Post by BuddyLove on Oct 22, 2015 22:12:51 GMT -5
The hitchhiker, for all legal purposes shall be known as “Tim”, was walking down the Nevada highway with his knapsack draped across his back. The sun was high in the sky above, and maybe even a buzzard flew by. Tim had been walking for miles, with no car in sight even to stick his thumb out at. He had been hoping to hitch a ride closer to home; for legal purposes it shall be known as Canada. He had given up hope for the day, but off in the distance, he swore he could hear techno music. It was slow at first, but very quickly, it sounded like a rave was coming down the road. He holds his hand up to block the sun, and off in the distance, he swore he saw a pink mustang.
Out of the blurry mess of the horizon came a pink mustang that had seen better days. The top has been cut off, as if done with a chainsaw, the sides were dented from god knows what adventure, and for some reason, there was a horse standing straight up in the back seat. Tim stood there as the mustang, probably doing one hundred miles per hour, screeched to a halt. Tim looked into the car, seeing an older black man who wore a Hawaiian shirt and gold chain. He was short in stature, and had a large white afro. He was in the passenger seat, with a larger white man, in a tie-dye tanktop, doing the driving. They both were wearing Aviator sunglasses; hell, even the horse was wearing the glasses.
“What are you looking at SUCKA!” Big Norm blurted out from behind his cigar. “You never seen a horse before?”
Tim looked at the horse, which was a rainbow of colors, and noticed how it didn’t move an inch. It was content, sitting in the mustang, with the sunglasses strapped to its head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but how is the horse in this car?”
“Peace, lots and lots of peace,” Big Norm answered, “and weed.”
“Ummm…. Do you have room for one more?” Tim said cautiously.
“HELL YEEAH WE DO SUCKA! HOP IN NEXT TO FRED!”
Tim gently hopped into the back of the mustang next to the horse. The horse never moved, even after the driver hit the gas and the car started hauling down the highway. Big Norm was laughing non-stop as the car barreled down the highway.
“What a dirtbag!” Big Norm laughed more. “Do you really think he eats babies too?”
The driver, a silver-haired ripped man, nodded silently.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asked.
“The world heavyweight champion, a real dirtbag, had a modest proposal for me. A MODEST PROPOSAL MY ASS!” Big Norm tossed the book he was reading into the air and pulled out a gold plated revolver as if he was Clint Eastwood and blasted the book into pieces. “How dare he eat Asian babies! I love Chinese like any other SUCKA, but eating live, Asian babies is UNAMERICAN! Reno Mustang, resident dirtbag, eating human flesh. What has wrestling come to?”
“Ummmm I have no idea?”
“And saying I have a big mouth? Of course I have a big mouth. I’m the foot-long midget. If you are a foot-long, you need a big mouth to please the ladies. What Reno don’t get, that it’s a trap to agree to a loser leaves town match. There is no way in hell Bishop will let the champ walk. Besides, the last time I was on a hayride, her name was Sally!” Big Norm fires the gun again. “He’ll see at Friday Night Riot. We get our revenge on that baby eating, high-profiling, wheeling and dealing son of a dirt bag.”
Buddy Love hit the gas harder. “We’re coming for you Reno!”
“That’s right Buddy. Reno knows he’s days as champ are numbered. He has that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense. We don’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We have all the momentum, we are riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than a month since Christening, we go up on a steep hill in Baltimore, look east, with right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark, that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back, as we kick that dirtbag’s ass.” Big Norm laughed. “And with a bit of luck, his life will be ruined forever. Always thinking of that time Buddy, the count of monte disco, the master of beads, and the moistener of the females, beat him like a mangy dog. And Reno, the vanquished dirt bag, will enter his favorite bars, that are full of men in red woolen shirts, will be getting incredible kicks out of knowing that Reno had lost to Buddy Love.”
Big Norm turned the radio back on and Hall and Oats started playing. “What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play this song right now, at this moment?”
“I thought those guys were alright.” Buddy chimed in.
“SHUT UP!” Big Norm slapped Buddy across the back, then drew his attention to Tim. “Not a word form you. Because of this man’s race, or maybe his booze, or his humor, or maybe just his money, this man is extremely valuable to me. We have fought, we have laughed, and we have conquered. Even after his savage penetration of every orifice of my mother with his throbbing, uncircumcised member…. Oh shit, I forgot about the wine coolers. Want one?”
