Chapter 4:  Oh Jesus. Not THAT guy…

At this point, Larry, who had just returned from a trip to southern Climax, showed up, hoping for some cheap thrills.  He was disappointed at first, seeing everyone ready to depart, but perked up upon hearing the agenda.  He suggested that they stop off at Osco’s to pick up some high speed film for action shots of “Sterno” bums pillaging Herby-Curbies as they drove past in the welfare Caddy he recently boosted.

The merry bunch had no sooner ceremoniously departed when John Q. Law happened by, attracted by the smell of burning polyester in the smog filled spring air.

“What’s all this merryment about?” he demanded in his best intimidating voice. The group was not impressed.  Larry, in his best display of extemporaneous judgment said “die you Nazi bastard” and piddles on the astonished officer’s feet.

John, looking down at his sodden shoes, made an unmistakable face of pure disgust. “Hey cornholer, primitive gestures of disdain are my constitutional privilege, goddammit! Go kill yourself!”  Dumbfounded by the unprovoked display of cojones, the pusillanimous peace officer had no alternative other than S&W .357.

“What a stupid asshole!” Larry laughed, as Kalamazoo’s finest made himself into rat kibbles.