Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
By the grace of Joe Pesci, I guess. Always stayed away from hard core opiates and never injected anything. Maybe that's the secret.
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Story Time with EG - ***OFFICIAL THREAD*** (The "Magnum Opus" is complete 5/17/18) (2 Viewers)
- Thread starter Evilgrin 72
- Start date
Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
Johnny Rock
Footballguy
Superior writing. It's like I was there.
Good Posting Judge
Footballguy
I think Fort Bridger was a stop on Oregon Trail.
Zow
Footballguy
Or not in prison?
moleculo
Footballguy
Yup.
Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
I wonder if that's why I remember it. I used to play that game when I was a kid.
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Long Ball Larry
Footballguy
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strykerpks
Footballguy
I've done my share of partying, and for some dumb reason, still do. I think I would have died if I had partied with EG in our heydays.
Still want to have a hundred beers with you some day
Still want to have a hundred beers with you some day
Raider Nation
Devil's Advocate
Such a gifted storyteller. 
I laughed out loud at these three parts:
I laughed out loud at these three parts:
Dan Lambskin
Footballguy
:subscribe:
Sabertooth
Footballguy
How did the cops not smell a full bottle of Jack, half a bottle of Jaeger and 8 beers?
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Baloney Sandwich
Footballguy
It really all boils down to them buying him being special needs. If they believe that they probably wanted no part in dealing with him if they thought he was drunk. Those folks have that next level strength and a drunk one turning on that strength as they try to cuff him would be the last thing they wanted to face.
5-ish Finkle
Footballguy
shadyridr
Footballguy
Courtjester
The Town Drunk
Great story. I really needed that laugh this morning.
Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
Officer Pete Malloy
Footballguy
regularguy
Footballguy
rockaction
Footballguy
mr fancypants
Footballguy
You and I would have been a damn compatible pair back in the day.
signed: Eminence
signed: Eminence
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Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
Funny you chose that word, around the time that a lot of these shenanigans occurred, I was a pretty highly ranked distance runner and swimmer and I've done a number of triathlons. It's only of late, now that I've put most of my excesses behind me that my life is more sedentary. I'd be willing to bet I was in much better health then.
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Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
If I were to fly to Salt lake City today and sit in one of any number of bars for about 3 or more hours, the odds are about 50/50 that someone would walk in, see me, and call me "Porta." That puppy had legs.Porta John
![[icon]](/data/avatars/m/5/5167.jpg?1660313464){kind=avatar}
Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
OK, I did a super short version of this one on page 2, but promised some day I'd flesh out the whole story. Some of this will be familiar to anyone who's read this thread, a lot of it is brand new.
**The Key West Story - Full Sequence**
Yams (from the Ox v. Yams videos), our friend Barry and I struck out on a fun but somewhat ill-fated trip down to Key West in late summer of 2002. Same two guys from the Orlando hooker story in post #21. We'd packed a few bottles of booze and a couple cases of beer in a cooler for the trip down and had an ounce of high-grade herb, reservations at a little Mom & Pop motel called the El Patio, and a few hundred bucks in spending money.
We rolled into town around dusk on a Friday night, blasting metal, smoking blunts out the windows - we felt the need to let this sleepy island know we'd arrived. We dropped off our crap and immediately went out to Duval and started drinking. Aggressively. We were doing shots every 15 minutes, pounding beers back - it got ugly and it got ugly in a hurry.
About 5-6 hours into this bender, we found ourselves in a bar called Irish Kevin's, so apropos of the theme, we ordered pints of Guinness and shots of Tullamore Dew. Knocked them back and a few minutes later, Barry got up to go to the bathroom. He took two forward steps, a sideways step, righted himself, took two more steps, then keeled sideways and SLAMMED into a table of young women enjoying their own pints responsibly. He grabbed the edge of the round high-top table to attempt to steady himself, but failed and went to the floor, knocking every beer on the table over in the process, most of them right into the laps of their owners. The girls shrieked and started freaking out, which instantly drew the bouncers, who descended en masse to see what the problem was. Yams and I sprinted over and hoisted Barry up, at which point the security guards made it clear that our presence was no longer required at Irish Kevin's.
