Olde English, cheap cigars, and AM radio

Brad and I enjoying nice cold cans of Olde English and a couple of fine cheap cigars. You can't see any Tenderloin hookers around 'cause we ain't home yet.

Photo by Jennifer

 

This followed the 1996 Cadillac Midgets-to-Mexico trip that set it up so I can no longer rent cars, so Bill rented a car in his name. We paid the extra coupla bucks for insurance (a lovely option where rental companies encourage stunt driving).

Brad and I picked up the new Dodge Neon with 2400 miles on it, and cruised about using the E-Brake for stopping and turning. We waved to the Tenderloin hookers while playing the Theme from Shaft on the AM/FM radio as loud as it'd go. Brad had to piss, so I nosed against a dumpster and floored it. The nice burn-out smoke screen hid the pissing Brad, so that no one got suspicious.

Pedestrians were chased back the curb through E-brake slides and a cheery, "Don't worry, it's a rental!" We drove around aimlessly harassing Bill while he was on locksmithing calls. Jennifer, The Art Student, was picked up to enjoy the deconstruction of a brand new car. I realized that my lifestyle requires an income that I'll never see. I need to live like a king, 'cause I'm only going around this ride once and if'n I need to step on the toes of a few rental car companies, than damn it, so be it.

So yeah, a night of driving around aimlessly. Just like high school only without the 12-packs of Schaefers and that Black Flag tape. The good stuff with Dez, before Henry Rollins destroyed them. Without the beer we got bored pretty quick and went home to watch cable teevee.

Jennifer, The Good Art Student, couldn't go to the cockfight 'cause she had to set up a go away party for a friend of hers. By no means was the cruel blood sport keeping so nice a girl away from chicken-footed death. I went home, got drunk and watched cable teevee. Some chicks were staying at our house. I offered 'em 5 bucks to keep their cry-baby Sensitive Artist friend out of the same room as me 'cause she looked like she wrote poetry. When they realized I meant it, they did it for free.

 

 

Run away! Run away! Forward to Death