The day starts with a devilish cry next to me. Austin Smith belting "NARB Slayer!", and prancing around with his erect penis swinging in his boxers. For those who are not aware a NARB is a "No Apparent Reason Boner." The conversation quickly escalates into a sharing circle about all of our penis experiences, and dissipates quickly into an onslaught of xbox 360 and cursing. Once the day unfolds everyone quickly realizes much has to be accomplished besides killing each other in a haunting, realistic military simulator. We stow our bags and leave with Trey and Flint. Trey and Flint seem to be an anomaly among hardcore scenesters. They are kind, straight edge kids who never even once judged us based on our habits, rants, and general tendency to be rude and verbose.
We eat Subway. I had an Italian BMT, and the Oklahoma resident who constructed my meal had a patch of chest hair that resembled brambles. This hypnotizing site drew my gaze from eating to disturbing love rug scenarios that involve the creepster with the foot long bread. Once traversing my imagination comes to an end I am quickly launched into a conversation unfolding about our group of friends.
The women operating the money dispensing machine asks, "Are you all together?" Unfortunately for her in a moment she would realize who she has encountered and the wrath of our horrible minds. All of us erupt into sexual innuendos like she was a symphony conductor who just directed us into a chorus of horrifying homo-erotic imagery.
We are together.
In fact, we are a traveling homosexual circus that performs orgies.
We are a giant gay couple, do you like that?
She awkwardly responds, "Do you want lettuce on that?" and we quickly move on to eating.
Soon after we discover that Trey keeps a picture of Mr. Flint Beard on his dash. This picture was one of those ridiculous graduation pictures with Flint in a Johnny Cash pose in the most ridiculous attire ever. We all laugh, swap porn, dance like Michael Jackson and then finish our errands.
After attending Home Depot, where we quickly discover the overabundance of stock stacked in the warehouse has no meaning, because they actually carry nothing and offer no meaningful advice, we head to the van to prepare to drive to Missouri. We discover the Xbox 360 will not work in the van, so our favorite entertainment device has been quickly degraded and mutated into a cinder block that must stay attached to us like a 40 pound tumor. After this illuminated discovery followed by cursing and fuck words, we launch ourselves into Kansas.
Unbeknownst to us we would project our goddamn van into pure hell which the weather.com website would predict "rain, hail, and tornadoes." They coined that day Tornado Outbreak which there were no Tornadoes really at all. This seems to be an ingenious PR move to draw me into continually checking their weather forecast on my iPhone. While we bear upload speeds of a 28K modem, we progress through the storm.
Soon after we encounter clouds that resemble gray atmospheric walls. The walls of this storm were so menacing, powerful and strong that it almost seemed appropriate to say, "Mr. Gorbachev tear down that wall." If only some diplomacy and a few sledge hammers could dissipate this storm. Quickly after looking out the starboard side of the Party Barge, Tyler screams, "Holy God I can see one forming." All of our eyes quickly shift and a funnel of pure wind begins to form. Only the strongest energy can be poured into this funnel, which powers the natural machine of super cells.
We all become somber, anxious, and disturbed. We drive as fast as we can with the gray devil at our backs.
Fuck tornado alley. The only dark alley in the nation where the slums play no pivotal role in your fear. No gang members, hookers, or drugs to plague you. Just the pure energy of nature. In the words of Tyler, "you can run from a crack head, but it is a lot damn harder to run from a tornado."
Goodbye Kansas. The scenario sends me into daydream landscapes where we abscond from the danger and Dorothy and her red-sparkley stupid flats get fucked on this day. Goodbye Kansas, hello Misery.
Now I have to piss like a racehorse who has been drinking liquor all day out of a trough. I casually assumed we would die so I thought it only appropriate to hold it in so the person who found me could experience my entrails releasing as they tried to identify me. I hoped maybe it would be my last laugh if anything.