We dragged Barry out to Duval Street, and as it was still fairly early, Yams and I were keen to keep the evening going. We were trying to figure out what to do when we look to our right and see some random guy sprinting down a fairly steep hill (for Florida) toward the street. Now, we're on the sidewalk and between us and this guy, who is running perpendicular to the street from between two buildings on the next block over, there's a 3-4 foot concrete wall with a wrought iron fence on top of it. Behind this fence is the hill that this guy is running down, it slopes toward the fence. This guy is FLYING, I have no idea if he was running from cops, tripping balls on acid, trying to beat a taxi fare, etc. All we see is him approaching the fence and he is not slowing down. In full stride, he leaps, attempting to clear the fence. Whether or not he knew there was a 4-foot drop from the base of the fence to the sidewalk, I'm unsure. In any event, he makes a mighty leap.....and comes up a few inches short. His toe clips the top of the wrought iron fence and sends him flying face-first down the four foot drop and right onto his face on the sidewalk with an audible "THWACK." A gasp of "OHHHHHHHHH!" comes up from those who witnessed it. I thought the guy was dead. However, I took no more than one stride towards him when he pops up and sprints off down the sidewalk as if nothing had happened. Except for the fact that the impact was so severe that it actually knocked one of his shoes clear off, you'd never know anything was amiss. He just took off, leaving his shoe in the middle of the sidewalk. Key West.
Anyway, we're still trying to figure out what to do with Barry, who's alternately drooling and collapsing on the sidewalk. We ultimately decide to shove him on a bike taxi and send him back to the hotel. We give the bike taxi guy $40 and tell him to get Barry back to the El Patio and make sure he gets into the room OK and the guy pedals off. Yams and I started heading back down Duval and as we're passing a strip club called Teasers, some haggard woman who may once have been hot enough to dance, but is now relegated to the street trying to drum up more business, starts "barking" her spiel in our direction. the following exchange is as close to verbatim as I can remember in my haze.
Barker : "Come on up ! No cover, 20 all-nude females ready to entertain ! Guys, you want to come upstairs?"
Yams : "Are you representative of the quality of women employed by this bar?"
EG : "Ooof."
Barker : "What do you mean?"
Yams : "I mean... are there a bunch of buffalo chicks in there?"
Barker (now getting annoyed) : "What the f--k do you mean? You trying to say I look like a buffalo? You..."
EG (jokingly, trying to defuse the situation) : "Heh heh.. no, he means chicks from Buffalo aren't very attractive..."
Barker : "I'm from Buffalo !"
EG (sighing) : "Of course you are......."
Barker : "I rode a motorcycle down here after my parents kicked me out of their house.."
EG : "What is this, a f--king A&E biography?"
Yams : "Look, are the girls in there good looking or not?"
Just then, two dancers come down the stairs.
Barker : "See for yourself, this is Destiny and Amber....."
Yams : "Those chicks are very, very..................average."
EG (doing announcer voice) : "Teasers !! Home of 3 dollar Bud bottles and the world's highest concentration of herpes sores !! Look, she's got one right there...."
Yams : "Listen, let's cut through the BS. Has anyone ever taken a dump on your chest?"
Barker : "What? No......."
Yams : "What if I slide back here when you get off work? I think I can hold this monster back until then. What time do you get off?"
Barker (actually seeming interested in Yams at this point) : "2 AM. You're really going to come back for me at 2:00?"
EG : "Holy s--t... is she even listening to you?"
Yams : "She's drunk. That's right, toots, I'll be back at 2:00 and I'm going to hit you with a Cleveland steamer. I might even do a chili dog - you know what that is?"
Barker : "You won't come back at 2:00 - you're full of s--t."
EG : "He IS full of s--t - that's what he was just saying. You'll see-"
Yams : "I am f--king coming back. I'm going to take you back to my hotel."
Barker : "Yeah, right..."
Yams : "I'm serious. You're coming back to my hotel tonight." (EG and Yams start to walk off)
Barker (calling after Yams) : "I'm sure I won't see you again !"
Yams : "You heard what I said. I'll be back at 2:00 and I'm going to take a huge f--king DUMP right on your chest. Bet on it !!!!"
Barker : "I'm not going to hold my breath !!!!"
EG : "I'd recommend you do........."
