Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
Blogs > backpocket13 > THE SINNERS CLUB |
“An Idiot Gone Completely Off the Rails.”
“An Idiot Gone Completely Off the Rails.” -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- WELCOME TO THE SINNERS CLUB -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- “Jenny drinks! Everything in the kitchen sink ‘till she’s all messed up and she can barely think.” ~ The Interrupters ~ “Jenny Drinks” ..........Well, Greetings and Salutations!........Good Saturday Evening Cats and Kittens,........It’s Good to see So Many familiar faces,........Please, pull up a Chair and make yourselves Comfortable,.........There’s an Ounce of “King Louie” over there on the coffee table next to the bong,.........Please, feel free to help yourself!........This one may be a Long One, it’s been Awhile since I’ve posted Anything of length,........Mainly because the “Missing Word” glitch was driving me Absolutely Bat Shit Crazy!........ ..........I had finished smoking a big J about five minutes before the telephone began to ring, and I was fading fast. Bleary eyed I look over at the phone resting on the nightstand for a long moment before finally picking it up. “Yeah.” “Yo”. The Ace replies. “What’s up Kiddo, it’s eleven O'clock?” “Yo Man.” The says. “Braveheart” got arrested again.” “Good for Him.” I tell Ace. “What for this time?” I can’t help but ask. “D.W.I.” Ace informs me. “Shit.” “Fuckin’ Braveheart!” Ace adds. “He’d fuck up a wet dream!” “Shit.” “Anyway, he needs you to go pick his ass up at the station and drive him home.” Ace says. “Fuck That!” I exclaim. “I’m about to pass out, I’m not going anywhere.” “Listen.” The responds in a conspiratorial tone. “I took Four pills of Extasy about twenty minutes ago, and I can feel myself slipping free from reality, let alone the constraints of polite society.” “Shit!” Is all that I can say. “Where?” “Berkeley, where else?” “Shit” “Yeah” Ace answers in a wavering voice. “What? Wait! Who the Fuck is This?” He cries. “Who told You to call Me?” “You called Me asshole!” I shout. “I couldn’t call Anybody on This phone.” The tells . “It’s made of Black Licorice!” “Okay Ace.” I tell him. “Best go take a Good Long look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, and make sure that none of it rubbed off on your face.” “Ahhhhhhh! I never even Thought of That!” He yells. “Gotta Go!” With that the line goes dead. ..........A little less than Ten miles and a little more than forty five minutes later I stride purposefully into the empty lobby of the Berkley Township Police Department. Other than Myself the place is empty, there’s a bulletin board with various flyers tacked to it haphazardly. The only other ornamentation in the lobby are a pair of flags, one in each corner of the far side of the room. One is the Stars and Bars and the other is blue with what I can only guess must be the Township Seal in it’s center. Between them both is a mesh reinforced sliding glass window. In the window sits the Desk Sergeant, his uniform is Impeccable. He looks to be in his fifties, with a graying crew cut and short bushy salt and pepper mustache. He sits, elbows leaning on the counter, looking intently straight down at a newspaper opened to the Sports Section on the countertop between the two of us as I walk up to the window. I stand there for a long couple of moments before clearing my throat. Without bothering to look up from his newspaper at me he says flatly. “I sure hope that you’re here to Relieve us of Mr. Wallace’s company.” “Yes Sir, I am.” I informed him. “I’m here for Mr. Willard Wallace.” With a sigh the Desk Sergeant deliberately licks the ball of his thumb before turning the page of his newspaper. He reads for a few minutes more before looking up at me indifferently with a look a world weary look in his eyes that said, “Partner, I’ve been working this beat since Christ was a , in that Time, I’ve seen Everything from a Diddle Eyed Joe to a Damned If I Know.” Slowly without looking down he produces a clipboard from somewhere beneath the countertop. “Sign here.” He says pointing with a stubby nicotine stained finger to a line with an X next to it all the way at the bottom of the form. “And Here.” He continues flipping to a second form and pointing to the bottom of that one as well. “Alright.” I say a bit to loudly. “That was Easy enough.” I finish with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a bit, to no avail as I notice that his attention is once again draw down to last nights baseball scores. “I’ll have an Officer bring him out.” “Thank You Sir.” I say, standing there in an awkward silence for a couple more moments. “You can go wait over there Cheech.” He says to me offhandedly with a nod of his head. Silently I comply. Twenty long minutes pass as I stand staring at the bulletin board pretending a little too hard to be absorbed in reading the public notices, wanted posters, attorneys business cards, and bail bondsman flyer. Finally a door on the other side of the room opens and out stumbles Willy Wallace AKA “Braveheart” all 5’4” of him. There’s a big Officer on either side of Willy. He