i hate football. the only reason we go to the games is because our daughter is in the marching band this yr. well, we attened last friday's game, the band played "goldfinger" & "live & let die", & it was great. i couldn't really tell you much about the football game though, except that we lost.
i can tell you that there were a shit-ton of folks in attendance. there were handfuls of children flutterin' around like mad. many of them seemed to be grossly unsupervised. there was one little boy in particular, who at times sat in front of us with a little girl. they both seemed to be 7 or 8 yrs old. that little boy was an active motherfucker. shit, they both vibrated around like a couple of comepletely freaked out geeks. the boy's grandpa was seated just on the other side of the walkway. he somewhat paid attention to his loud talkin', mountain dew swillin' grandson. at one point grandpa & grandson were sharin' one of them turkey legs that i so desparately wanted, & grandpa ripped off a small turkey bone then used it as a toothpick. fuckin' wow.
i've never understood folks who feel the need to scream & yell all kindsa obnoxious ugliness throughout an entire ballgame. we all have moments of moanin' & groanin', & maybe the occasion scream at a referee. but, who in the fuck yells "ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT, ILLEGAL MOVEMENT!!!"? the fuckin' guy next to us, that's who. he seemed to be in possession of some sort of football dictionary. every minute or so, this man would yell about some sort of infraction of the rules or some call by the referee that he considered to be possibly the worst thing to happen to mankind since hitle killed all them fuckin' jews. the other team, according to this violently loud man, was constantly offsides & facemasking. at one point he was yellin' at such & such for "UNSPORTSMANSHIP". somehow the refs seemed to always be ignorant to all the shit that this man was so helpfully pointing out. poor stupid refs.
there was a pretty big turnout for the game. i bet next weeks crowd will be way worse, for it is time for homecoming. good lord. the mere thought of a mum, makes me wanna beat the shit outta someone. maybe shovin' of them turkey legs,from the concession stand, into my face will help keep me at bay. also, i'm bringin' a book this time.
Showing posts with label stories by fake dada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories by fake dada. Show all posts
Saturday, February 14, 2009
HIS NAME WAS JACK NICHOLS.
jack was a mentally retarded alcoholic. jack was my step great-greatgrandfather.
when i was a little kid, some of the older folk in my family were way too impressed with my ability to reset clocks for their electronics. i set alot of vcr clocks & helped program various bullshit electronics.
apparently jack remembered this.
i'm at home by myself & the phone rings. it's jack. it had been a few years since i had fidgeted with folks remote controls, but he wants to know if he can swing by while he's out doin' shit, & have me reset his watch. i unwillingly agreed to this. he shows up at my house about 15 minutes with his blinking watch & no instructions. he stands in my yard, i sit on my porch & mash buttons. five minutes later the watch is set. jack thanks me 4 or 5 times, puts his watch on, & says for me to hold for a second. he hobbles to his truck & returns shovin' 2 handfuls of change at me. i tell'em that ain't necessary. he insists, sayin' i could use it for coke & candy $$$. i took the 10 or so dollars in loose change, & jack left.
when i was a little kid, some of the older folk in my family were way too impressed with my ability to reset clocks for their electronics. i set alot of vcr clocks & helped program various bullshit electronics.
apparently jack remembered this.
i'm at home by myself & the phone rings. it's jack. it had been a few years since i had fidgeted with folks remote controls, but he wants to know if he can swing by while he's out doin' shit, & have me reset his watch. i unwillingly agreed to this. he shows up at my house about 15 minutes with his blinking watch & no instructions. he stands in my yard, i sit on my porch & mash buttons. five minutes later the watch is set. jack thanks me 4 or 5 times, puts his watch on, & says for me to hold for a second. he hobbles to his truck & returns shovin' 2 handfuls of change at me. i tell'em that ain't necessary. he insists, sayin' i could use it for coke & candy $$$. i took the 10 or so dollars in loose change, & jack left.
la michoacana - mexican grocery store, meat market, & taqueria.
one of my least favorite aspects of eating out is havin' to listen to the zombie-chatter that surrounds me. here, this is not a problem. usually the only english i hear is done by one of the cashiers, who are kinda bi-lingual. (which is way better than where i'm standin'. i can barely speak english, let alone spanish.) so, except for that of my own creation, there ain't no mindless nonsense bein' comprehended over here, mister. none whatsoever. and for me, this is great. but, on the downside, this here language barrier makes it difficult to place my order. in my head, this battle is well worth it. even if i wanted to pay attention to what my fellow patrons were sayin', i probably couldn't. my hearin' ain't so good, and this place constantly blasts tejano mucic, as broadcasted from a local hispanic radio station. and that's just freakin' awesome. i love me some accordion when paired with a horn section. also, there's a t.v. facing the dining section's eight tables, tuned to a local hispanic channel. this means gettin' to see women with half their body showin' and tons of absurd surrealist images.