Several hours later, probably around 4 AM, we finally strike off back to the motel, as all the bars are closing for the night. We walk into the room expecting to see Barry passed out on the bed, but no. He's nowhere in sight. We checked the bathroom, down the hallway, no sign of him. We have no idea what to do at this point. I don't really remember much of this, but luckily I started running my video camera, so we were able to piece some of it together later. Evidently, we decided the best thing to do was to start shotgunning beers and blasting Motorhead at max volume on our boom box. At 4:30 AM. The tape shows us screaming and BLARING the song "Goin' To Brazil" over and over and over again as we shotgunned beers and poured beer all over the tile floor and one another. Yams is also bleeding from the ear in this video, we never figured out what happened there. Not long after, we finally passed out.
Cut to : 3 hours later. I'm blacked out when there's a pounding on the room door. I'm covering my head with a pillow, trying to make the sound go away, yelling "F### OFF !!", etc. After a minute, it occurs to me that it might be Barry, so I reach over, still in bed and supine, the pull the door handle, swinging the door open. The manager of the motel is standing there.
Manager : "Good morning, gentlemen."
EG : "Yeah, what's up?"
Manager : "You have thirty minutes to get your belongings and leave this establishment."
EG : "What? Why?"
Manager : "Well, for one, we had 13 complaints on our answering machine this morning about excessive noise coming from this room. And I suppose it's no surprise that this individual that I found by the pool this morning is with you."
EG : "Huh? Who?"
Manager : "That guy!" (he must have been pointing, but my eyes are closed again.) "His pants were in a ball on the pool deck and...........his penis was out."
I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but this struck me funny and I started laughing uncontrollably. It was then that I heard Barry's voice for the first time in a while.
Barry : "Who's penis was out?"
EG : "Barry? Dude, where the f-"
Manager : "Yours, sir."
Barry : "Mine? My penis was OUT?"
Manager : "Yes sir, it was."
Barry (resigned) : "Oh...."
Manager : "I'll expect you three to have vacated the premises by 8:30 sharp or I will be calling the police. Also, I have all of your names and any future attempts to reserve rooms at this establishment will be denied. Good day to you."
I rolled over and pried my crusted eyes open and asked Barry what the hell happened. We were able to piece together an approximation of what occurred. Apparently, he pissed himself on the way back and was kicked off of the bike taxi. Urine-drenched and wasted, he managed to find his way back to the motel, but not all the way to the room. Near as we can figure, he laid down in a chaise lounge by the pool, pulled out Mr. Johnson again (presumably to whiz on the pool deck) and then passed out COLD. That's exactly how the owner of the hotel found him the next morning - soaked in piss with his penis flapping in the breeze, in full view of the entire establishment.
By 8 AM, we were banned for life from the El Patio Motel.
Yams slept through this whole episode, so we had to rouse him and tell him that we'd been kicked out and had to get the hell out of Dodge. He was in a foul mood, so I threw the camera on to capture his complaining, which ended up being gold because he was griping about all the "water" all over the floor soaking his feet, which was actually the beer that he himself was spilling everywhere a few hours earlier. On the tape, it happens in quick succession, so you can watch him making the mess and then complaining about it 30 seconds later, asking "What ###hole spilled water all over the floor ?!"
Naturally, before we left, we had to burn one, so my brother rolls a fat joint using a page from the conveniently supplied Bible - thanks Gideons! We loaded up the car, Barry threw up, and we were just about to depart (it was about 45 minutes to an hour later) when the police cruiser rolled in. We ran out to the parking lot to meet him as we knew why he was there and didn't want him smelling the herb or finding the roach with bits of Isaiah 53:5 on it. Luckily, the cops in Key West are really chill, so he wasn't hassling us too hard when he saw we were leaving. Barry took the cop to the front office to apologize for his behavior to get him away so we could load out the rest of our crap and lock the room up before anyone smelled the ganja, so we did exactly that and by 9:30, we set out to find a new place to stay. This is not easy to do at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, but we found a place called the Southern Cross Motel right on Duval that had one vacancy left, so we snapped it up. The room wasn't going to be ready for a few hours, so we went to a restaurant across the street called Willie T's for breakfast. We watched the tape back and had a few laughs. At one point, Yams said to me : "You think the neighbors know 'Goin' To Brazil' by now?" to which I replied : "They know the lyrics to 'Goin To Brazil by now." When our check came, it read :
Wings
Wings
French Toast
Jager
Jager
Jager
Jager
To this day, we still call Willie T's bar & restaurant "Wingswingsfrenchtoastjagerjagerjagerjager" every time we see it. I had the French Toast and Yams and I both did two Jager shots to get things going again. Barry didn't do any shots, what a Nancy. So what if it was 10:30 AM. Unfortunately, as we were about to do our second shot, some drunk ### put his cigarette out in Yams' shot. Naturally, he drank it anyway. What a guy.
