Wednesday, October 22, 2008

A Clockwork Maroon

It was a lovely Friday afternoon, Brothers, when my mates and I left Lubby-Cock to travel to the Harvard on the Brazos for a bit of fun. Me droogs, Mike, Zach and John, loaded into the Durango. A quick stop at Wally Wally Mart for a load of C cells, a whip through the Korova for one for the road, and we were off! Our sad little third tier trade school withered away in the rearview as the Durango purred away a real horror show - a nice, warm vibraty feeling all through your guttiwuts. And soon it was trees and dark, my brothers, with real country dark.. Oh, the anticipation of it all ! A scrap with our greatest one- sided and most self possessed rivals! The thought made me shiver like the rippling of a spastic colon passing an Allsup’s burro-toro. A fair balance of the Ultra violence was afoot, and with a little luck, maybe we’d come upon the opportunity for a little of the old in-out.


After some time, we stopped at a diner in a peaceful little burg. It was a pretty little place, with the name The Green Frog. Mike, John and me-self went in for a quick spot of joe while Zach stayed outside stomping a small kitten to death. “Good evening gentlemen, what’ll you have?” asked the olden heifer behind the counter. “Eggiwegs”, says I, “if you please.” My droogs had the same, with waffles. Mike loosened the lid off the salt shaker so it would dump on some poor, unsuspecting wag’s steakiwegs as I spit into the ketchup bottle. As we were departing the fine eatery, I spotted a poor derelict snoozing away in a boozy dream state by the Bubbly-Wumpster. One thing I could never stand to see was a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away with “The Eyes of Texas” and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was. A few swift kicks with the old jackboot and the old bugger was moaning in pain. Johnny boy helped rinse the blood off of the withered coot's face with a good, strong stream of piss. We quite enjoyed our stop. But away!

We made slow progress way to land of the collie, what with having to slow down to try to hit the stray dogs in the road and with Mike wanting to stop and set fire to every crop we passed. John had a lovely time turning over the gravestones in a historic cemetery. We finally rolled in to town at 9 a.m. We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a night of no small expenditure. Still, we were not too tired for a bit of the old in-out. What we were after now was the old surprise visit. That was a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolent. We spied a young ladies’ dormitory. We approached and I knocked on a door. “Excuse me, Miss. Can you please help? There's been a terrible accident! My friend's in the middle of the road bleeding to death! Can I please use your telephone for an ambulance?” “ Well, I don’t know…” she says, eyeing the double T’s on me smock. ” Missus! It's a matter of life and death!” She foolishly unlached the chain, and we were win-win in the inn! The first thing that flashed into my gulliver was that I'd like to have her right down there on the floor with the old in-out, real savage. Me mates followed right along. It was rape, rape and more rape, except for Mikie-boy, who toddled off to poison the local water supply.

We neared the destination around 11:00. What do we see but a contingent from the local academic collective, all dressed in the flowery maroon of their pride and joy. Classy they were. Classy, and quite, quite hospitable. “Howdy!” they cried, “Howdy and welcome!” One of them handed me a small white souvenir towel. “We’re glad you’re here!” So nice and welcoming they were! I smiled a gleeful, wicked smile, and said “You know what you can do with that towel? Stick it up our arse! Lets get em’ boys!” Ahhh, my Brothers, we made quick work of them, we did. We beat and raped and beat some more, till' there was no one left to flog. Zach wandered off to loot the local food bank.

Dear Brothers, the next few hours were spent in joyful bliss. Batteries were hurled, along with insults and goodly amount of saliva and profanity. I pissey-wissed in a lemonade dispenser while Mike went to set fire to the nearest day care center. Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. It had been a wonderful day and what I needed now, to give it the perfect ending, was a little of the Ludwig Van. But all I could hear was the theme from Patton! Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off forever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever. Never to hear the theme from Patton again!!! But, dear reader, I couldn’t take myself past the brink. There was simply too much pain to inflict and classlessness to display yet in my life. I girded up and carried on.

It had been a long day. We had exhausted our store of batteries, and there were no coeds left to molest. My droogs and I made our way to the Durango. John made a quick detour to kick the teeth out of an old biddy’s mouth, and her dentures flew long and straight. Someone stopped him and asked him if he’d ever place kicked in high school. Soon, however, we were on our way to the South Plains. A lovely time had been had by me and the droogs. It is of no small misfortune that we never made it into the stadium. Did I mention there was an American football contest going on at the local university? Texas Technological defeated Texas Agricultural & Mechanical by a score of 43 to 25. There was a blocked kick or some such thing. They could use me droog Johnny boy.

1 comment:

Aphrodisiac Jackson said...

You forgot the part about us twisting off the Sergeant's nuts and feeding them to his amputee daughter...but you remembered to get the score correct so you're forgiven.

You write pretty.

John