Yaaay! Anither tweeker roundup took place last Saturday at the bottom of a deserted road in Welches Oregon.
There was quite a turnout since the weather had been pretty nice all week. Old habits die hard.
First we had the wet t-shirt contest. Several emaciated gals lined up onto a peice of plywood we had tossed in the mud as a makeshift stage. We blasted them with the floodlights that made them wince and howl. We told them to shut up and start dancing or else we would sick the dogs on them.
Andy popped a tape into the boombox and they all started gyrating. Razor-sharp hipbones and collarbones jutted through thier cheap clothing. Andy was getting exited. He had an anorexia fetish and what better way to indulge himself than to torture a bunch of spun-out chicks who were desperate for dope.
Are you ready to get WET! I screamed at them through a bullhon. They winced as the noise shedded through their brains, and half-heartedley moaned in almost-unison, "Yee-eee-ss". "I can't fucking HEAR YOU!" I barked at them. I let the air horn blast a couple of times which startled them into being a bit more enthusiastic. "YES! Were READY!" they shreiked in annoyed tones.
I pulled on a rope that dangled from a pine branch above my head that supported a huge plastic tarp that we had constructed over the "stage". A cascade of crimson gore showered down upon them. They shreiked and tried to flee after they realized what had just happened. We had obtained about 50 gallons of filth that had been scraped from the floor of a nearby hog slaughterhouse earlier that day to pull off this stunt.
The chicks were pissed and demanded compensation NOW as well as a ride back to whatever shithole they had crawled out of to partake in this evenings festivities. We told them not to be such spoiled-sports. They would eventually get what they came for. "Just shut the fuck up and get in the van!" screamed Jaques.
They piled up into the back shivering and grumbling.
Then it was time for the men.
Most of these guys had been up for a few days, you could tell by the sores on their faces. We had quite a motley crew. We had guys who had just recentley got out of prison, guys who were about to go to prison as well as a gaggle of younger, jockish looking twits with their saggy ass pants and Tommy Hilfigger bullshit.
We were going to play a game called "wheres the dope".
"Kind of like and Easter Egg hunt", said Jaques. "Even the ladies can participate!" I shouted, causing the blood splattered damsels to file out of the van and take notice. We told them before we began they had to pair up into teams of two. After this was done we had each team stand side by side as we taped them together at the waist and taped one of each of their legs together so that they resembled two-headed, three-legged meth monsters.
Jaques stood in the circle of teams and announced the rules. "Allright, each team has a half-hour to find as much dope as possible. We have buried a half pound of crank in this clearing in various spots. Whoever finds the most dope not only gets to keep it, but they also get a special prize".
He didn't even get to finish his speech before the teams were scrambling about. It was hilarious to watch a couple of taped-together tweekers scrample about ripping up the ground. Some tried breifly to free themselves from their bonds so they could resume the hunt on thier own, Jaques angrily barked at them that this was aganist the rules and that teams who had managed to seperate themselves would not only be disqualified, but would be dropped in town naked with swastikas carved all over their bodies in the worst black neighborhood in town.
As the games continued, Terry and I slunk away after we had set up all the cameras to record the outcome of the hunt. Little did those tweekers know the "dope" they were hunting for was nothing more than a combonation of earwax and dandruff that Jaques, David, Molli, Laura, Anton and I had been saving up for months mixed up with a little super-shine inostitol to give it that convincing chemical glint.
We laughed all the way home. We laughed until we cried. We laughed until we thought our stomachs would rupture. The thought of some hard-up dope feind snorting up a fat rail of our bodily waste was almost too much for us to bear. We had transcended all of our previous expectations....
We were on our way to becoming gods.
There was quite a turnout since the weather had been pretty nice all week. Old habits die hard.
First we had the wet t-shirt contest. Several emaciated gals lined up onto a peice of plywood we had tossed in the mud as a makeshift stage. We blasted them with the floodlights that made them wince and howl. We told them to shut up and start dancing or else we would sick the dogs on them.
Andy popped a tape into the boombox and they all started gyrating. Razor-sharp hipbones and collarbones jutted through thier cheap clothing. Andy was getting exited. He had an anorexia fetish and what better way to indulge himself than to torture a bunch of spun-out chicks who were desperate for dope.
Are you ready to get WET! I screamed at them through a bullhon. They winced as the noise shedded through their brains, and half-heartedley moaned in almost-unison, "Yee-eee-ss". "I can't fucking HEAR YOU!" I barked at them. I let the air horn blast a couple of times which startled them into being a bit more enthusiastic. "YES! Were READY!" they shreiked in annoyed tones.
I pulled on a rope that dangled from a pine branch above my head that supported a huge plastic tarp that we had constructed over the "stage". A cascade of crimson gore showered down upon them. They shreiked and tried to flee after they realized what had just happened. We had obtained about 50 gallons of filth that had been scraped from the floor of a nearby hog slaughterhouse earlier that day to pull off this stunt.
The chicks were pissed and demanded compensation NOW as well as a ride back to whatever shithole they had crawled out of to partake in this evenings festivities. We told them not to be such spoiled-sports. They would eventually get what they came for. "Just shut the fuck up and get in the van!" screamed Jaques.
They piled up into the back shivering and grumbling.
Then it was time for the men.
Most of these guys had been up for a few days, you could tell by the sores on their faces. We had quite a motley crew. We had guys who had just recentley got out of prison, guys who were about to go to prison as well as a gaggle of younger, jockish looking twits with their saggy ass pants and Tommy Hilfigger bullshit.
We were going to play a game called "wheres the dope".
"Kind of like and Easter Egg hunt", said Jaques. "Even the ladies can participate!" I shouted, causing the blood splattered damsels to file out of the van and take notice. We told them before we began they had to pair up into teams of two. After this was done we had each team stand side by side as we taped them together at the waist and taped one of each of their legs together so that they resembled two-headed, three-legged meth monsters.
Jaques stood in the circle of teams and announced the rules. "Allright, each team has a half-hour to find as much dope as possible. We have buried a half pound of crank in this clearing in various spots. Whoever finds the most dope not only gets to keep it, but they also get a special prize".
He didn't even get to finish his speech before the teams were scrambling about. It was hilarious to watch a couple of taped-together tweekers scrample about ripping up the ground. Some tried breifly to free themselves from their bonds so they could resume the hunt on thier own, Jaques angrily barked at them that this was aganist the rules and that teams who had managed to seperate themselves would not only be disqualified, but would be dropped in town naked with swastikas carved all over their bodies in the worst black neighborhood in town.
As the games continued, Terry and I slunk away after we had set up all the cameras to record the outcome of the hunt. Little did those tweekers know the "dope" they were hunting for was nothing more than a combonation of earwax and dandruff that Jaques, David, Molli, Laura, Anton and I had been saving up for months mixed up with a little super-shine inostitol to give it that convincing chemical glint.
We laughed all the way home. We laughed until we cried. We laughed until we thought our stomachs would rupture. The thought of some hard-up dope feind snorting up a fat rail of our bodily waste was almost too much for us to bear. We had transcended all of our previous expectations....
We were on our way to becoming gods.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
that was a radical prank!
sadistic gods..