We exit the place and notice right away that another cop is standing there writing Barry a ticket, he having illegally parked. Barry runs over and starts arguing with the cop (different cop) and ends up not only getting a ticket, but getting his name written down for the second time that day. It wasn't even 11 AM yet.
Eventually, we get checked into the room and pass out for a few hours (I argued against this but was overruled.) Once everyone woke up and ate, there was a lot of grumbling about fatigue and stomach issues, etc. I'm trying to rally one guy who's 4 years younger than me and another who's 6 years younger. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do for stomach problems. A huge, warm shot of Captain Morgan with cigarette ashes in it. Yams had the video camera on and as soon as I knocked the shot back, I went right for the toilet (which was IN the room, there was no door or even a curtain between the toilet and the motel room - great for three guys with beer s##ts) and started regurgitating. Yams is filming me and cracking up as I'm alternately heaving and begging the Lord for absolution, when suddenly the sound gets to him. Still holding/running the camera, he starts barfing in the sink. Barry hears this and his stomach turns. He sprints over and begins heaving into the shower. The camera is panning back and forth around the room as this 3-part harmony of yorking fills the room. It's still one of my favorite pieces of tape ever, because you can hear laughter interspersed with the puking as the absurdity of this is hitting all three of us.
The balance of that evening was fairly uneventful until about 2 AM, with the exception of two bachelorettes enjoying a last week of freedom rolling up on my brother and me, grabbing us and basically tongue-raping us for about 10 seconds before turning and just walking away. Key West. However, things took a turn right as we got back to the motel. We got back in the room and Barry decides he wants to get a CD out of his car. He leaves the room and Yams and I crack beers. Three minutes later, he bursts back in through the motel room door shouting : "My car is gone !! My car is GONE !!" I refuse to believe it and ask him where he was looking.
Barry : "Exactly where we f###ing parked, that's where."
EG : "About 3 blocks south?"
Barry : "Yeah man, three blocks away, right where I parked. Someone stole my ###### car !"
EG : "It seems unlikely. There are no chop shops on Key West that I've seen and the 150 mile one-lane low-speed burn to mainland Florida in a stolen car would be a bit rough. Are you sure you're looking in the right place?"
Barry : "YES MOTHER##CKER ! I'm calling the cops, they already f##king know me for God's sake..."
Long story short (too late), he called the police and reported his car stolen. The cops showed up and took his report; Yams and I walked outside with giant cups of beer and chatted with the cop as he took down all Barry's information. There's a picture of me with this cop in MEH's profile, unless she took it down. I asked the cop to pose for a photo with me, and he actually agreed, saying only : "If this turns up on the Internet tomorrow and I have a giant pair of ####, I'm going to find you and kick your ass." He went on to say that there was little doubt that the car had not been stolen and that we should call back in the morning if we still couldn't find it. As he was telling us this, I look over and Yams is rolling a joint on the hood of the cop car. I was trying so hard not to laugh and give him away, but he managed to get it twisted without being seen. The cop bids us good night and we eventually go to bed.
The next morning, Yams and I wake up and Barry is not in the room. We walk outside and he's talking to a cop, gesticulating wildly and pointing towards where he'd parked his car. Yams and I rolled over and realize it's the cop from the previous morning that escorted us off the grounds of the El Patio. He made some crack about how he couldn't wait to go to work one morning and NOT see our faces. I told him I thought Barry might have been looking in the wrong spot for his car, and the cop said he was sure that was the case. I suggested we grab our bags and he pile us all in the back of the squad car and drive us around like prisoners to look for the car. Why, I have no idea, considering we still had almost a half-ounce of stinky weed in our bags, but no matter.
He begrudgingly agrees and we start driving up and down some of the side roads off Duval. Just as we get to the street I think the car is parked on, Yams farts for about 3 seconds, a really aggressive one, the sound ricocheting off the upholstery and around the cabin. I started laughing and was dreading the scent when I hear him say :
"Oh no, I might have just #### my pants....I'm not kidding."