now let's move onto the food.
they got lots to choose from, but i ain't sure what alot of it is. i know what some of it is. they got fajita style beef, chicken, pork, tongue, beans, and tamales. the basics. they've also got many other things to choose from. i don't ever see anything yuck, but i do see a handful of things that i ain't so sure of. for example, they got what seems to be french-cut green beans with some red colored somethin' or other mixed in. now, is that somethin' or other good, or is it nasty and gonna cause me to not eat it and have to buy somethin' else, so i ain't hungry for the rest of the day? who knows? not me, that's who. and i ain't findin' out neither.
i've had the cow tongue, and that was ok. i still ain't had the beef strips or the chicken. and i could eat their pork tamales until i puked and died. but, what i usually get is 2 to 3 pork soft tacos with grilled onions, cheese (blanco, of course), and green sauce. through coming here, i've come to realize the greatness of green sauce. LONG LIVE SALSA VERDE. they'll ask if you want some fresh cut onions and cilantro. they always seem confused when i tell'em i don't want these things. one time the cook told me it makes the taco taste so much better. (this i do not believe). also to choose from at the self-serve condiment bar, they have pico, a few different kinds of sauces, and these nasty lookin' green pepper things. with my meal, i usually drink one of them itty bitty 8oz. cokes in a glass bottle. this is the only pace in town to get a single glass bottle of coke. yeah, they cost more than a can of coke, and have less coke, but bein' a creature of habit, i get one almost every time i eat here. soon, i might build up enough courage to order one of them big ol' iced milk concoctions isee so many folks order. we'll see.
now's wheni hopefully get to sit in my usual spot. the last seat on the right, next to the drink coolers. i feel this is the best spot because i can see the t.v., and sittin' next to them coolers feels mighty nice. once seated, i inhale my food as fast as i possibly can, then i read. usually i have around 20 to 30 minutes of readin' before my time in heaven has expiered, and i return to the hell that is my work.
now let's move onto the food.
they got lots to choose from, but i ain't sure what alot of it is. i know what some of it is. they got fajita style beef, chicken, pork, tongue, beans, and tamales. the basics. they've also got many other things to choose from. i don't ever see anything yuck, but i do see a handful of things that i ain't so sure of. for example, they got what seems to be french-cut green beans with some red colored somethin' or other mixed in. now, is that somethin' or other good, or is it nasty and gonna cause me to not eat it and have to buy somethin' else, so i ain't hungry for the rest of the day? who knows? not me, that's who. and i ain't findin' out neither.
i've had the cow tongue, and that was ok. i still ain't had the beef strips or the chicken. and i could eat their pork tamales until i puked and died. but, what i usually get is 2 to 3 pork soft tacos with grilled onions, cheese (blanco, of course), and green sauce. through coming here, i've come to realize the greatness of green sauce. LONG LIVE SALSA VERDE. they'll ask if you want some fresh cut onions and cilantro. they always seem confused when i tell'em i don't want these things. one time the cook told me it makes the taco taste so much better. (this i do not believe). also to choose from at the self-serve condiment bar, they have pico, a few different kinds of sauces, and these nasty lookin' green pepper things. with my meal, i usually drink one of them itty bitty 8oz. cokes in a glass bottle. this is the only pace in town to get a single glass bottle of coke. yeah, they cost more than a can of coke, and have less coke, but bein' a creature of habit, i get one almost every time i eat here. soon, i might build up enough courage to order one of them big ol' iced milk concoctions isee so many folks order. we'll see.
now's wheni hopefully get to sit in my usual spot. the last seat on the right, next to the drink coolers. i feel this is the best spot because i can see the t.v., and sittin' next to them coolers feels mighty nice. once seated, i inhale my food as fast as i possibly can, then i read. usually i have around 20 to 30 minutes of readin' before my time in heaven has expiered, and i return to the hell that is my work.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Visions of Janine
Janine was my neighbor
for a long, long time
Janine has been a dope fiend of all shapes & sizes
for a long, long time
Her first son was given to his grandparents
by the power of the state
She gave birth to her second son while in prison
& her lesbian lover took care of him
With chaos bein’ the only constant,
It makes sense she’s dyin’ a horrible
Painful death.
