, deserve to be castrated, impaled, burned alive, and dumped into the sea. But if I’ve done one thing right in this life, it’s having a son like you. It’s made it all worthwhile.”
We continued to enjoy our drive as father and son.
We arrived at Dale’s cabin outside of town. Dale was outside, firing his rifle aimlessly into the air.
“Now Dale,” I said. “Dad gets depressed and suicidal frequently. So you might have to give him some of your unused medications from time to time.”
Dad went inside to take a nap while I went to the car to get his bags. Something glistened across the horizon out of the corner of my eye. I looked again at the eerie apparition.
“Fuckin Norco,” I thought.
Then the howling of hell echoed across the valley. A legion of bikers, renegades, outcasts, mohawks, and cenobites filled the prairie, ripping up the fields with their choppers, dirt bikes, and jacked up Dodges. Their storm cloud of dirt and smoke moved ever closer.
“Could it be?” I thought.
Dale stood in awe of the ungodly sight, paralyzed by fear.
“Dale,” I said. “Grab your G36.”
But it was too late. The ragtag army had us surrounded. The leather cladded gang bound both Dale and me and took us to an undisclosed desert location.
We were forced to our knees and the shrouds were lifted from our faces. A hooded figure, decked in black robes appeared before us. The figure slowly began to remove their coverings, revealing a face that neither resembled man nor earthly creature.
I instantly recognized this devilish being.
“Honda,” I gasped. Her face was no longer human. She was more machine than man.
She walked up to Dale and looked him up and down. “You. I don’t know you,” she said.
“But you, I never forget a face. James.”
“Honda,” I said. “What’s the meaning of this attack? If it’s money you want, then I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“SILENCE!” she yelled. She moved closer to us. “You know how I got this face. You know that you kicked my uterus into sterility. You’ve cursed me to wonder this earth as a nomad, as a castoff. Unwanted by the syndicate. Unwanted by society. This crew you see, we seek not money, or acts of deception, or extortion. We have one aim that unites us all: Revenge.”
“Okay, I’m sorry for kicking your poonan beyond repair,” I said. “But it wasn’t me that detonated all that dynamite. Randy did that. He was trying to cover his tracks. He never cared about you and Anthrax. You were both cannon fodder to whatever his deranged plan was. Come on, Honda! You know that’s true! It’s Randy you want, not me!”
Honda turned around in contemplation. After a long pause, she slammed her hands into the table in front of her, smashing it to bits. After standing over the wreckage, she directed her attention towards me.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “But you and I have some unfinished business.”
Honda then slowly lifted me off the ground, gazing into my eyes, and kneed me square in the dong.
I shot up on some ‘roids to help with my low T when I got pissed off.
“That mother fucker,” I though. “He borrowed $15 from me ten years ago and never paid me back.”
I was of course thinking of Nicky Wallz, a bouncer at a strip club I once frequented. I lost touch with him after the joint got shot up in a disastrous FBI raid.
“I’m gonna beat his ass,” I thought. But I didn’t know where to find him.
Dick was sitting there, cutting away a slice of deer meat with his sawtooth Bowie, when I asked him: “I need you to find me a Nicky Wallz.”
“Aye mate,” he replied. “The price es steep though lad. Ya donnae have a penny to yur name. I just a might be callin n a favour from ya.”
“Just find him.”
Weeks went by. In my restlessness, I began bulking and sculpting. I fought every shit heel in the bar that wanted some, smashing glass and busting heads…all in preparation for my showdown with Nicky Wallz. But Dick was dragging his ass.
“Hey Dick!” I yelled. “What’s the word on Nicky? I told you to find him seven weeks ago. You better not be cruising the the rest stops again.”
“Oy mate, I see ya lookin’ fit lad. But donnae talk to me like tha again. Or else I’ll stab ya in the scrote,” he replied.
“Oh you want some of this?”
“Aye I do.”
We both removed our shirts, displaying our perfectly sculpted abs and chest. Before we fought, we rubbed each other in oil…down our arms, down our legs…before removing our underwear, where I used the oil to rub his magnificent c—…..
Anyways, after venting my frustrations, Dick asked me, “Aye mate, why you bein such a snoot lately? What is it with this Nicky fella?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
“Perhaps I just haven’t noticed how the time has passed,” I said. “I’m getting older. I’m losing friends, acquaintances. Maybe they’ve moved on and I haven’t. I just feel like I’ve learned nothing. Nothing of importance. Nothing about myself.”
We sat in silence for a few moments.
Dick spoke up. “Well lad, I found him weeks ago but didnae wanna tell ya. Maybe let sleepin’ dogs lie yeah?”
Maybe he was right. Nevertheless…
“Where is he?” I asked.
