Cripple-Shits and A Handful of Drugs
Mar 13, 2015 14:08:11 GMT -5
Oblivion, Odin Balfore, and 2 more like this
Post by switchfever on Mar 13, 2015 14:08:11 GMT -5
This subway bathroom is like some kind of subway-bathroom shaped time capsule from 1987. -Like I might get AIDS tonight. Ya, dig? I understand, at this very moment in the experience, You might be asking yourself, “Is he being literal with that comparison? Are we about to get some kind of Bill and Ted, kind of tale?” -uuuuuuhhhhh I duuuuno? Uhhhhhh, Maaaaaybe?
See, now I gotta be real rude with ya. - Cause I said Time Capsule. Not Time-Machine, idiot. Dang. Use your skull meat, brosk-zilla. Nah, for realsies I just mean that it’s got 80’s style graffiti, concert flyers all over the walls and a guy who totally looked like Lita Ford took a runny-dump for like 40 minutes. I’ve been fake-shitting/ hiding from the cops for hours. -Like 5’ish hours. My legs are super-asleep. -Sleepier than they’ve ever been, bro. “Unbelievably, sleeped up” would be an apt advertisement for them.
Switches is propped up on the tank of the toilet. “Good gravy, I’m bored outta my goddamned mind.”
Switches shifts himself around on the tank. “I thought I would get over the smell in here, but I swear it’s like steadily getting worse. -Like the smell is fermenting in my nose.” I turn my head around to see Switches pulling his shoe off. “Ah, that’d explain it.” I comment.
“Oh, shut up ya big baby. It smells fine in here. -And I’ve been told on numerous occasions, that my foot smells like heaven.” Switches retorts as he dumps the contents of his boot into his awaiting palm.
A plastic baggie plops into view momentarily and Switches pulls his boot back on. He dumps the contents of the baggie into his gloved hand. He sifts through a small pile of 15 or so pills. He divys the assorted collection and plops half of them into his mouth.
"Huur. Eaa dees." He says through a mouthful of drugs.
"Dude. What are they?" I ask as they are placed into my hand.
Switches is chewing the pills up, which must taste like hell. "All kinds of stuff, man. Hurry up. If we do get busted by the fuzz, I don’t wanna have to explain these mah’fuckas."
I shrug and swallow each pill individually. "I'm not gonna freak out am I?" I query.
"Probably maybe." Switches replies with a sheepish giggle.
"Probably not? -or I probably am?" I ask as a wave of muted terror washes over me.
"I mean maybe. Chill out, ya big poon. Be cool." He says before flicking my earlobe with a thunderous thump.
"Damnit. Ok." I say as I rub the pain away from my recently flicked lobe.
At that instant, someone starts yanking on the locked bathroom-stall door. We shush up and hold our breaths. We can see that the man is in a wheelchair and this being the handicapped stall, we are kinda dickholes for not giving it up. Switches cranks out a few farting sounds with his hands and mouth.
“Gonna be a few minutes, speedy. Got a bad case of the ol’bubble guts.” Switches barks at him.
“I really have to use it, so please hurry.” The guy sounds like he is a real nice fellow.
“Beat it, dick-lips! -Before I come out there and stomp a new asshole into your… your... right into your retarded fuckin’ face!” Switches screams at him.
Wheelchair guy tries to reason with Switches, but he is drowned out by Switches’ farting sounds. Wheelchair guy puts it into reverse and tries to ram the door down. -But he fails and gives up the battering ram plan. We watch his defective legs under the stall as he kinda props himself onto the side of his chair. We watch as a steady pile of shit stacks up onto the bathroom floor. I watch in wide-eyed horror as this scene unfolds before me. After the last foot of turd is jettisoned, wheelie hits us with, “Fuck your mothers, fuckin’ shit-birds.” -And he wheels himself out of the bathroom.
“Ya didn’t even wipe your ass, ya dingus! That’s why everyone hates cripples!” Switches shouts to the empty room.
“That was uncalled for, man.” I say in disgust.
“Yea, I mean, who shits on the floor? Fuckin’ animals in this city.” Switches replies.
The drugs start to go to work on me. I wave my hand in front of my face and it leads a streaking smear behind in the air.
“You feelin’ it?” Switches asks with a giggle.
“Uh, yea. It’s comin’n on strong.” I admit.
“Hey, get your phone and pull up some background on those guys I’m fighting at XIII.” Switches says as he balls up the empty plastic baggie and tosses it over the stall wall.