***
There was a constant flow of strippers, bikers, & just generally scary lookin’ folk in & out of her house. Sometimes they stayed long enough to get some sorta drug fix or $$$. Sometimes they stayed for weeks, sometimes months. The only constant was chaos, the atmosphere would get too heavy for Janine to handle, & everyone would be gone, including Janine. Usually this meant she was holed up at the lake house. For weeks & weeks the house would appear to be totally vacant. What we didn’t know was that sometimes local dope fiends would sometimes break in, stay for awhile, trash the place, & steal shit. Occasionally Janine would pop by the house & come by to ask if we’d seen any activity next door. I’d always tell’er no, even if I had seen folks coming in & out of her house. I didn’t wanna fuck with the barrage of questions that would follow if I answered “yes”. Who woulda thought you would have to deal with such problems when dealin’ with these types of crazy characters? I figgered yr biggest problem would be tryin’ to decide which type of cookies to have with tea at noon everyday. Not “who sprayed blood all over the fuckin’ bathroom?”. One time Janine came over to ask if we’d let’er know if this asshole couple that had gotten kicked outta the house, was sleepin’ in the treehouse in the backyard. Fuckin’ wow.
To call Janine a crack monster would be a mislabeling of her character. She ingested a fuckin’ Technicolor rainbow of chemicals. She’d been arrested with crack a few times, methamphetamines, she had trackmarks, and one time asked me & my wife “ya’ll like to do GHB? That shit is badass. It will totally fuck you up.” Then there was the time she was comin’ home from the liquor store, with a big ol’ bottle of everclear, & smashed into another car two houses down from her house. The bottle of everclear busted & went everywhere. The big ol’ dodge ram pick-up truck with the big ol’metal bars on the front that Janine hit, hardly move an inch. Also, the owner of the truck (which was parked the wrong direction) was a cop. Not sure what the outcome of this situation was, but I do know that the everclear was a key ingredient for the “jailhouse” lsd they was gonna make.
***
was addicted to drugs, she
was still overweight.
***
even though janine
was overweight, she would still
wear really short shorts.
***
lots of teeth were gone
some teeth were only half gone
& some had turned black.
***
one time i saw cops
crawl on their bellies, through her
yard, with their guns drawn.
***
she’s bisexual
explains all the young, nasty
strippers that stayed their.
***
***
at one point In her life
janine followed
the heavy metal band
known as metallica
across texas
maybe further.
***
My wife was sittin’ on the front porch one day, & watched a buncha cops bust down janine’s front door with a battering ram. I was pissed that I missed out on this. If there was any sort of commotion goin’ on outside, I would immediately peek through the blinds. Occasionally you’d get to see somethin’ other than just a few curse words bein’ loudly thrown back & forth. Maybe you’d get to see some girl screamin’ her fuckin’ head off, run through the yard, jump in her car, & speed off in her shitty sports car. It’s like havin’ episodes of “cops” bein’ made just for you right in front of yr house. Yr able to see what happened before the camera crew showed up, & their ain’t all them annoying fuckin’ bleeps over all the cursin’.
Janine is now dying of cirrhosis, hepatitis of some sort (I like to think it’s called the XXX throwdown strain of hepatitis), & possibly a handful of other kindsa of bullshit. some of which may or may not be known to man.last I heard she had blood just oozin’ out her eyes. Just hearin’ about it, gave me the fuckin’ wiggins. And well, if she ain’t dead yet, she needs to be. ‘cuz that shit just ain’t right.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
the case of the day & a half runaway kid.
i had already been grounded for a few weeks for failin' some classes at school. this meant i couldn't go nowhere & none of my friends could come over. i couldn't tolerate much more of this bullshit.
one day i'm at the house by myself 'cuz mom's at the grocery store. my friend lucas calls to see if him & chad can come & hang out for a little bit. i remind him i'm grounded, but my mom's at the store for the time being, so come on over. usually these two friends of mine had decent weed on their persons, so i figgered i'd made a pretty good judgement call. about 5 minutes later, lucas & chad show up on their motorscooters & come inside. they immediately aske if i wanna smoke a joint out in the backyard. of course i say yes, but tell'em we gotta hurry 'cuz mom's probably gonna be back home in about 15 minutes or so. before we make it to the backyard, mom pulls up in the drive. she walks in, sees my friends, & i tell'er they just randomly showed up a few minutes ago, & they're fixin' to leave. so as i'm walkin' them out to their motorscooters, mom tells me to grab some groceries before i come back inside. mom looks & sounds kinda pissed. fuckin' neat. when we get out to the driveway, lucas let's me know that him & chad's weekend activities include goin' to lucas's alcoholic dad's house. lucas produces an extra helmet out of his backpack & tells me i'm welcome to come if i want. i don't even hesitate. i put that helmet on, got on the back of lucas's motorscooter, & we took the fuck off. it took mom 10 or so minutes to realize i had left.
