Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident


There a couple of things I feel it is imperative that I mention before our story begins.

  1. My dear friend The Arminian was dating this girl named Ivy Savage for a while. The relationship was short and ended in a total full blown Shit Show.
  2. Ivy Savage is not her legal birth name, nor has she changed it legally either. Point being I didn’t change her real name to Ivy Savage.
  3. This story took place many moons ago when I dealt drugs. At the time of this story I and my partners in crime had a batch of LSD called Black Magic. BM got its name for the Black Abstract Swirling Design on one side. BM was the strongest acid We ever had by far, and because of that We cut the Hits in half and sold them as regular Tabs.

Ladies & Gentalmen here for the first time ever, I give you Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident!

It was one of those long monotonous summer days the kind where you feel like you’ve been suspended in time and space. The Armenian and I decided to forego collage to loitering around town selling drugs. Our trademark drug if you will, the one we were best known for was our LSD.

We had just picked up 3 new sheets of blotter acid from our connection who was some weird androgynous motherfucker named Sam Antha  that we met along our travels. It was a friend of a friend type deal, and we met him when we where looking to score some weed. For some reason I always felt the urge to hit him which I never did, but dear god did I want to.

That day we were bumming around Ivy’s parent’s house in the Upper Middle Class Suburbs with its large houses and big green lawns. It just so happened Ivy’s little brother Tidbit was also hanging around with a few of his Preppy wannabe be Hippy friends.

Now killing time was a fucking art form where I’m from, and thats why all the kids did was drink/drugs was out of nothing more than sheer boredom. I was out on the backyard deck drinking beer and smoking pot with The Armenian when Tidbit came outside to join us. Tidbit inquired about obtaining some acid so We hooked him and his little buddies up. When Ivy found out she got pissed off but not why you may think. She wasn’t angry because We hooked Tidbit up with the acid, but rather that she would have to keep an eye on him and she had her own drugs to do.

Tidbit and his Pals went off to his room to drop the acid and listen to classic rock like the cliques the were. The Armenian and I continued to party out on the deck while Ivy darted about franticly ranting about god knows what. Ivy was doped up on a cocktail of pharmaceutical drugs for being completely batshit crazy so we tended to ignore her when she started bugging out. The Armenian finally talked Ivy off the ledge (which was no small task I assure you) and she was sitting on the couch drinking Gin out of a Tea Cup.

We were sitting around the living room having decided to abandon the deck for the A/C inside when We heard a commotion. We could make out that it was coming from upstairs so We went up to investigate what was happening. The noise got louder as We reached the 2nd floor, and We could establish the sound coming from the Bathroom. Tidbit’s friends were no where in sight to shed any light on the current state of affairs. The Armenian leaned towards the bathroom door so he could hear a bit better and reported it was Tidbit but he had no idea what the issue was. At last We figured We had only one choice and that was to open the bathroom door and see for ourselves and thats what We did.

Once We flung the bathroom door open We saw Tidbit sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. He had this look a combination of shock, awe, and trama that left him looking utterly horrified. I then asked Tidbit what in the hell was his problem was and no one was prepared for his answer.

Tidbit told us that he was tripping balls and had to talk a shit so he went to the bathroom, sat down, and got ready to handle his business. Apparently half way through the process things went slightly astray. When asked to elaborate further because unless this was an LSD inspired celebratory shit scenario he had more explaining to do. That is when Tidbit said

“I came in here to take a dump and my shit fucked me in the ass, I know what its like to be Gay.”

The Armenian and I broke into instant laughter and were shoved abruptly into the hall by an irate Ivy. Ivy managed to calm Tidbit who then retreated back into his room. I have no idea what he told his Pals about what happen if at all, but I do wonder from time to time.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

Varieties of Pain

I am writing this blog about pain not because I am feeling creative but I am in pain. All I will say about that is knee and tooth pain. Unfortunately (or fortunately for those of you who like my blogs) these, I think, are two of the worst places to have it. I meaning eating and walking are two things most people (other then Terri Schiavo) have to do every damn day.
OK so on to the good shit.