I completely lost it. I was up against the window in the back of a squad car turning purple laughing. The cop yells out "WHAAAAAT?" and quickly pulls over. I'm exaggeratedly pawing at where the door handle would be, yelling : "HELP !! HELP ! LET ME OUT !! CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT !!!" The cop lets us out and sure enough - the car is 15 feet ahead on our right. Barry sheepishly apologizes to the cop. "You should," the cop says, "You've been here less than 48 hours and your name is on our blotter 4 f###ing times already and this guy just #### himself in my squad car." Barry tells him we're leaving right then and there and the officer says : "Good. Saves me the trouble of kicking your ###es out." We laughed and he advised that perhaps we try New Orleans next time around.
He then proceeded to give us a police escort out of Key West. Literally drove right behind us all the way to to the end of the island and then turned off as we pulled onto the bridge between Key West and Boca Chica Key and flashed his cherries for about a second to send us on our way.
-THE END-
P.S. Yams didn't even bother to check whether or not he'd sharted until we hit the Wendy's in Marathon (he hadn't.)
**The Key West Story - Full Sequence**
Yams (from the Ox v. Yams videos), our friend Barry and I struck out on a fun but somewhat ill-fated trip down to Key West in late summer of 2002. Same two guys from the Orlando hooker story in post #21. We'd packed a few bottles of booze and a couple cases of beer in a cooler for the trip down and had an ounce of high-grade herb, reservations at a little Mom & Pop motel called the El Patio, and a few hundred bucks in spending money.
We rolled into town around dusk on a Friday night, blasting metal, smoking blunts out the windows - we felt the need to let this sleepy island know we'd arrived. We dropped off our crap and immediately went out to Duval and started drinking. Aggressively. We were doing shots every 15 minutes, pounding beers back - it got ugly and it got ugly in a hurry.
About 5-6 hours into this bender, we found ourselves in a bar called Irish Kevin's, so apropos of the theme, we ordered pints of Guinness and shots of Tullamore Dew. Knocked them back and a few minutes later, Barry got up to go to the bathroom. He took two forward steps, a sideways step, righted himself, took two more steps, then keeled sideways and SLAMMED into a table of young women enjoying their own pints responsibly. He grabbed the edge of the round high-top table to attempt to steady himself, but failed and went to the floor, knocking every beer on the table over in the process, most of them right into the laps of their owners. The girls shrieked and started freaking out, which instantly drew the bouncers, who descended en masse to see what the problem was. Yams and I sprinted over and hoisted Barry up, at which point the security guards made it clear that our presence was no longer required at Irish Kevin's.
We dragged Barry out to Duval Street, and as it was still fairly early, Yams and I were keen to keep the evening going. We were trying to figure out what to do when we look to our right and see some random guy sprinting down a fairly steep hill (for Florida) toward the street. Now, we're on the sidewalk and between us and this guy, who is running perpendicular to the street from between two buildings on the next block over, there's a 3-4 foot concrete wall with a wrought iron fence on top of it. Behind this fence is the hill that this guy is running down, it slopes toward the fence. This guy is FLYING, I have no idea if he was running from cops, tripping balls on acid, trying to beat a taxi fare, etc. All we see is him approaching the fence and he is not slowing down. In full stride, he leaps, attempting to clear the fence. Whether or not he knew there was a 4-foot drop from the base of the fence to the sidewalk, I'm unsure. In any event, he makes a mighty leap.....and comes up a few inches short. His toe clips the top of the wrought iron fence and sends him flying face-first down the four foot drop and right onto his face on the sidewalk with an audible "THWACK." A gasp of "OHHHHHHHHH!" comes up from those who witnessed it. I thought the guy was dead. However, I took no more than one stride towards him when he pops up and sprints off down the sidewalk as if nothing had happened. Except for the fact that the impact was so severe that it actually knocked one of his shoes clear off, you'd never know anything was amiss. He just took off, leaving his shoe in the middle of the sidewalk. Key West.
Anyway, we're still trying to figure out what to do with Barry, who's alternately drooling and collapsing on the sidewalk. We ultimately decide to shove him on a bike taxi and send him back to the hotel. We give the bike taxi guy $40 and tell him to get Barry back to the El Patio and make sure he gets into the room OK and the guy pedals off. Yams and I started heading back down Duval and as we're passing a strip club called Teasers, some haggard woman who may once have been hot enough to dance, but is now relegated to the street trying to drum up more business, starts "barking" her spiel in our direction. the following exchange is as close to verbatim as I can remember in my haze.
