That's Not Turtle Wax!

It was the summer of 2007.  I was living in Yonkers, NY in Westchester County.  Three of my friends from Suckaville- Kenny Rogers, D Money and Ryan, were coming down to see me.  We were going to a Yankee game that night.   I had not seen these guys in awhile, so we had a lot of partying to catch up on.  Once they arrived, we drank a case of beer even before leaving for the game.  We ended up getting there late because we stopped at my buddy Farley’s house first to score some ya-yo.  We blew a few lines in the car on the way down to the Bronx, which was a mistake in hindsight.   You will find out why in a little while.  Somehow there was still a parking spot available in a lot right off the stadium, which saved us from missing even more of the game.  We set up our chairs and tailgated for like a half-hour; drinking a few more beers each and sniffing some more coke.  I was buzzing and all coked up by the time we finally went into the game in the 3rd inning.

We had bleacher seats, so we had a long walk.  Worse, the bleachers don’t allow alcoholic beverages so we could not maintain our buzzes.  You ever start partying hard and then have to abruptly stop in the middle of the day for no reason?  It sucks!  Even though we were at a Yankee game, it was still bad.  We could have been getting rubdowns from the Hawaiian Tropic Girls and I still would have wanted out.  What made this experience worse than getting water boarded in Guantanamo Bay was the fact that there is no smoking allowed in Yankee Stadium.  Imagine buzzing hard, being all coked up and NOT being able to smoke a cigarette.  It was too much for us to handle.  All of us were tweaking out from severe withdrawal.  Finally, after about an hour of this, we could not take anymore.  We walked out and went back to the car.  It was only the 6th inning.  As much as it sucked to leave in the middle of a game, we should have known better.  If we stayed we would have had to attempt to get that buzz back after the game ended four hours later, which would have been virtually impossible.  We would have been way too tired and worn out.  Our decision to cut our losses and leave the game early proved to be a good idea, as we only missed out on an hour of drinking time.

After getting back to my house, we chugged some more beers then went to a local watering hole near my house to finish watching the game.  Desperate to get that buzz back, we decide to do Irish Car Bombs, figuring that will get us to where we were.  After two of those, I’m right back to where I was before the game.  After a few games of pool and more beers someone brings up the idea of getting more coke.  This idea quickly became a necessity.  Once someone even mentions the word “cocaine” amongst a group of hard partying druggies, there is no putting that idea to rest.  The more we talked about it the more I wanted it.  If we were to go and get some, I had to go right then, before I was too shit-faced to drive.  I called up my buddy to place the order and then got Kenny Rogers to come with me.  We left D Money and Ryan at the bar.

We get to my buddy Farley’s house and buy more shit.  We do a few lines with him, then we head back on our way.  Ryan is calling us constantly- like every 10 minutes, wondering where we are; the crack head! This pisses me off a lot, especially considering he is not even chipping in for the shit.  We get back to the bar like an hour later, and Ryan and D Money are just gone, completely FUBAR.  Ryan is so drunk he can’t even talk.  They are laughing and being obnoxious.  The people in the bar love them, as they are entertaining everyone in their drunken stupors.  I apologize to everyone in the bar, then gather up the troops and go back to my place.  We all get open immediately upon getting back, blowing lines the size of our hands to get going after a long layoff.  We all grab beers then decide to tailgate outside in my driveway.  

We set up the 4 lawn chairs, then get the little BBQ grill going.  We cook up the burgers and sit there, getting shit-faced, for the next 5 hours.  Every once in awhile we would light up a bowl to mix it up a bit.  We all take turns going into my apartment so we can do more blow.

It’s the wee hours of the morning and we are spent.  We have been drinking all day, and all of us are coming down hard off the beer, the weed and the coke.  We needed some excitement to keep from passing out.  There was a brand new, pimped out Rolls-Royce with a wheel lock on it parked directly across from my driveway.  I bet the others that the lock on the wheel is really just a shell, placed there to look like an actual anti-theft device, even though it is actually made out of plastic.  I get up out of my chair and walk over to the car to check it out.  I pull on the wheel lock only to find out it is the real deal.  Pissed off that I lost the bet, I get angry at the owner of the Rolls.  How dare he put an anti-theft device on his $100,000 car!  Piss drunk and now riled up, I get the other guys angry as well.  

For some reason, we treat this car like it fucked our sister.  We commence to play a game of “whatever you can do, I can do better”.  It is pitch dark outside and no one is outside…the perfect time for us to cause some juvenile havoc.  I don’t exactly know what started this train of events, but I do know that we started blaming that car for all the problems in our life, and everything wrong with the world.  Someone suggested we should do something to it, so we did. 

Kenny Rogers is the first one up.  He walks over to the car, unzips his pants, and pisses all over the side of it.  He actually walks up and down the sidewalk next to the car, making sure he sprays it down from headlight to taillight.  He walks back over laughing.  We all get a kick out of it.  D Money goes next- he has beef of his own with this car.  He walks over to it, opens the gas tank of the car, and empties his bladder inside of it.  Now, he is probably pissing all water by now, but still, that’s a hell of a lot of damage done.  Everyone is loving this.  They all agree that D Money won this demented contest…until I punch my entry.

Rich prick had it comin'

I am wasted, like the rest of us.  Unlike the others, though, I don’t have that little voice in my head that tells me not to do something.  If I get a good idea in my head, I am doing it, nothing will stop me.  Anyway, I walk around the car, admiring our handy work.  I stop when I am facing the car head on, starting at the grill.   I look at the others and smile.  I proceed to pull my pants down, squat down and let go the brownest, nastiest pile of fecal matter you have ever seen all over the grill.  It looks like frozen yogurt coming out.  I look over at the guys and their jaws are dropped.  A large piece of shit actually falls off the hood.  Wanting my victory to be complete, I bend down and picked it back up.  I wind up, and launch the shit at the car, imbedding it into the grill.  I look over at the others and they are on the ground, laughing.  I walk over to them, simply say “I win”, then grab a beer and sit back down.  The rest of the night I bask in my glory of being the sickest, most demented fuck on the planet.  Good thing the owner of that Rolls-Royce never found out what we did.  I would still be in jail and would have been unable to live some of the other adventures on this list.