the 3 of us head ove to josh's house to meet up with the other hoodlums who are also going to lucas's dad's house. we all smoked a good amount of pot, & everyone climbed onto their motorscooters. i think there were 5 of them. a gang of motorscooters. that don't sound tough or cool at all.
when we got to lucas's dad's, someone broke out some beers, someone broke out a bottle of mad dog 20/20, someone sparked up a joint, & we commenced to gettin' fuckered up all properlike. somehow, in the middle of this illicit teenaged dreamlike setting, a fight broke out. i don't think i had seen someone get punched right square in the face before. this kinda freaked me out. so i smoked some more weed & drank me some more nasty ass mad dog orange jubilee. after the fight, a few folks decided to fizzle out & head elsewhere. that just left lucas, chad, me, & another friend of ours named zeke. zeke was on the giving end of the previously mentioned face punch. i always thought zeke was a tough motherfucker, but later he passed the fuck out while our partyin' was in full fuckin' force. it's disgustingly retarded how much weed was smoked throughout the night.
after ol' boy zeke passed out, the rest of us headed outside. for some reason no bothered to mention we had keys to the car out front. we weren't supposed to drive it anywhere, & we didn't really want to. we just wanted it's stereo system. just the radio is better than no music at all. so we smoked dope in the driveway, with the car doors open, blastin' the local classic rock station. i was completely & totally content with the current situation, but i find out that lucas & chad are not. these motherfuckers wanna take their motorscooters over to the field, raise up the seats, shove a cardboard papertowel roll into the gas tank, huff the shit out of it, lay down in the overgrown grass, listen to the "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah" echo in their already bombed out heads, & fuckin' stare. i declined their offer to partake in their retardation, but agreed to sit & watch the show. shit was retarded. they were completely fuckin' gone. i just kept smokin' dope, & talkin' shit to them about how stupid & gross they were for doin' that shit. i mean, had they not seen that episode of sally jesse raphael that talked about the negative effects of huffing? well, i had, & i know that shit was most definitely not for me.
after the excitement of huffing gasoline wore off, we went to 7-11 for snacks. this is when lucas decided to take his bag of doritto's & squirt a shitload of nacho cheese directly into the bag. this causes the guy at the register to yell at us 'til we left.
during all this adventursome nonsense, my family had been tryin' to track me down. first, they called my bestfriend joe, & he told'em i'd left with lucas to go to his dad's. (this was not the last time joe would rat me out to my parents. fuck joe.) so, my parent's found lucas's phone # in my address bk, & got ahold of lucas's older brother who told my parents where to find me.
not long after wakin' up the next morning, i hear a knock at the door. my friends peek ouside, & tell me it's a large older man. i realize that it's probably my grandpa, & i sure as shit ain't about to ride all the way back home with him. so i run & hide in a backroom, & zeke talls my grandpa that i left the night before with some different friends, & grandpa leaves. me & my friends decide that i've carried this nonsense on for long enough, & i should go home. but not quite yet. there's still weed to be smoked & breakfast to be eat. lucas's almost bedridden grandma made us breakfast, a big ol pan of oatmeal with chunks of sausage mixed in, which she pronounced "slausage". shit was nasty, but made me not hungry anymore. sometime you just do what you gotta do, i guess.
after chokin' down breakfast, i put on a helmet, got on the back of chad's motorscooter, & went home.
upon entry to my house, i am ordered by my dad to turn my pockets inside out, take off my shoes & socks, remove my hat, & then i was patted down like a convicted felon. i asked to go to the bathroom & was told i could. i went to the bathroom in my bedroom. as soon as i step foot in my room, i realize that 90% of my pictures & posters covering most of my walls are gone. so is my t.v., stereo, cd's & casettes, & video games. besides bein' stripped of all my electronic gizmos, i was also sentenced to the house for 6 or so weeks.
that's ok though, i missed a few days of school during this time period, & chain smoked weed while i was at home by myself.