Barker : "Come on up ! No cover, 20 all-nude females ready to entertain ! Guys, you want to come upstairs?"
Yams : "Are you representative of the quality of women employed by this bar?"
EG : "Ooof."
Barker : "What do you mean?"
Yams : "I mean... are there a bunch of buffalo chicks in there?"
Barker (now getting annoyed) : "What the f--k do you mean? You trying to say I look like a buffalo? You..."
EG (jokingly, trying to defuse the situation) : "Heh heh.. no, he means chicks from Buffalo aren't very attractive..."
Barker : "I'm from Buffalo !"
EG (sighing) : "Of course you are......."
Barker : "I rode a motorcycle down here after my parents kicked me out of their house.."
EG : "What is this, a f--king A&E biography?"
Yams : "Look, are the girls in there good looking or not?"
Just then, two dancers come down the stairs.
Barker : "See for yourself, this is Destiny and Amber....."
Yams : "Those chicks are very, very..................average."
EG (doing announcer voice) : "Teasers !! Home of 3 dollar Bud bottles and the world's highest concentration of herpes sores !! Look, she's got one right there...."
Yams : "Listen, let's cut through the BS. Has anyone ever taken a dump on your chest?"
Barker : "What? No......."
Yams : "What if I slide back here when you get off work? I think I can hold this monster back until then. What time do you get off?"
Barker (actually seeming interested in Yams at this point) : "2 AM. You're really going to come back for me at 2:00?"
EG : "Holy s--t... is she even listening to you?"
Yams : "She's drunk. That's right, toots, I'll be back at 2:00 and I'm going to hit you with a Cleveland steamer. I might even do a chili dog - you know what that is?"
Barker : "You won't come back at 2:00 - you're full of s--t."
EG : "He IS full of s--t - that's what he was just saying. You'll see-"
Yams : "I am f--king coming back. I'm going to take you back to my hotel."
Barker : "Yeah, right..."
Yams : "I'm serious. You're coming back to my hotel tonight." (EG and Yams start to walk off)
Barker (calling after Yams) : "I'm sure I won't see you again !"
Yams : "You heard what I said. I'll be back at 2:00 and I'm going to take a huge f--king DUMP right on your chest. Bet on it !!!!"
Barker : "I'm not going to hold my breath !!!!"
EG : "I'd recommend you do........."
Several hours later, probably around 4 AM, we finally strike off back to the motel, as all the bars are closing for the night. We walk into the room expecting to see Barry passed out on the bed, but no. He's nowhere in sight. We checked the bathroom, down the hallway, no sign of him. We have no idea what to do at this point. I don't really remember much of this, but luckily I started running my video camera, so we were able to piece some of it together later. Evidently, we decided the best thing to do was to start shotgunning beers and blasting Motorhead at max volume on our boom box. At 4:30 AM. The tape shows us screaming and BLARING the song "Goin' To Brazil" over and over and over again as we shotgunned beers and poured beer all over the tile floor and one another. Yams is also bleeding from the ear in this video, we never figured out what happened there. Not long after, we finally passed out.
Cut to : 3 hours later. I'm blacked out when there's a pounding on the room door. I'm covering my head with a pillow, trying to make the sound go away, yelling "F### OFF !!", etc. After a minute, it occurs to me that it might be Barry, so I reach over, still in bed and supine, the pull the door handle, swinging the door open. The manager of the motel is standing there.
Manager : "Good morning, gentlemen."
EG : "Yeah, what's up?"
Manager : "You have thirty minutes to get your belongings and leave this establishment."
EG : "What? Why?"
Manager : "Well, for one, we had 13 complaints on our answering machine this morning about excessive noise coming from this room. And I suppose it's no surprise that this individual that I found by the pool this morning is with you."
EG : "Huh? Who?"
Manager : "That guy!" (he must have been pointing, but my eyes are closed again.) "His pants were in a ball on the pool deck and...........his penis was out."
I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but this struck me funny and I started laughing uncontrollably. It was then that I heard Barry's voice for the first time in a while.
Barry : "Who's penis was out?"
EG : "Barry? Dude, where the f-"
Manager : "Yours, sir."
Barry : "Mine? My penis was OUT?"
Manager : "Yes sir, it was."
Barry (resigned) : "Oh...."