The types of pain

I’m really just going to go with three types of pain, since the three things I’m about to say would pretty much cover anything you are going through unless you want to be an asshole and try to make categories into subcategories  You know who you are you are the dumb asses who say Australia is not a continent it’s just an island or antarctica is not a continenet cuz no one lives there.

So there is emotional pain. This one is pretty boring and can usually be resolved with enough liquor and either a few quick and fast lays or 6 hours of venting while drunk as hell. You pick your poison. Are you old school Madonna (spreading it like a virgin) or are you Celine Dion (spreading it for your manager who is like 50 and you are 14)?

Physically pain is pretty boring too. I think, personally, the worst pain (other then detoxing off drugs) that someone can go through is tooth pain. I am not really taking into account childbirth because that is like expected pain. I mean duh you are gonna be in pain, that’s not why you got knocked the hell up but bloody yes you did so if you go on talking for 3 bloody weeks about it, well then yes golly jeez we don’t care anymore. Send us some pic of your retard kid on an xmas card and shut up, that’s what normal people do,

Then HOLY JESUS yes.

There is spiritual pain. I do not know a whole lot about this in the traditional sense of the word, however I have been known to do a bit of Santeria in my day (I still freakin love it when they look at me like I’m a crazy white person in their store) Ha lets just say I’ve had one really successful spell and a mirade of ones that didn’t go so good. Well I don’t believe that’s what is causing my physical pain but you never know.


Anyhoo, I have been wanting to write more. I have soooo many topics in my head to write just about anything however this pain is keeping me away from just about everything in the world. 🙂

But look yes I still smile, yes I still try to live and yes my ass needs to see the doctor, but I am really really lazy and dont like surgery. lol.By SpaceDog  

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures.                                       (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim  Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

The Tale of Two Hospitals

Where We moved in the Southern Country there is a choice if need be of 2 different near by Hospitals. On one hand there’s the local Applesburg County’s Lemon Hospital, and on the other you have Poseidon Hospital in the neighboring County of East Chuck Town.

As far as Poseidon is concerned They are excellent, great staff, kick ass nurses, and damn good doctors. I can testify to this first hand as I spent several days there last month for a little heart issue. Poseidon was as wonderful as We were told by everyone We met a true 5 star facility. Once I was released from Poseidon when I talked to someone the FIRST thing they would say (even before asking “How are You”/”How are You doing?”) was that I was Lucky (or that it was “Wonderful/Great/Good” etc.) that I ended up going to Poseidon Hospital instead of Lemon.


The Locals actually have a saying about Lemon Hospital that goes like this “Go to Lemon Hospital if You want to DIE.” (The emphasis on die)

In fact Lemon’s reputation has been so shitty for so long people will do pretty much anything in their power to avoid being taken there. The most popular way to assure that the Ambulance takes you too Poseidon is to drive yourself (or have someone drive you if your not capable) just over the boarder between Applesburg and East Chuck Town, and THEN call 911.

This method has become so preferable that a Local Gentlemen started his own “County Line Shuttle Service”. So if your sick or injured, can’t drive yourself, and don’t have anyone else who can drive you then you can call this Gentleman. He will then pick you up at your current location, and drive you over the County line where he will even call 911 on your behalf.

Now this insanely honest and unanimous view of Lemon Hospital is curiously compelling. Its gotten to the point where one of these days I’m going to drive the 50 minutes from my house to Lemon Hospital just to see this Horror Show of a Hospital. I can only imagine based on what I have been told what this Hell Hole Hospital must actually look like.

