Not too shabby, fellas. Hard for a female not to be attracted to those scantilly clad Halloween-costumed broads… they’re only human ahyuck ahyuck…

I’ve got a quickish Halloween story. Takes place back around like… shit, coulda been anywhere from 1998-2002. 

I did nothing Halloween night. I was living at my dad’s in the country. Sleeping. Suddenly, my old school corded landline phone rang. It was my older brother, and it was about 2 am. So it was November 1st, technically. The day the spirits return to their realm.

My brother was with (let’s call him) Mouse, and they were stranded on this two lane highway in between the country and city. Their car had run out of gas. I grudgingly accepted to aid. I woke up my pops, told him the deal, withstood the Lord’s name being taken in vain several times, grabbed his keys, found one of the red tanks of gas (I can’t remember if it had gas or if I filled it a bit at the station… it’s been years), and drove down to find them. It was perhaps six miles away.

The two were clad in ICP paint, naturally. It’s funny because Mouse wasn’t even the biggest Juggalo but he had most of his paint left visible. He offered me a swig of some whiskey or something out of this big jug. A jug that I’m sure the whiskey wasn’t in originally. I took a single chug then filled up their tank. They tried the keys, and it started right up. They were nowhere near tired (were we ever back then?), and filled me in on what happened.

This was pre-cellphone-at-our-hips era, so they needed to find a way to call me. The closest thing was what I found out later to be a rendering plant across the surprisingly busy highway. They had tried to find someone there, but had stumbled upon what they claimed was a mutilated cow hanging from a chain. So they got freaked and ran up the road a quarter mile to the trailer park, and found a phone there. In clown paint at 2 am…

… Yes, I shit you not, the cop slammed into the back of my dad’s car with his own. I cannot stress this enough.

He was out and beside my window in a bolt. It was this light skinned black fellow, I recognized him as the youngest of three family cops. Let’s call him Phil Lamarr, because that’s who the bitch looks like.

Officer Phil bitches, “You hit my car!!”

I was taken aback. “What?” I asked him.

He said it again. We argued as gently as possible until he started searching the vehicle. He pulled out his walkie talkie.

“Yeah he’s got a blade on him… (one half of a set of Sai’s that we meant to pawn weeks before)… a bottle of hooch (Mouse left it in my car, shit)… some CD’s. Did you steal those CD’s? (they were CD-R’s, like right around when they first came out, a 50 pack or so).”

I told him I had paid for them. He looked annoyed. Time went on. Finally, as the sun began to rise, and licenses were checked, etc, Officer Phil says I’m free to go. But they had gotten my “buddies” right before they made it to my dad’s. My brother was fine, not drunk enough to fail a breathalyzer, but Mouse was taken in on some warrant or another. Back then he always had some case pending. He later tells me while in the holding cell, clad in ICP paint, drunk, he kept getting in black dudes’ faces and yelling “WICKED CLOWNS BITCH!!”. They were amused at the “crazy white boy” by the sound. He was released the next day.

Before I drove home to my brother, who was excited about our adventure and all amped up, despite Mouse being nabbed, Officer Phil had to stick his dick in a little deeper…

“You’re free to go,” he said. “But you did hit my car, right?”

I was appalled. Hell no, man! Is this a joke?

He pulled closer. I forgot to mention that he had mouthfucked me with a breathalyzer before this. He wanted the money shot.

“You did hit my car…right?”

I sighed. Pride was swallowed. I said that I did indeed hit his car. He didn’t smash into mine, I smashed into his.

He mentally shot his load then left. Truth is that he is still a prick to this day, currently re-running for sheriff. People I meet spin me stories much harsher than this one about his corrupt ways. The car wasn’t too damaged, thankfully. But he got what he wanted. That’s what happens when you’re the youngest of three cop brothers in a small town, trying to prove yourself. It doesn’t help matters when you look like the guy who gets his head blown off by Vincent Vega, either.

That’s all, folks

GanjaGoblin said
Poor cow. Crazy story ODM.

It really mooved me…

Sorry lol