Before Big Norm can offer a beer, Tim hopped out of the car, which was going one hundred miles per hour, and was never seen again. Big Norm looked up at the horse, which still didn’t move. Big Norm offered the beer to the horse, which immediately start to chug.
“Damn hitchhiker…. Doesn’t pay to try and help someone these days……. Well SUCKA, let’s get to Baltimore to kick a dirtbag’s ass.”
Out of the blurry mess of the horizon came a pink mustang that had seen better days. The top has been cut off, as if done with a chainsaw, the sides were dented from god knows what adventure, and for some reason, there was a horse standing straight up in the back seat. Tim stood there as the mustang, probably doing one hundred miles per hour, screeched to a halt. Tim looked into the car, seeing an older black man who wore a Hawaiian shirt and gold chain. He was short in stature, and had a large white afro. He was in the passenger seat, with a larger white man, in a tie-dye tanktop, doing the driving. They both were wearing Aviator sunglasses; hell, even the horse was wearing the glasses.
“What are you looking at SUCKA!” Big Norm blurted out from behind his cigar. “You never seen a horse before?”
Tim looked at the horse, which was a rainbow of colors, and noticed how it didn’t move an inch. It was content, sitting in the mustang, with the sunglasses strapped to its head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but how is the horse in this car?”
“Peace, lots and lots of peace,” Big Norm answered, “and weed.”
“Ummm…. Do you have room for one more?” Tim said cautiously.
“HELL YEEAH WE DO SUCKA! HOP IN NEXT TO FRED!”
Tim gently hopped into the back of the mustang next to the horse. The horse never moved, even after the driver hit the gas and the car started hauling down the highway. Big Norm was laughing non-stop as the car barreled down the highway.
“What a dirtbag!” Big Norm laughed more. “Do you really think he eats babies too?”
The driver, a silver-haired ripped man, nodded silently.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asked.
“The world heavyweight champion, a real dirtbag, had a modest proposal for me. A MODEST PROPOSAL MY ASS!” Big Norm tossed the book he was reading into the air and pulled out a gold plated revolver as if he was Clint Eastwood and blasted the book into pieces. “How dare he eat Asian babies! I love Chinese like any other SUCKA, but eating live, Asian babies is UNAMERICAN! Reno Mustang, resident dirtbag, eating human flesh. What has wrestling come to?”
“Ummmm I have no idea?”
“And saying I have a big mouth? Of course I have a big mouth. I’m the foot-long midget. If you are a foot-long, you need a big mouth to please the ladies. What Reno don’t get, that it’s a trap to agree to a loser leaves town match. There is no way in hell Bishop will let the champ walk. Besides, the last time I was on a hayride, her name was Sally!” Big Norm fires the gun again. “He’ll see at Friday Night Riot. We get our revenge on that baby eating, high-profiling, wheeling and dealing son of a dirt bag.”
Buddy Love hit the gas harder. “We’re coming for you Reno!”
“That’s right Buddy. Reno knows he’s days as champ are numbered. He has that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense. We don’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We have all the momentum, we are riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than a month since Christening, we go up on a steep hill in Baltimore, look east, with right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark, that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back, as we kick that dirtbag’s ass.” Big Norm laughed. “And with a bit of luck, his life will be ruined forever. Always thinking of that time Buddy, the count of monte disco, the master of beads, and the moistener of the females, beat him like a mangy dog. And Reno, the vanquished dirt bag, will enter his favorite bars, that are full of men in red woolen shirts, will be getting incredible kicks out of knowing that Reno had lost to Buddy Love.”
Big Norm turned the radio back on and Hall and Oats started playing. “What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play this song right now, at this moment?”
“I thought those guys were alright.” Buddy chimed in.
“SHUT UP!” Big Norm slapped Buddy across the back, then drew his attention to Tim. “Not a word form you. Because of this man’s race, or maybe his booze, or his humor, or maybe just his money, this man is extremely valuable to me. We have fought, we have laughed, and we have conquered. Even after his savage penetration of every orifice of my mother with his throbbing, uncircumcised member…. Oh shit, I forgot about the wine coolers. Want one?”
Before Big Norm can offer a beer, Tim hopped out of the car, which was going one hundred miles per hour, and was never seen again. Big Norm looked up at the horse, which still didn’t move. Big Norm offered the beer to the horse, which immediately start to chug.
“Damn hitchhiker…. Doesn’t pay to try and help someone these days……. Well SUCKA, let’s get to Baltimore to kick a dirtbag’s ass.”