For example I imagine there is blood splattered everywhere on damn near everything, and severed body parts strewn all across the floor. There dead bodies on gurneys  lining the halls under flickering florescent lights. I imagine the Doctor’s all who barely graduated Medical School with a “D” or attended one of the finest Medical Schools in the Tropics. I imagine a skeleton staff comprised of workers who look more like corpses than living human beings working with outdated and flawed Medical Equipment. I imagine there is a Mortuary in the lobby as apposed to a Gift Store. I imagine mold on the walls of the Cafeteria with rather large Rats scurrying about amongst the Roaches. I imagine leaking pipes, rampant rust, pungent stench of sickness and death,over crowded rooms packed with the dying, moans and cries of doomed patients filling the musty, stagnant air, and filth encrusted walls, BUT I can only imagine for the time being.

Perhaps this will help explain my current morbid fascination with the Dreaded Lemon Hospital of Death or perhaps not.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

Lost in Louisiana : My 1st DFF Assignment

For my first official assignment for DFF Magazine:

“Suck The Head’s Psychobilly Showdown” July 8th 1991 Vol. 54

Suck The Head got their name from a popular tradition of sorts while eating Crawfish down in the Pan Handle region. It means that a Person literally sucks the juices, brains, small caps of meat out of the Crawfish’s Head like a fucking Swamp Dwelling Zombie.

Now Suck The Head was gaining attention due mainly in part to their Raucous Booze Fueled Live Shows, and a penchant for Bar Fights. Suck The Head was a Psychobilly Loving Trio comprised of Donovan Wyatt on Guitar and Vocals, Kaden Crew on Drums, and Drunk Mulligan on Drums. The 3 meet each other growing up in Triumph Louisiana with a population of a mere 216. None of the group’s members attended High School as they worked a myriad of jobs to help support their families meager income.

Kaden was a deck hand on a shrimping boat, Mulligan Noodled for Large/Giant Catfish (one day as a joke he was Noodling with his pecker, but unfortunately for him it was a Alligator Snapping Turtle living inside the cave in the river bank. The AST lunged at Mulligans member and managed to severe the head of his schlong. Later a Team of Asian Specialists from Germany replaced the missing head of Mulligan’s prick with the tip from one of his big toes), Donovan hunted Alligator’s along the way.

Suck The Head’s pre show warm up is a vulgar display of Alcoholism. Before each show the 3 members split a Manson Jar of 171 proof Moonshine, and 3 30 packs of PBR. The drinking however doesn’t stop once Suck The Head takes the stage. Sporting their usual on stage attire made up of a Wife Beater Shirt and Old, Worn Out, Scum/Dirt covered Overalls, and Barefoot. As the show goes on the band takes increasingly longer breaks between songs in favor of drinking more. Once the Whisky starts going down like water all bets are off.

Donovan has been arrested several times for drunkenly stage diving into the audience to fight some audience member over god knows what (usually Donovan would say the person was looking at him in some disrespectful or mocking manner) Once Kaden swung his bass guitar at a disruptive fans head, but missed accidentally striking a older woman who had had 1 to many facelifts causing her face to completely pop off. Kaden then drunkenly tried to staple the woman face back on before the police came busting in. Mulligan was notorious for getting drunk and not only picking fights with show promoters/Club Owners over pay, but he was also well known for running off stage to the nearest farm and sexually assaulting a variety of farm animals.

Suck The Head’s debut album “Backwater Bitch Slap” on the Indie Label Spastic Colon Records next month on March 17th, and will be available in limited release. If I had one criticism it would be that the band has NO presence on the Internet (which granted nowadays is utterly fucking insane) due to the fact all 3 members of Suck The Head despise computers and are known to sporadically smash fans smart phones in disgust if they see them fiddling with them at Live Shows/Appearances. All in all though Suck The Head will always be a local Louisiana Legends, yet their chances to break out beyond the boarders of Louisiana itself are slim to none.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

My Time in the Trenches of The Underground Music Scene

Just like countless writers before me I got my ego stroked and stoked in collage, then I graduated, and then found out making a living as a writer is fucking hard as hell. Following again in past writer’s footsteps I was tending bar at a beer and shot joint called Logan’s Local’s Lounge (No wonder so many writers are drunks)I was your preverbal starving artist so after rent and bills my pay check left me enough cash to sustain my diet of  Ramen Noodles and Malt Liquor.

