A straight 9

- No, you gotta park at this angle.  She should only see the driver's side and but for a moment.  Under the right light the paint's black, turquoise and orange—Here's good.
- Like this?
- Well, this spot's ideal because as they walk out from the classroom, you can hit 'em with #3 real quick, just enough to daze her while I run out shotgun in case she wanders into traffic.  We don't want no road kill on our record, too.
- What if—
- And they can't see the right bumper or the railing memento from this side.
- What if it's a feminist course?  They can come out real pumped up.
- Trial and error, I guess.  You may have to switch back and forth from 3 to 6, slide or tilt depending on the sunrays or surroundings, but you can't jam it up.  No hesitation—we ain't gotta worry about no fender bender now—
- Just shoot to thrill.
- Maybe just her jumping on the car... And I could probably nail her with something to seal the deal real easy right there under the sunlight.  Take her to some souvenir shop nearby—I'll introduce myself, signify my intentions and feel out hers.
- Probably go with the straight 9, huh?
- Most likely, maybe there'll be a quick breeze; you can be working on some new calibrations we can tweak or add to the arsenal later.
- This could be a newfoundland for us.  
- Oh, no doubt.
- Tired of having to leave notes on parked cars.
- And new paint jobs...definitely 
- We're low on funds as it is.
- If we can perfect this—Well, we gotta, at least for now, since I ain't got no license anymore.
- Man, I thought you were hitting her with some potent angles back there.
- Yea, that judge was a tough one.  Can't believe the bailiff kicked you out—
Ohh!
- Hey, we can switch off after lunch if I start drawing blanks.
- You gotta stretch out, man.  Don't strain yourself.
- I'll ease up when I start feeling the tension.  I'm not back at full strength yet, but the game is out there.  They say it's like a sea, but it's more like a river.  
- It's either lay or get laid.
- No doubt.  No hesitation—let's do this.


I can't believe I'm out.  Sorry I ruined Christmas.  Thank You for my life.


 

He's here.



No, over there ~~~~>

running to a house show...


let's hope he doesn't trip...


he's coming...


earl thosen't know anything


...whereby his wife shows him, thus becoming Earl of the Tupperwear

I can't believe that bloke don't let me pass.  We drive the same  fuckin' caaaar!  Brothers my ass!   Truck.  It's a truck.  I drive a truck.  I'm driving a truck.  That's my profession.  My profession is professin' what I'm currently take careofing.  (i hate the word, "-canine")
Now I'm going home—I'm going home now, but wait— there's traffic.  I can probably fly over these traffic, these trucks and cars but I wodda wadda people to know—some can never know, not those, missing an arm or

(i hate the word, "-canine")

Listen, you know what happened, don't you?  He had his heart broken.  Yea, by one of our us.  He saw one of our own—albeit an unscrupulous one—took him home for dinner; his wife made them pot roast and french fries, then the man fucked his wife.  
took him home for dinner, his wife made them pot roast and french fries, then he fucked his wife.  And I would that too, I would—I'd fuck his wife.  I'd give it to her.  But only if she let me, and he didn't know.  Listen, I would hold that over him, but only if he let me.  He—Earl, he's Earl now—he sent him home with a tupperwear of gravy.  Then afterward, when she blurted it out to him, he would remember the feeling in his heart when he sent his brother off with the food from his gut.  He would become Earl.  He would everytime become Earl.  And every time he, Earl, thought of the tupperwear, his wife's—he would Earl of the tupperwear it made him think, of what his wife would think, him as a man who didn't know anything.  And it would stink!  He would stink.  Oh it was a smellysmell!  He was a stinkafink.  And then he knew—Oh! he knew.  Well of course he's new—she showed him, didn't she?  Weren't you listening?  I'm telling you something!  I'll kill you!  I'm killing you right now with my tone.  She told him in their home, where she had those sex, with his new found friend.  In the woods, is where their home now in ruins there she lay.  