pinballs off of one Officer and into the other and then back as they walk him across the lobby to . “Alright, Alright Already!” Willy slurs loudly. “Lemme ‘lone ya Fascist Motherfuckers!” I wince. I’m the only on who does. “You want the Taser Again tough guy?” One of the big boys asks Willy, who promptly shuts his mouth, his Heart not all that Brave now. “Braveheart!” I yell, arms wide. Willy looks up, a smile forming as his eyes begin to focus. “Braveheart!” One of the Officers laughs. “That’s a Good One!” Chuckles the other Officer. “Don’t forget your Noble Steed!” Turning to me he asks hoarsely, “Can we go?” “Yeah, Let’s.” I agree, looking over at the Desk Sergeant, who’s now looking curiously over at the two of us as if we were standing there plotting his murder. “I need to my ride back.” Braveheart slurs. “You can’t Drive!” I try to reason with him. “Besides, it’s probably parked and locked up safe in some impound yard that won’t open ‘till tomorrow morning anyway.” “No, those Bastards have it Here! Willy says adamantly, stumbling over to where the Desk Sergeant sits. Willy slaps his hand down hard on the newspaper laying on the countertop between the two of them. “Where’s my Fucking Ride?” He barks at the Desk Sergeant who continues reading unperturbed. “Hey!” Willy says louder this time. “Where the Fuck is My scooter Barney Miller?” Continuing. “They taking turns riding it around the back lot?” “Wait!” I ask aloud. “Scooter?” “Yeah, An Electric Scooter.” The Desk Sergeant confirms while reading his paper. “My Scooter!” Braveheart yells vehemently, spitting all over the meshed glass of the partition. “Bring it Around!” “You got a D.W.I. on your Electric Scooter?!?!” “He got a D.W.I. while driving up Main Street drunk as a lord, with a pack strapped to the back, and a bottle of wine between his legs.” The Desk Sergeant states producing a business from the void the countertop. He slides it towards Billy who’s gripping the countertop in an attempt to not fall over. Braveheart picks it up, holding it at several different distances before being able to read it. “You had it Towed!” “Yes indeed.” “To an Impound Yard?” Willy shrieks. “Yes indeed.” “On a Friday night no less!” “Yes indeed.” “Wait a Second.” I interject. “You towed an Electric Scooter that you can literally fold up and carry?” “Yes Indeed.” The Desk Sergeant replies, studying the Racing Form now. “ point Two pounds actually.” He confirms. “We had to have a Flatbed come to handle it.” “A Flatbed!?!?” “Yes Indeed.” “But it fits in the trunk of Any car!” I reason. “As I said, you can Physically pick it Up!” “It’s a Motorized Vehicle Sir.” “Sweet Lucifer’s Halo!” I exclaim. “It’s a fucking Toy!” “There’s a Motor on it Sir.” The Sergeant responds flatly. “Therefore it’s a Motor Vehicle.” “You Wife’s Vibrator has a Motor on it too!” Braveheart suddenly screams from behind . “You wouldn’t Strap It on a fuckin’ Flatbed and Parade it through Town for Everyone to See though Would You?!?!” The Desk Sergeants neck begins to turn crimson around his tight collar and a vein in his forehead begins to beat. “I’m going to be done reading yesterday’s college basketball scores in about ninety seconds.” He continues. “When I’m done, I’m going to up.” He finishes. “When I Do, the Two of You had both better Be Gone.” As Willard “Braveheart” Wallace opened his Big Dumb Pie Hole to Retort, I grab him firmly by the Scruff of his Neck. With a firm squeeze and an uppercut to his right kidney and his mouth snaps shut and I managed to maneuver him out the glass station door. I turn and back, the Desk Sergeant is still sitting there looking down his paper. His right hand goes up and waves Good Riddance Too the Both of Us. ..........And that, My Sweet Sweet Lost Angels and My Decadently Depraved Devils is how I spent last Friday Night,.......Something is Always Popping around Here,........Let’s hope that Tonight, being Friday and All, lets Hope for a relatively Quite One,.........Until the Next Time,........My Faithful Flock,.........You know where I’ll be, Right Here, where You left Me,.......... Sinfully Yours, backpocket President; The Sinners Club -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- I’M ONLY HELL THAT MY MOMMA EVER RAISED -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|- |
||||
|
Seriously, you need to get Willy some help. But I had to laugh- the Desk Sargent was right about it being motorized but an F))*ing flatbed WFT (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
| |||
|
interesting Friday.... cheers! 🍻🍸🍸🍸🍾🍷 ... is there another way to look at it Going Too Fucking Far NEW Blog Features RevealeD O O A Foolproof Method Posted Over on that NEW site O O
| |||
|
What an interesting read SEXY, I still can't get over them having a flat bed to tow the scooter in seriously WTF!!! I hope you get some rest, and I hope your friend never gets arrested again. have a great weekend..
| |||
|
Oh so funny. Flatbed for a scooter. lol. And he has to pay the towing charge. 😂
| |||
|
the wicked one... lol...i found his wifey's big vibe on the flatbed, getting toed... the fallen angel 333
|
Become a member to create a blog