One of the prominent  customers was a guy named Thin Dizzy who was a local show promoter, and manager of several popular local yokel area bands. Thin got his nickname for being 6’4″,sickly skinn ,and he was the World’s biggest Thin Lizzy fan ever born. It wasn’t long until we became buddies talking about music late into the night after closing. Most of those nights we conversed over a bottle of Cheap Whiskey while chain smoking Cowboy Killer Cigarettes furiously debating passionately about all things musical.

Thin it seemed knew everyone and one day I asked him to keep a look out for any writing jobs and throw them my way if he could as tending bar in mundane mind numbing work. After a few weeks Thin came in and told me he had found a job if I was interested. It was a small publication called DFF (Drink, Fuck,Fight) that specialized in underground musicians/artists. DFF was looking simply for a writer to write up brief biographies of Underground Bands to “Help educate the sheep of society of how Utterly Idiotic They really are, to remove the blinders and let people see the truths a lie unto itself.” as stated by the Chief Editor Eddie Overdose (a old school hardcore punk and idol of the underground who had managed to survive to tell about it. The job paid dick but it got me out from behind the bar, and at least my expenses (i.e. Room and Board type shit) were being covered by DFF.

By this point in my life I had already developed a morbid fascination, shock and awe for such Underground Hardcore Punk Bands such as GG Allin, The Mentors, The Murder Junkies, AntiSeen, The Toilet Rockers, The Meatmen, and Anal Cunt, but I thirsted for more. I took the job on the spot, quit my job the next day and headed over to DFF’s main (and only Head Office) located in the City’s Industrial Zone full of converted factories. Their address was 1976 Butcher’s Way Road blending into the long line of converted big brick buildings that used house such companies as The Murphy Brother’s Meat Gristle Packaging Plant to The Tex Sex Warehouse (Sex toys targeted at Texans or Fans of Texas) to The Widget Factory of a gone by era.

This was my first actual professional writing job. I stayed with DFF for almost 4 years until its untimely demise due to inbreeding. During those 4 franticly chaotic years I traveled all over America and even parts of Europe covering countless acts along the way. Some of the acts I covered were:

Ox Sucker, Dope Hate, FuckSLut, The Fuck Me Pumps, Cunt-Fart, The Manginas, The Gash, Vag The Impaler, Beef Curtains, Buttmeat Penis, Feninus, The Furious Fist Fucking 5, SRA (Surgically Reconstructed Assholes, The Shits, Too The Tits, The Bastards, ManWhore, The Hungry Hookers, Hobocide, The Clams, Harry Taco & The 1 Eyed Worm, Anal Retention, Humphole, The Crackhead Junkies, Bollocks, Von Dire, The Benders, The Young Cocksmen, The DPs, Puking Piss, Pisser, The Fucktards, The Strippers, Fuck Your Face, Rectal Invasion, The Drunkards, Stank Breath, Anal Leakage Inc, The Salty Yogurt Slingers, Force Fed Feces, Burnt Toast, The Decapitated Swine, No Narcs, The Westend Bell Ends, The Shitters, The STDs, Jesus and Hitler, The Nerts, Shit Out Of Luck, Fucked in the Head, The Cock Ring Kings, Punks in Porn, MC Satan D, The Jizz Moppers Union, Cum Guzzler, Throbbing Taint, The Rim Jobbers, Kill Jill,Finger Fucking Francis, Sucked, The Chicken Hawks, Dolphin Rape, Cell Block 7, The Assholes, The Necrophiliacs, Whore Monger, Alien Orgies, Bloody Sod Bollocks, Womb Tomb, Speed Ball, The Overdosed,The Body Bag Bitches, Sexed, The Perverted, The Genitals, Muff Diver, The Dumbass Dildos, Shit Sandwich, Commie Scum, Americanized, Vaginal Vermin, Crotch, Nuke The Nazis, Violent Vasectomy,The Left Handed Cigarettes, Anti-All, Shit Show, The Bullshitters, Boner Puppy, Man Meat Sandwich, The Schlongs, Eat Shit, The Slags, UTS (Up The Shitter), and MANY, MANY MORE.

