Get 2 Choppin

Sometimes in our life there is a defining moment that can change how you look at people, places, or things. It shapes you like a sculptor shapes a work of art, that is a chainsaw artist making a little dickhead woodchuck out of a big ass redwood stump.

One of those moments was when I found out my friend was a vampire. I was resting peacefully in my bed while one of my buddies was crashing on my couch because his girlfriend had kicked him out for having no backbone so he burnt her house down, just kidding but seriously. Being a light sleeper, I got up in the middle of the night to get a drink when I walked into my living room to see my friend laying on his back with his arms crossed across his body and his hands resting on his shoulders. I freaked out because I knew he was a count dracula in the making and so I grabbed the wooden cross I had planned on using to kill Bellows with and I jabbed it through his heart and broke it off, but then I was like oh no I really, really wanted to kill that Bellows kid.

Another instance where that black light of regret and sorrow lit up my room showing off the glow in the dark posters of my life was when I woke up one morning after a late night out and the first thought that popped into my head was did I drive home last night. I pop up in my bed and run to the window. There is the car parked awkwardly like I was in a rush or “something”. I throw on some short shorts and a mesh football jersey and run outside. I walk slowly around the car looking for any dents, spider webbed windows or hanging bumpers; possibly any body fluid. Nothing. I think to myself, “oh no I spent the whole night driving around trying to run over Bellows and I failed. Damn I’m a little dickhead.”

The last thing I would like to hash out here has to deal with a little bad luck run I had that I think I passed on to one of my friends. First I paid for two energy drinks that I didn’t take because they were too warm but I forgot to remove the extra money from the tip so I paid anyway. Then my friend who had only ate part of his food and was saving it later, left it at the restaurant. So in essence he paid 20 dollars for 3 wings and a handful of curly fries. So I attempted to change my fortune and to take out some bad luck insurance and play some Keno with my friend. The draw after we are done, all four of our numbers hit costing us 300 dollars and the down payment money to put a hit on Bellows. Immediately after that, the Tigers blow a lead against the Giants and lose. So as I am about to hop on a flight for as far away from Michigan as possible, Toledo, I tap on my buddies window transferring my bad luck to his ride.

As I do this I know that I am basically putting my friends life at risk and I think to myself, “Oh no, why the hell didn’t I ask that Bellows kid to take me to the airport.” But then again that would have been a bit of good fortune especially if he perished underneath a turned over Miller Lite truck and a great laugh for all of us.

There are times in your life when everything comes together like a dog and a pair of peanut butter covered balls. At the same time there are those moments, those single events that make us stop in our tracks and with a long sigh and a roll of the eyes we exclaim Oh No!

We have all had those nights out drinking cheap dirty thirties of Pabst Blue Ribbon or Busch light and eating White Castle sliders at 2 am like it is our job. That is not the issue, those times are usually the best of times. The issue is the day after when your stomach is tossing and turning like a dryer with a pair of sneakers in it. I would have to say that a babyfood like substance coming out of your butt is not a good thing, but yet somehow that doesn’t deter us from doing the same thing the next weekend if not the next night. Where the Oh No! moment comes into play is when that next day you are sitting on your buddies couch with some friends watching reruns of American Gladiator and someone cracks a joke and next thing you knowing you are laughing so hard that your ass spits out a little poo like it was chewing tobacco.

Yes I said it, the dreaded poop spit. The instance it happens you stop while your friends are still laughing and reach your hands down the back of your pants and feel the wetness on the outside of your underwear. You pull your hand up and give yourself a quick unnoticeable dirty sanchez and the scent hits you like rubber dildo in the forehead and you just say in a slow melodic voice Oh No!

So of course you quickly remove yourself and take care of the issue as best you can by maybe throwing out your underwear or rinsing them out and putting them in a plastic bag or just shoving them under your buddy’s mattress and letting him take the blame. Then you quickly and nonchalantly head back to the place you were sitting, but Oh No! it is not quite over yet. Now you have a little gas and you think you are clear of the poop spit incident but next time you let one go the valve doesn’t quite shut as fast as you want it to and you got a little poop drool. It is like you just took a shot of everclear and you can’t feel your mouth but only it is your ass this time.

Oh No! is the only thing going through your mind cause you already ditched the underwear and there is no need to reach on this one because you can feel it running down your leg. So you sit there and just wait for old crusty crack to set in and you blame the smell on the litter box (hopefully they have a cat). Now the problem is after the drool has crusted over and you feel safe to let one go again, you feel a bit of pressure cause the drool is now like poop cement which is harder than a fat man’s pecker in a chinese whore house where they have a complimentary lunch buffet, so you push a little bit harder and then BANG!! Time to call in the Crime Scene Investigators cause we got some poop splatter and it is everywhere. Oh No!!! not again.