Manager : "I'll expect you three to have vacated the premises by 8:30 sharp or I will be calling the police. Also, I have all of your names and any future attempts to reserve rooms at this establishment will be denied. Good day to you."
I rolled over and pried my crusted eyes open and asked Barry what the hell happened. We were able to piece together an approximation of what occurred. Apparently, he pissed himself on the way back and was kicked off of the bike taxi. Urine-drenched and wasted, he managed to find his way back to the motel, but not all the way to the room. Near as we can figure, he laid down in a chaise lounge by the pool, pulled out Mr. Johnson again (presumably to whiz on the pool deck) and then passed out COLD. That's exactly how the owner of the hotel found him the next morning - soaked in piss with his penis flapping in the breeze, in full view of the entire establishment.
By 8 AM, we were banned for life from the El Patio Motel.
Yams slept through this whole episode, so we had to rouse him and tell him that we'd been kicked out and had to get the hell out of Dodge. He was in a foul mood, so I threw the camera on to capture his complaining, which ended up being gold because he was griping about all the "water" all over the floor soaking his feet, which was actually the beer that he himself was spilling everywhere a few hours earlier. On the tape, it happens in quick succession, so you can watch him making the mess and then complaining about it 30 seconds later, asking "What ###hole spilled water all over the floor ?!"
Naturally, before we left, we had to burn one, so my brother rolls a fat joint using a page from the conveniently supplied Bible - thanks Gideons! We loaded up the car, Barry threw up, and we were just about to depart (it was about 45 minutes to an hour later) when the police cruiser rolled in. We ran out to the parking lot to meet him as we knew why he was there and didn't want him smelling the herb or finding the roach with bits of Isaiah 53:5 on it. Luckily, the cops in Key West are really chill, so he wasn't hassling us too hard when he saw we were leaving. Barry took the cop to the front office to apologize for his behavior to get him away so we could load out the rest of our crap and lock the room up before anyone smelled the ganja, so we did exactly that and by 9:30, we set out to find a new place to stay. This is not easy to do at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, but we found a place called the Southern Cross Motel right on Duval that had one vacancy left, so we snapped it up. The room wasn't going to be ready for a few hours, so we went to a restaurant across the street called Willie T's for breakfast. We watched the tape back and had a few laughs. At one point, Yams said to me : "You think the neighbors know 'Goin' To Brazil' by now?" to which I replied : "They know the lyrics to 'Goin To Brazil by now." When our check came, it read :
Wings
Wings
French Toast
Jager
Jager
Jager
Jager
To this day, we still call Willie T's bar & restaurant "Wingswingsfrenchtoastjagerjagerjagerjager" every time we see it. I had the French Toast and Yams and I both did two Jager shots to get things going again. Barry didn't do any shots, what a Nancy. So what if it was 10:30 AM. Unfortunately, as we were about to do our second shot, some drunk ### put his cigarette out in Yams' shot. Naturally, he drank it anyway. What a guy.
We exit the place and notice right away that another cop is standing there writing Barry a ticket, he having illegally parked. Barry runs over and starts arguing with the cop (different cop) and ends up not only getting a ticket, but getting his name written down for the second time that day. It wasn't even 11 AM yet.
Eventually, we get checked into the room and pass out for a few hours (I argued against this but was overruled.) Once everyone woke up and ate, there was a lot of grumbling about fatigue and stomach issues, etc. I'm trying to rally one guy who's 4 years younger than me and another who's 6 years younger. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do for stomach problems. A huge, warm shot of Captain Morgan with cigarette ashes in it. Yams had the video camera on and as soon as I knocked the shot back, I went right for the toilet (which was IN the room, there was no door or even a curtain between the toilet and the motel room - great for three guys with beer s##ts) and started regurgitating. Yams is filming me and cracking up as I'm alternately heaving and begging the Lord for absolution, when suddenly the sound gets to him. Still holding/running the camera, he starts barfing in the sink. Barry hears this and his stomach turns. He sprints over and begins heaving into the shower. The camera is panning back and forth around the room as this 3-part harmony of yorking fills the room. It's still one of my favorite pieces of tape ever, because you can hear laughter interspersed with the puking as the absurdity of this is hitting all three of us.