So recently I went for a drunken stroll down memory lane and got nostalgic as fuck so what I did was I looked up a shit ton of these old reviews and interviews with some of the all stars of the Underground music scene. I have also decided to post some in the interest of personal prosperity.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober 


The Rage Within

Have you ever had a wonderful customer service experience that made you feel happy, elated or even just a bit more than satisfied? Well this blog post is not for you. If you’ve been neglected, fucked over, or treated like a criminal keep on reading.

My issues began almost 5 months ago. For some reason I wanted to check my prepaid card balance on my WetZeller card. (names have been changed to protect the guilty, cuz that’s how me do in Merica.) Well it just was not right, there was nothing there. There should have been something.

Well I call in to these lovely folks and get some guy with a thick Indian accent. Pretty standard for a lot of low rate companies or tech companies. I get a canned response and dispute the charge when I find out what it is. A purchase at a Walmart. OMG NO NO NO. Yuck. I haven’t bought anything at a Walmart since I found my soul. The sneakers I bought there once succumbed to the rain. I have been through every addiction on the planet and Walmart actually provided the low point of my life. I bought their underwear. That will forever be my low. The Wets say they will get back to me in 24-48 hours.

Fast forward 3 weeks and 4 calls later. Every call I get the same canned 24-48 hour response repeatedly.  The Indian guy turned out to be a blessing. It was Bulgarians, Jamaicans and gypsy thieves after that.  The Jamaican woman decided that when I raised my voice mid sentence, she was going to shout into the phone at me. That was tons of fun because I had to hold back. I still did want my money back so I could not bust out with much other then lamely calling her a mean person.

My frustrations continue another week. A full month later I get a response asking for IDs, police reports, a copy of my bank statement, license, proof of residence and proof that I was in my country at the time of the transaction.  Deadline:one week. Otherwise they would assume that I was completely full of shit.  Now I get ID and police report but I have never been asked for proof I was in my country. I do have a smartphone so I clearly can prove it did not leave this area, but I don’t really have proof I am where I am on a daily basis. There is no need for me to be a daily consumer of anything other then food, water and oxygen. I don’t slither to a methadone clinic everyday, clock in at a job, or go to adult day care so this could be an issue.


The ironic part of all of this is this was all over $50. You would think it would be some insane amount like $5000 or even $500 but no a mere $50. This was the time I also found out the charge was in California. I’m a fucking friend in Pennsylvania  who made a charge 7 hours before the fake one. So basically I would have had to hijack a plane from the local airport, convince the flight to head to LA, convince the police to escort me high speed to some random Walmart in the LA Suburbs so I could randomly buy $50 worth of bullshit, and then take a flight directly home so I could call the next day and cry fraud.  I wouldn’t fly around that quickly if I stole 5 million dollars and certainly not for $50.


Luckily I had been to the doctors that day. I only go every 6 weeks so I happened to luck out. Otherwise these crooks would have absolutely taken my money. Still though I had to not only provide completely detailed receipts but had to get a “permission slip” from my doctor saying I was there. Then I had to get it notarized. I still have no clue why this was necessary other then to try and make my issue cost more then $50 for me to solve so my money could be pocketed.

Then the wait happened. Again. My EuroTrash contact would string me along a little at a time. She needed a clearer license picture. She needed the monthly statement of my charges, not just the page I printed out. It seemingly went on forever. It was only 3 months in all actuality.


