SDTNTD: The Swamp Years
- Climb up a storm drain leading from a swamp. The fact that the pipe diameter keeps decreasing while the amount of sediment and water filling it is increasing is nothing to concern yourself with. And, there probably won’t be rats. Anyway, your friends probably have planned for popping the manhole cover at the end so you can get out. You might want to confirm this.
If you can get their attention.
If they’re still conscious.
- Go on a summer swamp run with Pod and the Camaro couple. Obvious point: Beers plus boardwalk = swampy feet. On the way back, roll up your socks in the window to “air dry” them. Check them occasionally by rolling down the window. Maybe you should grab them first, so Pod doesn’t have to do a 180 at 60 mph to retrieve them.
- Later, as you’re being escorted out of the Big Boy after your usual post-Miller meltdown, pocket all the mints while the cashier isn’t looking. Have a mint fight in the car. Three years later, when Pod thinks a mint would be really great right about then, he will still be able to find some of those mints inside his tape deck, or fused to the heater core.
- Go on a winter swamp run. Tackle Phid. Let him trip you as you run down a snowy hill. Snow means you don’t feel the tree stumps underneath the snow. Or is that what vodka means?
- Go on a different winter swamp run, on a “frozen” pond. Play hockey without sticks or a puck or anything. Try not to think of Damien: Omen II when 8 Barrel goes through the ice. He only got one leg wet, and so it’s hysterically funny (since it’s not you). Plus, he insisted on ordering pitchers of Beck’s Dark at Chaps on Main (like he always does) to go with the bacon bleu cheeseburger (that you always order), so he deserves a little shake up.
- Why do early Toyota 4Runners (which drive in swamps) have locking hub switches on their front wheels? What happens if you switch one on, but not the other? Somebody really should do an experiment.*whistles*
- Down the street from where the wheels of a red Toyota suddenly fell off behind Oakley’s Restaurant, go to a sleazy strip bar named after Lounging Mermaids (who live in swamps, if they are actually water moccasins). Go with your “little brother” from the frat named Chris.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Chris is a moron.
- Watch Chris insult the junkie posing as a stripper. She is obviously not an experienced junkie, because she has not hocked her breast implants for a fix.
- She is also not deaf, but she is pissed off about what she heard Chris say. She will finish her stage show by violating 13 city ordinances in front of, on top of, or pressed up against you and your other friends, just to show Chris what he lost out on by being a pendejo.Then she will explain to the bouncer whatever the f*** Chris did or said.
Probably something Penis, Lord of Scum-like, such as “You’re too skanky for this measly one dollar tip, so I would like $0.75 change.”
- Maybe this, being a point in time where you and your friends are still alive, is a good time to depart.*whistles*
- Right Now, as the bouncers follow you out of the bar, would be a good time to nonchalantly sprint to the car.
- Down the road from the lounge of mermaids, hang a left and you will be by the old hooker hangout. Travel back in time to when it is the current hooker hang out. Toy with them, along with Phid and 8 barrel. Pretend that you have enough money to pay them for sex. Pretend that you have some knowledge of what that (sex with a girl) might entail. Pretend that you have the literal and figurative balls to complete the transaction. You don’t, so yell at them, like you do every other damn night you drive by there. However, tomorrow when you are working the drive-thru at the BK Lounge, one of these *entertainment consultants* will drive though.
IMPORTANT NOTE: She is not like that drunk girl that drove though with her boob sticking out of her shirt (for some reason her order took 10 minutes, 5 of which involved you ogling la seno grande, unable to move).
- This lady brought her pimp. And, she recognizes you. Pray for an open casket for when they kill the shit out of you, so your mom can kiss you good bye. Surprisingly, being harassed by a carful of 17-year-old virgins [and Phid] is not the worst thing that happened to her in her life, or even that night, so she settles for calling you an asshole and warning you not to come around again, rather than hacking off your nads with a rusty knife (like that guy at Philmont wanted to do) and hanging them off the mirror next to the fuzzy dice.
- Some other time, go with Army Paul and 8 barrel to Wayside West. Army Paul will order everyone stingers or some other thing with gin in it. Since you are only 18, push the drink to the middle of the table whenever the waitress comes by. That won’t look suspicious. At all.
- Later, when you are REALLY intoxicated (with the equivalent of 3 beers over a couple of hours), go downtown to harass the hookers, who you have just discovered. Because you are retardo, stick your head out your window and yell “you suck” at that bitch that said no to free BJs.
Don’t pay any attention to the cop who was 100 yards closer to you than the girl (who was 100 yards away).
(Do the math.)
Or to the curb you just ran over. Or to the telephone pole you nicked with the fender of Mom’s car. While the cop is on your tail. Or to the alphabet when you mis-recite it (according to 8 barrel) for the cop.
- Instead of going to the swamp, just stop there to pee, when you, 8 barrel, Phid and Lisa are learning to play weedhunter out in the boonies. Everybody has a 40 or something equivalent, the good times are rolling, and you don’t have to be to work at “Osco Drug Food” for three more hours. Call it job-related research.