And he didn't let me pass.  He's gone; he's glum.  He's more gone than gum.  He's a lot of glum.  He knows it'll be with a rope off the second story.  His home, now in ruins, has a second story, "Now."  Oh, wait, he's just eating a burrito.  Look at the wrapper, just look.  Generic aluminum foil.  It's a good burriton.  It is from an authentic Shaq.  None of that Taco Bell rat meat for frat boys off their Coors, hispanics back from the game.  One black, one asian.  It is twice the size of—two?  No, multiple tacos.  It is a giant taco hugging itself.  It loves itself, and I, love it, and the driver...I do I do—well, sometimes I forget or lose it, my lighter all the time...my pen—okay okay and the driver too.  

His wife...his wife did things that you or I would and wouldn't do, but can only imagine.  Don't judge her—you don't even know her.  Judge the weather, don't eat it.  That's just something wild tobacco leaves say.  Eat your food, your children's food—someone else's children's food when the parents aren't looking.  Some one else's children's parents have feelings, too
when they disappoint their parents.  The apostrophe is a tear drop of broken letters.

He wasn't paying attention.  His wife and I felt slighted.  She got gifted, I got harshed, and my ego took over.  If I hate the driver, I can't talk sincerely with my tag team partner.  He won't listen if I can't feel it or feel too much.  And I'll be acting on my own—I'll be playacting.  I must crash into the driver!

There he may 
or may not
let me take a bite 

While we are waiting for the proper authorities to come

...cause I'm so fuckin' experimental!

sea shells

- I'll just take the next exit.
- Okay.
- We'll hop back on.  I don't want to take the streets...
- Check it out...
- Bentley?
- No...it's either a Phantom or a Ghost.  That thing costs as much as a house.
- In some states...
- I'm going to ask you a weird question.
- What is it?
- You ready?
- Yea, what is it?
- Okay...
- (laughs) What is it?
- Okay, how do you wipe your ass?
- You mean do I use toilet paper or the sea shells?
- (laughs) No, seriously.
- What do you mean?
- How do you wipe your ass?
I don't use my hand.
- Come on.  
- Why?  Do you go in the bathtub like Andre?
- Just tell me.
- Why?  How do you wipe yours?
- Come on, I asked you first.
- Why do you want to know?
- I asked for a reason.  Come on.
Like a normal person.  Why are you asking?
- What's the normal way?
- Do you not know?
- I always thought I did, but now I'm not so sure.
- What do you mean?
- I'm not really sure—Okay, what's your technique?
- What—
- Like with toilet paper.
- Oh, yea.
- You fold it before you go in?
- I usually crumple it up to utilize the ridges. 
- Okay.
- Better grip, wider area—forget about it.
- Yea.
- Why?  What do you do?
- No, that makes sense.
- What do you do?
- No, I do that too I think.
- Yea...it's more efficient that way.
- I cup my balls and junk with one hand and go in through the front...
- Okay...
- I don't stand up...
- Oh...
- Yea...
- Like a woman?
- I got tired of wasting so much effort all those years.  It's so time consuming.
- I see...
- There's the exit.
- Yea, I see it.
- Some comprehensive trial and error, I feel...
- You on probation?
- Yea, why?
- I wouldn't break any laws if I were you.

...but, I saw you laughing with them


- You got one for me?
- Ah shit...sorry.  I just ran out.
- Oh, okay.
- Yea...shit.
- It's okay.  
- I gave one to that group, the rest...to him, I guess...
- Thanks anyway.
- You know him, though...right?
- What?
- I saw you...you know, you were over there...with him.
- Yea, I know him.
- I thought he would share.  
- He already stuffed it in his cart.
- I thought he could—I told him to share it...I think.  I saw his dog.
- It's cool.
- I told him to share it though.
- Well, at least you told him.
- What?
- Nothing.  It's cool.
- I thought he would share with that side...
- You the Operations Director?
- ...of the trash can...and the straggler, she could get in on that.
- All right, man.
- I didn't want her to think I was...cause I went around a couple—Well, that's a big group.  I told them to pass out the cups and napkins.
- Oh, so you are the Operations Director.
- Oh shit...he ended up getting all the cups.
- You share at the market?
- Huh?
- (man#3) Hey where's mine?
- (man#1) I already gave your group one.
- (man#3) Who? Them? I don't know those guys.
- (man#1) But I saw you laughing with them.
- (man#2) When you eat at a restaurant, you share with everyone there?
- (man#1) What?
- (man#3) They won't give me none.  
- (man#1) Sorry.
- (man#4) Let me get some money, man.
- (man#1) I can't.
- (man#5) Hey, leave the man alone.
- (man#1) I'll be back and get you some.
- (man#2) It's all right; they seen you already.  