Then I go the great news seemingly out of the blue. Your money has been refunded. I am not sure if this happened so suddenly because I threatened to get my local government involved. It only took 3 days after I made that promise for my money to get back to me.

The money was staring at me in my account. Yet it showed up as being a rejected refund. No one knew what was going on when I called in. I waited 2 more weeks for them to tell me it was available. So I tried to use the money right away. Decline, decline, decline. Someone then suddenly knew what they were doing and said we need to cancel your card and issue you a new one.

This is the part that got me going absolutely batshit. Why wouldn’t you have cancelled the card right away when I told you 4 months ago? Were you waiting for me to put more money on my account so you could buy some suspect meat, forbidden fruit, or earbuds that make music sound like something that is used as a torture device? Waiting for me to send in my bank statement with the account number included?


So I had to wait for this card to come in the mail an additional 2 weeks. It finally came, I gambled the money away rather quickly and chopped that shit up. It was found money so there was no need to save it or buy anything worthwhile. I put it into the same category as drug money or escorting money. It should be spent as quickly as possible.

All in all, my ordeal ended up taking me 3 days short of a full 5 months to get a refund. The extra month of waiting after they refunded me was just the cherry on top.

I sort of wish the rage would continue. It was great motivation for losing weight, running and punching things. I probably should have bought a punching bag but being the reincarnated Jew that I am and current part mad Russian I decided the wall would be better. I must say the wall held up much better then my knuckles.

The rage ended. Or a brief period. Then something worse then fraud came along.

A peppy middle aged woman lacking a sex life. She was not trying to get with me so I can still breathe.  She is next in the crossfire…….


Enjoy the Silence?

Silence is cherished by many people in this world. Personally I cannot handle it one iota whatsoever. That awkward silence when you meet someone new and realize they completely suck balls. When there is nothing more to say, nothing more to do. When you try and make small talk with someone (which I hardly ever do) and they give you that dumbfounded look or just a nod of the head.

Even in non-social situations I absolutely cannot stand it. I suppose I like the song Silent Night, but truth be told, the only holy nights I am having these years involves far different holes then the original song and mainly mine getting penetrated.  I can grow a very poor beard so I’m definitely not Jesusy in the least unless you prescribe to the theory he was a homo.

I more or less go with the Trump theory. Jesus is fake news.

Silence is meant for death. Now that also does not mean I want you to never shut the fuck up either. Those people have a special place in hell and hopefully are not very chaste because a dick in their mouth is pretty much the only thing that will ever get them to be quiet. I’d prefer it be a nasty dick maybe they will get some disease of the mouth, but nothing fatal, I mean I’m not a total bitch. Most STDs have cures these days.

I cannot wake up in the morning without hearing some kind of music within the first 5 minutes of being awake. If it even takes that long. Today it took longer. I got into a massive fight with Alexa. She can be a real fickle bitch at times. After about 5 tries of having her fail miserable, she got thrown across the room. She is okay and said she will not press charges, so I am quite the happy camper.  She really just do not seem to like my using my Spotify or playing music anywhere except out of her sorry ass speaker. At least she beat boxes better then me.

When I try and read something I have a real lot of difficulty doing so when there is silence. I mean I cannot listen to metal and read though I haven’t really tried. Quite possibly with some pussy hair metal garbage from the 80s I could but legit death metal would put me to the test. Honestly the more layers, instruments, words that are not screams, the better.

I feel a bit odd that I can do this. It’s probably not exactly normal reading and listening to music. I also tend to have a whiteboard by me at the same moment, jotting down randomness. It’s the exact moment I wish I had some kind of music talent as well but maybe I will tap into that some day as well. Because even though I am no longer a teenager, when someone says no you can’t do that to me, all I hear is a big resounding “Yes.”

