The foul-mouthed tale of four foul-mouthed friends. You would not want any of these guys working for you - trust me.
“Another round for the boys!”
Our waitress scowls at us from across the room but she’ll still convey our order to the bar; she wants a decent tip, after all. I flash her a wink that promises a whole lot more than a few extra dollars if she plays her cards right and she feigns disgust. I grin and adjust my crotch - I love it when they play hard to get.
“Where in the fuck is Deke?” JJ demands as his cigarette, clinging to his bottom lip through some miracle of physics, bobs along with each syllable. “He banging that school bus driver bitch again?”
When he was a child JJ stood for Jason Jacobs but now that he’s in his twenties and hanging out with us it can be short for many things: Just Joking being the tamest, Jizz Juggler being his least favorite, and Jaded Jerk being the most accurate.
JJ works over at Saint Jerome’s, a care facility for the elderly. He says it’s the best place to score free smokes in town - all you have to do is convince the really old geezers that they’ve already had their afternoon cancer stick and always wear pants with deep pockets. It doesn’t hurt that he also encourages all the Alzheimer patients to pick up the habit.
“He called me an hour ago, said he’ll be running late,” I say between boisterous belches. To my right Trevor wrinkles his nose and waves at the air with a hand forested with thick black hairs. “Hey, fuck you Stinky. Why don’t you go destroy another toilet with one of your elephant shits, huh? Don’t you fucking pretend that you’ve still got a sense of smell, not at this table.”
You remember that Jim Carey movie, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective? There’s that one scene where he comes out of the bathroom, dripping wet and clothes half-torn off his body, and announces, “Do not go in there! Wooo!” Well our Stinky considers that a defining moment in cinematic history.
“Yeah, go ahead and pretend your burps smell like roses,” Stinky says, “and the rest of us will go on knowing you’ve been licking grandma’s asshole again.”
I stare at my bottle, considering whether I want to waste the remaining contents by smashing it over Stinky’s head; realizing I don’t support that kind of alcohol abuse, I take a long swig before turning and letting one rip right in his fat face. I smirk as I watch his eyes start to roll back in his head before he shakes his head violently, his jowls cascading like waves in the Lard Ocean.
“Speaking of your wanton washroom wrecking,” JJ says, “when Deke gets here you should tell them about your latest conquest.”
“Screw waiting for Verbs, I’ll tell the story twice!”
Verbs is our nickname for Deke - it’s short for Verbal Diarrhea. He likes it when we call him Verbs; he’s not so fond of us calling him VD, especially when we do it from across a crowded room. He’s really begging for us to do that tonight though, showing up late like this.
I put down my beer and nod for him to go ahead. I’ve learned it’s best to not be drinking or eating when Stinky tells his stories. Sometimes I think it would be best not to be in the same room.
“Alright - so before we opened this morning I nuked a cheese pizza in the microwave while I was chugging a half-litre of chocolate milk.” Stinky is lactose intolerant, by the way. “I swear to Buddha I barely got to the bathroom in time; holy shit there was some Olympic sized butt clenching going on. Nobody was around so I used the women’s bathroom and clogged that motherfucker up. That stall was a total write-off my friends.”
“This is standard fare so far man,” I say. “We’ve heard this story a thousand times before.” Seriously. One. Thousand.
“Well if you shut your shit-stained mouth and let me finish I’ll get to the good part,” he says with a hurt look on his face. “So I pull up a chair across from the washroom and wait for the store to open. Not ten minutes, I swear to shit, not ten minutes later this little girl comes running up. Couldn’t have been more than five years old.” He’s shaking with laughter, like a walrus on a washing machine. “She opens the door, disappears inside, right? She comes out like five seconds later and, I swear to balls, she’s crying. Just absolutely balling her goddamned eyes out!” Tears are streaming down his face, watery travellers on the greasy road to Nowhere Good.
Oh, I forgot to mention - Stinky is a stock boy at Toys R Us.
And who am I, you might be wondering? Where do I fit into this filthy puzzle of ours?
Well stick around for a while and you’ll find out.
If you play your cards right.