That is a typical Canadian girl. Note labels on the beer.
ATER, WHEN WE WERE VISIT,
ing Wino Bob—a Negro derelict
and alcoholic who lives
in an oleander hedge behind
. a 7-Eleven—1 asked him
i whal would be the ideal liquor
for. a special occasion.
"What kind of special occasion?" he inquired
in the dialect of a wasted bum.
"The special occasion of Stiggs and my
both getting Mexican mall lawyers aiul
of us linally arranging dates with the
Sluts de Boxcar." 1 said, "boxcars"'
meaning a pair of sixes, which is the
total number of duds and stepdads thai
Robin Salsbury and Charlotte Pinckney
have—six each—a record.
Naturally, this type of family situation
is only available at Jodsten. the private
boarding school in our area
featuring massive programs of horseback
riding, hiking, water sports, polo,
and a whole bunch of other things that
rich divorcees with six husbands figure
their hopelessly fuckcd-up kids might
like to do, a thousand miles from home,
continuously from preschool until
they're old enough to cash in a trust
fund or kill themselves. The key expression
here, of course, is "hopelessly
fucked up," which is why me and Sliggs
have always had a special sentiment for
the females of Jodsten and. in particular,
for the Sluts de Boxcar, whom we
regard as supreme beings.
"Cachacha," Wino Bob advised. "A
fine, crystal-clear Brazilian drink—a favorite
of Latins and women alike" So
we gave Bob the usual token cash to
cover his own poison wine needs, and
later, after he returned from the liquor
store wilh our cachacha. we accompanied
him to a nest of old blankets beside
the oleander hedge and listened to
one of his slurred chunks of advice for
youngsters. "You gotta have a good
woman!' lie said, wearily settling into a.
Wino Bob-ass-conforming crater of
blankets. "Thai's what every man's gotty.
have for himself if he ever expects to
make it."
Me and Stiggs thought instantly of i and telling us that he was going to die.
the Sluts de Boxcar and the possible
helpful effect they would have on us
making something of our lives. "Believe
me. I know' Bob added, staring dully at
this green bottle of wine. "That's right."
I commented. "A good woman would
prune back these oleanders for you.
Bob. maybe even paw out a little depression
in the dirt beneath those
blankets, make your ass a little more
comfortable." Bob wasn't listening,
however, because he was preoccupied
with twisting off the cap on his wine
Later me and Stiggs discussed the effect
a dead Bob would have on our
access to liquor, but after a while we
made an unspoken point of not lingering
too much on the subject-a practice
completely alien to both of us. Besides,
the Jodsten bus would be coming soon,
filled to the limit with hot. maladjusted
slags who, because of the school's completely
laughable boning-prevention
policy, are only allowed into town one
night a week, and are only supposed to
check off the bus in pairs—the pair of Robin and Charlotte, of course, being
the critical one.
"Brazilian alcohol?" I asked Robin
about five minutes after she'd gotten off
the bus and climbed into mv car and
dumped a dozen plastic bottles of pills
on my seat. "Xo/wfm.'" Sliggs bewail
screaming in the backseat, throttling
Charlottes neck. She had never met
Stiggs before and was thus jolted by his amazingly fierce threat that he wouldn't
eive her [lie pork unless she and Robin
Bought us full-course French lobster
dinners, with spare lobsters for after sex.
So we drank the cachacha and ate
the pills and went to La Chamerique- -
premiere home of French lobsters and
elegant, totally quiet dining. "Hut everything
on twelve separate checks!" Stiggs
informed die headwaiter. "These girls
have a total of twelve dads, so we figure
the ridiculous expenses of their lobstercrazed
daughters should be spread out
to all of them. This means that we'll demand
that their real dads pay us back
foi check number one and check number
two. which should onlv be for the
main parts of' our meal. like, for example,
the lobsters.
Then the other ten
dads will get the rest of the checks,
which should be divided up like this—
dad three: bottles of wine; dad four:
bowls of salad; dad live: bowls of soup;
dad six; mounds of appeii/ers 1. dad
seven: bottles of champagne; dad eight:
bottles of liqueurs; dad nine; bottles of
cognac: dad ten: mounds of dessert;
dad eleven; mounds of desserts on lire;
and. dad twelve: the tip.
"Since these girls are slags and from
Jodsten." Stiggs continued, "they're naturallv
filled to the eyeballs with pills and
Bra/ilian liquor, so I figure you should
force them to put up an advance security
deposit of about five hundred dollars
for this meal, which you could use
to cover the actual total of the checks
rather than try to collect the money
after we're through eating, since these
slags will be snoring by then and maybe
even be dead"
Me and Stiggs ale a record nine lobsters,
although we ordered twenty altogether
so we'd be sure to have enough
pincers and eye stalks to cannibalize for
the La Chamcriquetyville Horror—a
terrifying, three-foot-long monster we
generally like to make from souffles,
lobsters, and lettuce in restaurants
where people will want to kill us for
58 October 1982 Copyright Tod Carroll and Ted Mann, Oct 1982 (c) Renewed 2011
doing it. The La Chameriquetyville
Horror was one of our best monsters,
designed like a giani queen termite, but
with the added aspect of two hundred
dorsal fins and crab fork antennae that
could be moved to make a tongue of'
lettuce slide in and out of the mouth.
"You'll have to leave." the maitre d'
said, just after Sliggs had bravely
stopped the monster from attacking the
next table. "Remove that pile of food
from the floor and get out"
Me and Stiggs were stunned; the
Sluts de Boxcar weren't, however, because
they were snoring. Stiggs hauled
himself up from his dramatic foodmonster
combat position on the floor
while 1 collected our twelve different
checks and what was left over from the $500 advance payment—$172—which
we used immediately afterward to buy
thirty fan belts to throw out the car
windows.
"Who wants to go swimming?"
Stiggs asked as we were later driving
through this incredibly fashionable
place called Clearwater Estates at
eighty-five miles an hour to wake up the girls."
/END
"Unknown Christine Ford reenactor"
Is that Alex Soros clone behind those Ford Foundation Grants?
Hilldawgs.
If you use you research skills you could find user stats. If you lack those skills you should develop them and reason or you will be dependent on others for information.
Hilldawgs!
Shill Team Six
this Hilldawg is for you!
Shills! Shills! Shills!
You can't divide HILLDAWGS!!!
Shill been waiting for this…
They never thought she'd lose…
It was a tractor tire hit the pentagram shills.
They never thought
satanic mind control alter victim, this Hilldawg's for you!
If only, shills….
notable
Once thought DJT got set up by the cult in NJ. never thought he would let an employee wear a wire. There are ways to insure it does not happen. Unless, for some reason such as the poster suggest, you want it to.