Silence when shopping is one of the worst things in the world too. Seriously if I do not have my earbuds with me at the store when I’m there alone, I will turn around and the shopping will happen another day. I don’t want to hear your child, your musak, your rascal shooter, or about your hard ass day. Just stop,stop, stop!!!!

Maybe this is the millennial side of me. I’m kinda like a frosted mini wheat generationally speaking.  I think the proper term for it according to the internet is the AOL generation. I prefer to think of myself as generation fuck you. As in most of the time you are more then likely an idiot and while I really want to tell you to go fuck yourself, I will show restraint but only because the Jameson hasn’t paid me a visit yet.

So now I will sleep with the music blaring, reading a book by the candlelight, and with the TV on with close captioning so just in case I happen to sneeze I will have something to keep me busy for those 5.9 seconds it takes me to blow my nose. Please silence stay away.

Its Called Karma You Kreaton

I was down in The Great Southern Swamp for some hellish holiday shit when something rather odd happened.

My Wife and I were driving back to our temporary base camp when I saw a something peculiar out of the corner of my eye. I asked my Wife to hold up ,and turn into the small empty parking lot of some small business. I had her drive down to the far end and park. I got out and peered around the corner to see exactly what the fuck I saw because it look bizarrely different.

What I saw was an average run of the fucking mill garbage can (the one with a flip lid and rear wheels), BUT what was cool was someone had tagged the garbage can with yellow spray paint. The Artist had written the message “NCAH Will Bite You” on all 4 sides of the garbage can no less, and then topped it all off with a caveman like hieroglyph of what appeared to be some sort of cat looking animal. I decided it was odd enough I was going to take a few pictures to document the weirdness when I hear my Wife say “He’s just taking a picture.”

I stood up as I had squatted down for a better shot to see sizable Veterinary Technician lording over me. The big bald bastard must have been about 6’3″ or so 200 some odd pounds and was standing in front of me bowing his chest out. He had his arms hanging at his sides all tensed up like he was about to lunge at me, and all that macho male posturing primal bullshit. On top of it all the big son of a bitch was staring me down hardcore glaring at me like I told him to go fuck his mom.

I couldn’t figure out why the hell my taking a picture of a fucking garbage had illicit such a aggressive reaction. Second I thought fuck him in his big bald bitch ass the big bald bastard. So I stood up and simple explained the obvious that I saw the garbage can, thought it was rather bad ass, and wanted to take picture. This Big Bastard stood there not saying a fucking thing just glaring at me like I’m the asshole.

So I attempted to chat with the Big Bald Bitch because at this point I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on with this fucking whack job. He just kept up the silent tough guy like a hollywood action movie cliche. Finally the Bald fuck says “Its (the small business was) a Veterinary Clinic.”, and then went stone cold silent again like a shitty statue. I asked who NCAH meant to see if it was a place, organization, or business perhaps at which point the Big Bitch informs me it stands for NORTH CAL ANIMAL HOSPITAL in a cocksucking condescending tone of voice before going back to scowling at me.

Well I knew at this point there wasn’t fuck all I could do to reason with this Big Bald Bastard so it was time for me to get the hell home. I was half way back to the car when I turned around (still walking mind you) and said something like “I don’t see why your such an asshole… I just wanted a picture because its a cool picture I didn’t tag it you miserable fuck…You didn’t need to be a dick but you did you fucking asshole…fuck you, fuck off with that bullshit…Fucker…”

I get in the car as my Wife is telling the Big Bald Bitch that we’re leaving, when the Big Son of a Bitch say quite loudly “Why did it have to be that way??!” His question boggled my mind as I tried to figure out how big of a motherfucking ignorant idiot he really was. I couldn’t help myself and I yelled back “YOU DECIDED TO BE A FUCKING DICK, AND I DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MACHO BULLSHIT THATS WHY ASSHOLE.”

I can’t believe their actually People that are apparently like this gentlemen are simply too fucking stupid to live, how have they lasted this long honestly??!!

Thanks for the READ,

Les Sober