“Yea, alright. That’s a good idea. -Glad to see you’re showing some interest in doing some match research. I’ll see what I can do.” I say as I fish my phone from my pocket.
We parous the WcF website and flick through the bios and highlight reels of Oblivion, Mayhem and Apocalypse.
“Shit, son. I got this in the mah’fuggin bag, yo. See, fuckin’ Apocalypse is just your run of the mill douche-nozzle. Just a real pile of shit. -Not unlike that heapin’ helping of shit over there on the floor. Imma beat his face off and kick it into the crowd. And Marc Mayhem? Shiiit. Kid can’t even spell his own name right. It’s spelled M-A-R-K. I mean, gyaddamn, guy. Get your shit together. Plus, I mean look at his face. He’s got a super-dumb looking face. He can’t fight worth a shit, cause y’know, his face is all muffed up.
Then, we’ve got Oblivion. I mean I guess he’s alright but hell. He’s phoning it in. He’s bored to death with this shit. He’s just cashing paychecks at this point in the game. He’s like a sad-ass cartoon of himself, yo. Look at him. He should just kill himself and be done with it. That’d prolly be the best thing for him.” Switches nods to himself and kinda leans backward against the wall.
“I got this shit, bro. No sweat in these socks, just medium sized cocks. -As the old saying goes.” Switches says as he makes up some kind of saying that never existed.
Just as Switches is done with his pitiful excuse for match-research someone pushes their way into the bathroom. We hush up and Switches starts in with the fart sounds again.
“Jesus, who the fuck just takes a shit right in the middle of the floor!? Goddamn animals!” The guy is yelling as he tiptoes around the pile of human feces. The guy makes his way to the stall next to us and we can hear his zipper get de-zipped. I look back at Switches, who has his finger up next to his lips in the universal “Be quiet” signal.
Suddenly a huge mexican penis is pushed through a previously unnoticed gloryhole in the wall of the stall.
“You like to party?” says the guy on the other side of the stall.
“Fuckin’ bloody hell!” Switches freaks and lurches into a scream that crescendos as he blasts the guy’s dick with a powerful kick. The spanish cock is viciously bent sideways and pinned against the side of the crudely cut gloryhole.
Blood sprays from the side of the cock and soaks both Switches and I. The spanish pervert is screaming, obviously in incredible pain.
“Cheese-it!” Switches shouts and we bolt out of the stall and toward the door. Switches slips hard on the pile of shit, but doesn’t fall.
“I stepped in that cripple guy’s shit! Damnnit!” Switches announces to the world as we explode from the bathroom. We hightail it back to Switches’ van to go and get ready for the match.
See, now I gotta be real rude with ya. - Cause I said Time Capsule. Not Time-Machine, idiot. Dang. Use your skull meat, brosk-zilla. Nah, for realsies I just mean that it’s got 80’s style graffiti, concert flyers all over the walls and a guy who totally looked like Lita Ford took a runny-dump for like 40 minutes. I’ve been fake-shitting/ hiding from the cops for hours. -Like 5’ish hours. My legs are super-asleep. -Sleepier than they’ve ever been, bro. “Unbelievably, sleeped up” would be an apt advertisement for them.
Switches is propped up on the tank of the toilet. “Good gravy, I’m bored outta my goddamned mind.”
Switches shifts himself around on the tank. “I thought I would get over the smell in here, but I swear it’s like steadily getting worse. -Like the smell is fermenting in my nose.” I turn my head around to see Switches pulling his shoe off. “Ah, that’d explain it.” I comment.
“Oh, shut up ya big baby. It smells fine in here. -And I’ve been told on numerous occasions, that my foot smells like heaven.” Switches retorts as he dumps the contents of his boot into his awaiting palm.
A plastic baggie plops into view momentarily and Switches pulls his boot back on. He dumps the contents of the baggie into his gloved hand. He sifts through a small pile of 15 or so pills. He divys the assorted collection and plops half of them into his mouth.
"Huur. Eaa dees." He says through a mouthful of drugs.
"Dude. What are they?" I ask as they are placed into my hand.
Switches is chewing the pills up, which must taste like hell. "All kinds of stuff, man. Hurry up. If we do get busted by the fuzz, I don’t wanna have to explain these mah’fuckas."
I shrug and swallow each pill individually. "I'm not gonna freak out am I?" I query.
"Probably maybe." Switches replies with a sheepish giggle.
"Probably not? -or I probably am?" I ask as a wave of muted terror washes over me.
"I mean maybe. Chill out, ya big poon. Be cool." He says before flicking my earlobe with a thunderous thump.