Evan and Wooter go to Macys

- (Wooter) What are we doing here?  You getting your mom a present?
- (Evanlaughs)  She comes here a lot.  She's actually here right now...somewhere around here.  She can never find anything she likes.
- (Wooter) So why she come here all the time?
- (Evan) Were you listening to anything?  I said she comes here a lot.
- (Wooter) Okay, okay...damn, man.
- (Evan) When she's not busy.  It's the only place she goes, with my aunt and grandma.  It's her social life without my old man.  She wanted to apply for a job here.  But when she broached the idea, he turned it down.  
- (Wooter) So why we here?
- (Evan) Gotta freshen up my cologne.  There's my Spicebomb. (aside) No thanks; I'm cool.
- (Wooter) Oow, Number Six. (aside) I'm good.
- (Evan) Wanna sniff around the perfume section?   Lots of good beaver.
- (Wooter) Yea?
- (Evan) This time a season?
- (Wooter) Fahgettaboudit?
- (Evan) Ah, fahgettaboudit!
- (Wooter) Sounds good.
- (Evan) We'll say I'm thinking of something for my mom.
- (Wooter) Okay...maybe I'll say I'm getting something for mine, too.  Or no, my wife!  I might come across a specific type.
- (Evan) It's your fantasy.  Just don't get trapped and bust out your wad.  You can't buy anything for $37.
- (Wooter). Damn...I'll open up an account!  I can return it the next day.
- (Evan) You gonna ask her about the refund policy?
- (Wooter) Yea, that ain't sexed up.
- (Evan) Besides, what if she's here when you do? 
- (Wooter) Man, this shit's complex. 
- (Evan)  Follow my lead.
- (Wooter) Cool.
- (Evan) Hit me with the nasal.  Hit you one, too.
- (Wooter, laughs) My nose has been falling apart.
- (Evan) One time mine fell off.  Next thing I know, it was driving a Range Rover Sport.  
- (Wooter) Damn, these bitches smell divine.
- (Evan) Hey, that could be my future wife you're talking about.

...so begins, Khash Season

- See these urinals?
- Which ones?  These ones?
- No, the ones in the ladies room.
- Well, of course I sees them.  
- Ah, you were being clever.  Well, deposits form when people don't flush.
- Even with that sign up, huh?
- Yea, John put that up.
- Who's John?
- He's my friend.  He looks like Kurt Cobain.
- Why would they not flush?  Probably because everything's electronic now?
- You mean those sensors they have at the mall?
- Yea.  
- It's these old timers.  You gotta figure they get up six times a night to have it all.
- I thought it was eight times to have it all.
- Maybe, if you're detoxing.  And under that constant strain, you're bound to get rebellious.
- Yea, what's the point of flushing if you've already wet your pants?
- (laughs) They're probably used to not flushing.  Anyway, these deposits, they clog up the hole and make flushing difficult for the poor old lady.
- The urinal?
- Yes.  Flooding, overflowing—you name it.  
- I'm trying.
- But mainly, it stinks.
- It's a stinkafink!
- Oh it's a smellysmell.  Okay, listen—
- I'm ready.
- What we need is acid.
- Now you're talking!
- Hydrochloric acid.  Do you know what this is?
- Yea, it's hydra—
- It's hydrochloric acid.
- Do they use it to cook speed?
- I'm not sure...they might.  We're going to pour about three ounces of this into the water.  Enough to eat away the deposits but not enough to go into the pipes.  This stuff is dangerous, real dangerous.
- Okay.
- It rusts metal, it eats steel; you can't touch it or inhale it.  It'll do wonders to your skin, lungs, and stomach.  
- Is it what makes you want to jerk off?
- Shut up.  See that steam coming out of the water? 
- Yea.
- Put your ear close to the water and you can hear it fizzing.
- Okay.
- Now put your hand underneath.  Feel that porcelain warming.
- What's that thick buttery coating?
- That, my friend, is piss.  These old timers go all over the place with their hoses.
- Got it.  
- Now, what do you remember about Chemistry class?
- I remember Brooke Sanders' thighs.
- It's good you remember the important parts.  We have to neutralize the acid with a base.
- Look, it's turning into a root beer float!
- It's like baking soda, the base—
- What if we underline the sign—
- Very basic.  It tastes like salt.
- I'm going to get a red permanent marker.
- Okay, you could do that—Hey!  
- Huh?
- Get me one of those stirring straws out by the coffee pot—I dropped a dime in the hole.  