The balance of that evening was fairly uneventful until about 2 AM, with the exception of two bachelorettes enjoying a last week of freedom rolling up on my brother and me, grabbing us and basically tongue-raping us for about 10 seconds before turning and just walking away. Key West. However, things took a turn right as we got back to the motel. We got back in the room and Barry decides he wants to get a CD out of his car. He leaves the room and Yams and I crack beers. Three minutes later, he bursts back in through the motel room door shouting : "My car is gone !! My car is GONE !!" I refuse to believe it and ask him where he was looking.
Barry : "Exactly where we f###ing parked, that's where."
EG : "About 3 blocks south?"
Barry : "Yeah man, three blocks away, right where I parked. Someone stole my ###### car !"
EG : "It seems unlikely. There are no chop shops on Key West that I've seen and the 150 mile one-lane low-speed burn to mainland Florida in a stolen car would be a bit rough. Are you sure you're looking in the right place?"
Barry : "YES MOTHER##CKER ! I'm calling the cops, they already f##king know me for God's sake..."
Long story short (too late), he called the police and reported his car stolen. The cops showed up and took his report; Yams and I walked outside with giant cups of beer and chatted with the cop as he took down all Barry's information. There's a picture of me with this cop in MEH's profile, unless she took it down. I asked the cop to pose for a photo with me, and he actually agreed, saying only : "If this turns up on the Internet tomorrow and I have a giant pair of ####, I'm going to find you and kick your ass." He went on to say that there was little doubt that the car had not been stolen and that we should call back in the morning if we still couldn't find it. As he was telling us this, I look over and Yams is rolling a joint on the hood of the cop car. I was trying so hard not to laugh and give him away, but he managed to get it twisted without being seen. The cop bids us good night and we eventually go to bed.
The next morning, Yams and I wake up and Barry is not in the room. We walk outside and he's talking to a cop, gesticulating wildly and pointing towards where he'd parked his car. Yams and I rolled over and realize it's the cop from the previous morning that escorted us off the grounds of the El Patio. He made some crack about how he couldn't wait to go to work one morning and NOT see our faces. I told him I thought Barry might have been looking in the wrong spot for his car, and the cop said he was sure that was the case. I suggested we grab our bags and he pile us all in the back of the squad car and drive us around like prisoners to look for the car. Why, I have no idea, considering we still had almost a half-ounce of stinky weed in our bags, but no matter.
He begrudgingly agrees and we start driving up and down some of the side roads off Duval. Just as we get to the street I think the car is parked on, Yams farts for about 3 seconds, a really aggressive one, the sound ricocheting off the upholstery and around the cabin. I started laughing and was dreading the scent when I hear him say :
"Oh no, I might have just #### my pants....I'm not kidding."
I completely lost it. I was up against the window in the back of a squad car turning purple laughing. The cop yells out "WHAAAAAT?" and quickly pulls over. I'm exaggeratedly pawing at where the door handle would be, yelling : "HELP !! HELP ! LET ME OUT !! CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT !!!" The cop lets us out and sure enough - the car is 15 feet ahead on our right. Barry sheepishly apologizes to the cop. "You should," the cop says, "You've been here less than 48 hours and your name is on our blotter 4 f###ing times already and this guy just #### himself in my squad car." Barry tells him we're leaving right then and there and the officer says : "Good. Saves me the trouble of kicking your ###es out." We laughed and he advised that perhaps we try New Orleans next time around.
He then proceeded to give us a police escort out of Key West. Literally drove right behind us all the way to to the end of the island and then turned off as we pulled onto the bridge between Key West and Boca Chica Key and flashed his cherries for about a second to send us on our way.
-THE END-
P.S. Yams didn't even bother to check whether or not he'd sharted until we hit the Wendy's in Marathon (he hadn't.)
Evilgrin 72
Distributor of Pain
Place holder : Preakness '98.
TheAristocrat
Footballguy
You rule, EG.
Good Posting Judge
Footballguy
Best part is Barry completely taking out the table and presumably ruining the night of the women who were just trying to enjoy themselves.
The Big Guy
Fear the Blitz
How you can even remember your name, let alone the names of places you were astounds me. Video cam or no, I can't imagine being able to piece together things like that years later.
Bruce Dickinson
Footballguy
"We'd like two orders of wings... one order of French Toast... a shot of Jäger, and a shot of Jäger....and, let's see here... a shot of Jäger, and a shot of Jäger. That should cover us. Please and thank you."
Officer Pete Malloy
Footballguy
EG is a regular raccoon tour.
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