"Damnit. Ok." I say as I rub the pain away from my recently flicked lobe.
At that instant, someone starts yanking on the locked bathroom-stall door. We shush up and hold our breaths. We can see that the man is in a wheelchair and this being the handicapped stall, we are kinda dickholes for not giving it up. Switches cranks out a few farting sounds with his hands and mouth.
“Gonna be a few minutes, speedy. Got a bad case of the ol’bubble guts.” Switches barks at him.
“I really have to use it, so please hurry.” The guy sounds like he is a real nice fellow.
“Beat it, dick-lips! -Before I come out there and stomp a new asshole into your… your... right into your retarded fuckin’ face!” Switches screams at him.
Wheelchair guy tries to reason with Switches, but he is drowned out by Switches’ farting sounds. Wheelchair guy puts it into reverse and tries to ram the door down. -But he fails and gives up the battering ram plan. We watch his defective legs under the stall as he kinda props himself onto the side of his chair. We watch as a steady pile of shit stacks up onto the bathroom floor. I watch in wide-eyed horror as this scene unfolds before me. After the last foot of turd is jettisoned, wheelie hits us with, “Fuck your mothers, fuckin’ shit-birds.” -And he wheels himself out of the bathroom.
“Ya didn’t even wipe your ass, ya dingus! That’s why everyone hates cripples!” Switches shouts to the empty room.
“That was uncalled for, man.” I say in disgust.
“Yea, I mean, who shits on the floor? Fuckin’ animals in this city.” Switches replies.
The drugs start to go to work on me. I wave my hand in front of my face and it leads a streaking smear behind in the air.
“You feelin’ it?” Switches asks with a giggle.
“Uh, yea. It’s comin’n on strong.” I admit.
“Hey, get your phone and pull up some background on those guys I’m fighting at XIII.” Switches says as he balls up the empty plastic baggie and tosses it over the stall wall.
“Yea, alright. That’s a good idea. -Glad to see you’re showing some interest in doing some match research. I’ll see what I can do.” I say as I fish my phone from my pocket.
We parous the WcF website and flick through the bios and highlight reels of Oblivion, Mayhem and Apocalypse.
“Shit, son. I got this in the mah’fuggin bag, yo. See, fuckin’ Apocalypse is just your run of the mill douche-nozzle. Just a real pile of shit. -Not unlike that heapin’ helping of shit over there on the floor. Imma beat his face off and kick it into the crowd. And Marc Mayhem? Shiiit. Kid can’t even spell his own name right. It’s spelled M-A-R-K. I mean, gyaddamn, guy. Get your shit together. Plus, I mean look at his face. He’s got a super-dumb looking face. He can’t fight worth a shit, cause y’know, his face is all muffed up.
Then, we’ve got Oblivion. I mean I guess he’s alright but hell. He’s phoning it in. He’s bored to death with this shit. He’s just cashing paychecks at this point in the game. He’s like a sad-ass cartoon of himself, yo. Look at him. He should just kill himself and be done with it. That’d prolly be the best thing for him.” Switches nods to himself and kinda leans backward against the wall.
“I got this shit, bro. No sweat in these socks, just medium sized cocks. -As the old saying goes.” Switches says as he makes up some kind of saying that never existed.
Just as Switches is done with his pitiful excuse for match-research someone pushes their way into the bathroom. We hush up and Switches starts in with the fart sounds again.
“Jesus, who the fuck just takes a shit right in the middle of the floor!? Goddamn animals!” The guy is yelling as he tiptoes around the pile of human feces. The guy makes his way to the stall next to us and we can hear his zipper get de-zipped. I look back at Switches, who has his finger up next to his lips in the universal “Be quiet” signal.
Suddenly a huge mexican penis is pushed through a previously unnoticed gloryhole in the wall of the stall.
“You like to party?” says the guy on the other side of the stall.
“Fuckin’ bloody hell!” Switches freaks and lurches into a scream that crescendos as he blasts the guy’s dick with a powerful kick. The spanish cock is viciously bent sideways and pinned against the side of the crudely cut gloryhole.
Blood sprays from the side of the cock and soaks both Switches and I. The spanish pervert is screaming, obviously in incredible pain.
“Cheese-it!” Switches shouts and we bolt out of the stall and toward the door. Switches slips hard on the pile of shit, but doesn’t fall.
“I stepped in that cripple guy’s shit! Damnnit!” Switches announces to the world as we explode from the bathroom. We hightail it back to Switches’ van to go and get ready for the match.