one day i'm at the house by myself 'cuz mom's at the grocery store. my friend lucas calls to see if him & chad can come & hang out for a little bit. i remind him i'm grounded, but my mom's at the store for the time being, so come on over. usually these two friends of mine had decent weed on their persons, so i figgered i'd made a pretty good judgement call. about 5 minutes later, lucas & chad show up on their motorscooters & come inside. they immediately aske if i wanna smoke a joint out in the backyard. of course i say yes, but tell'em we gotta hurry 'cuz mom's probably gonna be back home in about 15 minutes or so. before we make it to the backyard, mom pulls up in the drive. she walks in, sees my friends, & i tell'er they just randomly showed up a few minutes ago, & they're fixin' to leave. so as i'm walkin' them out to their motorscooters, mom tells me to grab some groceries before i come back inside. mom looks & sounds kinda pissed. fuckin' neat. when we get out to the driveway, lucas let's me know that him & chad's weekend activities include goin' to lucas's alcoholic dad's house. lucas produces an extra helmet out of his backpack & tells me i'm welcome to come if i want. i don't even hesitate. i put that helmet on, got on the back of lucas's motorscooter, & we took the fuck off. it took mom 10 or so minutes to realize i had left.
the 3 of us head ove to josh's house to meet up with the other hoodlums who are also going to lucas's dad's house. we all smoked a good amount of pot, & everyone climbed onto their motorscooters. i think there were 5 of them. a gang of motorscooters. that don't sound tough or cool at all.
when we got to lucas's dad's, someone broke out some beers, someone broke out a bottle of mad dog 20/20, someone sparked up a joint, & we commenced to gettin' fuckered up all properlike. somehow, in the middle of this illicit teenaged dreamlike setting, a fight broke out. i don't think i had seen someone get punched right square in the face before. this kinda freaked me out. so i smoked some more weed & drank me some more nasty ass mad dog orange jubilee. after the fight, a few folks decided to fizzle out & head elsewhere. that just left lucas, chad, me, & another friend of ours named zeke. zeke was on the giving end of the previously mentioned face punch. i always thought zeke was a tough motherfucker, but later he passed the fuck out while our partyin' was in full fuckin' force. it's disgustingly retarded how much weed was smoked throughout the night.
after ol' boy zeke passed out, the rest of us headed outside. for some reason no bothered to mention we had keys to the car out front. we weren't supposed to drive it anywhere, & we didn't really want to. we just wanted it's stereo system. just the radio is better than no music at all. so we smoked dope in the driveway, with the car doors open, blastin' the local classic rock station. i was completely & totally content with the current situation, but i find out that lucas & chad are not. these motherfuckers wanna take their motorscooters over to the field, raise up the seats, shove a cardboard papertowel roll into the gas tank, huff the shit out of it, lay down in the overgrown grass, listen to the "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah" echo in their already bombed out heads, & fuckin' stare. i declined their offer to partake in their retardation, but agreed to sit & watch the show. shit was retarded. they were completely fuckin' gone. i just kept smokin' dope, & talkin' shit to them about how stupid & gross they were for doin' that shit. i mean, had they not seen that episode of sally jesse raphael that talked about the negative effects of huffing? well, i had, & i know that shit was most definitely not for me.
after the excitement of huffing gasoline wore off, we went to 7-11 for snacks. this is when lucas decided to take his bag of doritto's & squirt a shitload of nacho cheese directly into the bag. this causes the guy at the register to yell at us 'til we left.
during all this adventursome nonsense, my family had been tryin' to track me down. first, they called my bestfriend joe, & he told'em i'd left with lucas to go to his dad's. (this was not the last time joe would rat me out to my parents. fuck joe.) so, my parent's found lucas's phone # in my address bk, & got ahold of lucas's older brother who told my parents where to find me.
not long after wakin' up the next morning, i hear a knock at the door. my friends peek ouside, & tell me it's a large older man. i realize that it's probably my grandpa, & i sure as shit ain't about to ride all the way back home with him. so i run & hide in a backroom, & zeke talls my grandpa that i left the night before with some different friends, & grandpa leaves. me & my friends decide that i've carried this nonsense on for long enough, & i should go home. but not quite yet. there's still weed to be smoked & breakfast to be eat. lucas's almost bedridden grandma made us breakfast, a big ol pan of oatmeal with chunks of sausage mixed in, which she pronounced "slausage". shit was nasty, but made me not hungry anymore. sometime you just do what you gotta do, i guess.
after chokin' down breakfast, i put on a helmet, got on the back of chad's motorscooter, & went home.
upon entry to my house, i am ordered by my dad to turn my pockets inside out, take off my shoes & socks, remove my hat, & then i was patted down like a convicted felon. i asked to go to the bathroom & was told i could. i went to the bathroom in my bedroom. as soon as i step foot in my room, i realize that 90% of my pictures & posters covering most of my walls are gone. so is my t.v., stereo, cd's & casettes, & video games. besides bein' stripped of all my electronic gizmos, i was also sentenced to the house for 6 or so weeks.
that's ok though, i missed a few days of school during this time period, & chain smoked weed while i was at home by myself.
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