woo!

- Oh shit, it's that old man with the really big dick.
- What?  I have a big dick.
- Oh, I have a big dick too.  
- That one?  He looks like a lizard. 
- Guess this'll be my lane.  I can cope with his speed.  There's one down there you can share with the old lady.
- Seems like the only option.  Maybe the killer klown from outer space will get tired and then I can get some real exercise.  
- All right.  See you in a bit.
- Wait.  I know your guy.  I've seen him walking into the gym.
- Yea, he's the one that always sounds like Ric Flair in the showers.
- Maybe he has Tourette's.  He always struck me as kind of meek.
- That's cause he didn't strike you with his really big dick.
- Oh, I have a big dick.
- Yea I have a big dick too.
- No, I meant his walk—there's something soft and outstandish in how he carries himself. 
- Clothed.
- I thought he might be a serial killer...or moonlighting satanic.
- No man, he's got nothing to be angry about.
- Not in the showers.
- I got angry at him the other day.  Uncomely bastard almost roundhoused me when he swung around.  I said, Watch it!
- Woo!
- Him and his really big dick.
- Oh I have a really big dick.
- Yea I have a big dick too.
- Man, when I pass under a bridge on the interstate, there's a sign that says, "His Dick Okay."

D.P. & Bruiser

- (Announcer) ...Coming down the ring, at a combined weight of 528lbs, the Tag Team Champions, D.P. & Bruiser.
- (fans) Fuckin' D.P. & Bruiser!
- (fans) You suck it, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser) No I don't suck!  You suck it!
- (female fan) Not nearly as much as you, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser) Well aren't you a picture—were you always born this way?
- (Fan#1, with his Girlfriend) Hey, Bruiser, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser, to Fan#1) ...That fat puke down the row wants to have sex with your girl.
- (Fan#1) Good.  He can.  You can't—you suck, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser) No, I'm not the one who sucks, I'm not the one.
- (Fan#1) Lord ArchBishop's going to stomp on your face!
- (Fan#1's Girl) On his bottom!
- (Fan#1) Yea, on your bottom, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser) You brought your girl to see this bottom?
- (Fan#1) That is a good bottom.
- (aside, His Girl) Hey, you're really good at this.  You having fun?
- (aside, Fan#1) Oh, thanks for bringing me out here, babe.  Yea, you gotta dish it out with them. These guys do everything to entertain us, you have to make it lively for them cause they're out here every night.
- (Fan#2). Hey, you're the best, Boozer!
- (Bruiser) It's Bruiser, you twerp.
- (Fan#2) That's not what I saw on TMZ! There's a car backstage you can use to throw up.
- (aside, Fan#1's Girl) This is so fun!  I'm glad I came out here with you, babe.
- (aside, Fan#1) Yea, Bruiser's my favorite—(to Bruiser) Hey, I fucked your mother, Bruiser!
- (Bruiser) Yea, you fuck dead mothers?
- (Fan#1's Girl) I dug her up, Bruiser, you terd, so my boy could fuck her!
- (Fan#1) I love you, babe—You're getting the hang of it!
- (His Girl) This is wonderful!  Okay, what should I say to him?
- (Fan#1) I dunno but make it quick.  Clothesline from Hell is about to come out—I can't wait to see his outfit.
- (His Girl) Should I say I like his dad?
- (Fan#1) Yea, say you love his dad!  He'll hate it.
- (His Girl) Is he going to love it and act like he hates it—
- (Fan#1) Oh, here he comes!