Dick and I went down to the Los Angeles County Hospital, Psych Ward B. The doctor warned us to handle Nicky with utmost care. The nurses were handing out meals to the patients when I walked up to Nicky and slapped the trey out of his hands.
“Recognize me asshole!” I said.
Amazed, Nicky said, “James, you’re alive old friend?”
“Still?! Old friend?!” I said. “Where’s my $15 you piece of shit?”
“Is that what this is about? Money? Nothing else?” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“James, when I was 15, I was homeless and sleeping under a car. An older woman found me and took me in. She fed me. Clothed me. And gave me an education. We were close. Too close. We began a forbidden love affair. It was wrong, we both knew that. We tried to hide it, but the authorities found out. They took her away but not before we sired a child. That woman was Jenny, your mother.”
“Horseshit,” I said.
“Not horseshit. My only regret is never having the heart to tell you. After that strip club got shot up to absolute shreds, I never recovered. That’s why I’m here, because I just can’t bear the guilt of knowing who I am.”
Dick and me left the hospital in quiet contemplation. Could it be true? How could my mother have hid this from me?
We wandered back to the car then I pulled out a cigarette. I said to Dick:
Thank you to the wonderful, fascinating, intelligent, beautiful, outstanding, great, fun, hilarious, engaging, charismatic, smart, intelligent, super, warm, talented, and outstanding Sophie at the Starting Today blog for nominating this page for the #BrainstormsAward.
To think that people actually enjoy reading fart and cum jokes in addition to my occasional thoughts on movies and football is truly an honor.
Rules to follow for the Brainstorms Award:
1. Thank the one who nominated you
2. Tag your post with #BrainsStormsAward and follow BrainsStorms if you are willing!
3. Display the Brainstorms Award logo
4. Display the rules on your blog post.
5. Talk a bit about your blog, why you started it, what you write on and your goal for your blog.
6. Answer the five questions you have been asked.
7. Nominate five other amazing bloggers.
8. Ask them five new questions.
A Bit About This Blog
I started writing when I woke up hungover, confused, and fearing for my life in the back of a Ford Probe in Mexico. The cartel decided to let me live if I spent the rest of my life humiliating myself. Thus, this blog was born.
I try not to confine myself to any one subject. If I have a story, joke, thought, etc. fall out of my brain, I try post it here. I don’t really think of myself as a “writer” or as an artistic type really. Nevertheless I have a ton of ideas that I would eventually like to translate into a novel, screenplay, or whatever. So I like to think of this blog as “target practice”, if you will, to keep myself in the habit of writing (before the cartel uses ME as target practice 😕)
Q/A
1. What is your biggest regret and why?
When I was a young man (back in the 1940s), I stretched myself too thin. I was trying to go to college, start a career, and be a party animal all at once (being shot at by the Germans was a problem too).
I wish I focused on one thing and not be worried about everything all the time.
2. Can you do a cartwheel?
When my arthritis isn’t acting up.
3. Are you a lone wolf? Or extremely sociable and outgoing?
I believe that it was Cormac McCarthy who stated that drinking is a workplace hazard for writers. When one commits to the blogging lifestyle, there are many such hazards and obstacles. One HAS to be a lone wolf, even in social settings…even at the cost of their own mental stability.
That’s the price of art.
But as to whether I’m naturally a lone wolf or social butterfly, I guess it depends on which drugs I’m hyped up on.
4. If you could start your blog over again what would you do differently this time?
Write it on an actual computer and not on my Nokia 8110.
5. Who are your three favorite writers of all time?
God (for writing the Bible), Charles Bukowski, and Cormac McCarthy.
My Nominees
I’ve only been on here for a couple of weeks but the WordPress community has been awesome. Unfortunately I feel like a selfish bastard for not getting acquainted with very many blogs since starting here due to my manic behavior (and being in and out of jail). But I pledge to be as supportive for this community as you all have been for me.
That being said, the following blogs have stood out for their perspective, creativity, and hard work. They’re an eclectic mix of poetry, creative writing, science, and language. They all deserve a shoutout:
(Additionally, being the kind of lowbrow blog that this is, if you choose to participate in this award, don’t feel the need to give thanks or reference my page. I understand completely 😎)
Questions For The Nominees
1. If you could go back in time to prevent any disaster in history, which one would it be?
2. Which living person has the greatest influence on you?
3. What is something that you find overrated?
4. If you had the opportunity to relive your life, correcting all your mistakes, would you take it?
5. What is the routing number to your bank account?
Or
If you had to learn to play a new musical instrument, which one would you choose?
Once again, thank you to Sophie for the nomination and all of you for reading. I look forward to getting to know all of you. So feel free to comment or just say ‘hi’.
The Internet Ruined Everything 