Post by hk on May 28, 2007 16:17:09 GMT -6
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, I’m there now.”
I was using the local payphone inside the mechanical garage. It was early morning, and my car was getting worked on. Loud noises of metal scrapping and drills blazing filled the air. The garage was dirty, as oil spills, smashed walls, piled boxes and sweaty, huge, tough guys sat around the area.
“HK” Hunter Killer: “But you have another show?”
I was talking to, as you can see, HK over the phone.
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, me and Harris against Shuddix and Richy.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Who?”
Scott Lanegan: “To be honest, I don’t know. I suck at remembering shit. Either way, I’m gonna try to get out of here and head to Kansas City. I’ll talk to you later man.”
I hung up, and just then and there, the mechanic walked over to me.
Mechanic: “Here she be.”
Driving out to the road, the orange Plymouth shined in all of it’s glory. It was like as if it was never a piece of shit. The bumper was fixed, the windows were replaced, and other small things that made it look worth a couple thousand dollars. I smiled but something popped inside my mind. Quickly glancing over at the mechanic.
Scott Lanegan: “How much will this cost me?”
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Scott Lanegan: “All I wanted was the god damn engine fixed!”
Speeding down the highway, I was infuriated. The car now is worth a couple thousand, but it also cost me that. Using up practically all the money I earned from the last POW show, I was down to almost nothing. Again. Luckily they filled the gas tank to nearly full, and I was on my way to Kansas City in a breeze.
Making it back to the Missouri border, I stopped for gas. I sure do stop at a lot of gas stations, huh? Maybe I should totally change my image and buy myself a Hybrid. That’d totally cost me less to fill up, but at the same time, I’d look like a real loser driving one.
I pulled up to the pump, and got out of my Plymouth. Suddenly, three teenager kids, in their early 20s, walked over to me. They were dazed over my car. I started to fill up the car and looked over at them.
Scott Lanegan: “You like it, huh?”
Teen #1 (aka Zit On My Ass): “Yeah dude, looks totally cool!”
Teen #2 (aka Skinny Slacker): “Wow, awesome.”
Teen #3: “Get over yourselves. My car can smoke this anyday.”
I raised an eyebrow over at the third guy. I smelled a challenge coming on. Or it was my personal hygiene. Not too sure. Haven’t really had time to shower or anything…
Scott Lanegan: “Is that so? How about me and you? The highway. Winner gets-“
He cut me off.
Teen #3: “The other person’s car!”
Real f**ktard. But I went along with it.
Arriving at the highway, a car was already there, another dude waited at the side of the highway, and I guessed the other was at the end of the “course”. By this time it was around 1 AM and no other cars were around. A lot of my interesting things happen at night. Just noticed that. Anyway, I pulled my Plymouth next to his car. From what I could tell, it was a ’71 Chevrolet Caprice. It was covered in dirt, thus assuming that it was a brown color. Other than that, there weren’t any damages on the car.
Teen #3: “Don’t underestimate this. Just warning ya, bro.”
I nodded my head and we revved up the engines. Teen number one went in front of us. He had to yell for us to hear him.
Teen #1: “This highway goes straight, and then takes a wide right turn! Then you may run into some construction, but they don’t work this late! After that the sides of the highway is covered with a forest! We’ll meet at the end there for the winner!”
Scott Lanegan: “Let’s see what you got, pal.”
He counted to three and we took off. I pretty much smoked him 75% of the way. It wasn’t until I saw the construction. I smashed my way through a road closed sign and found myself on a bumpy road. Looking in the mirror, the kid’s headlights were at a distant. I decided to keep going. Turning my head back towards the road from the mirror, I saw a huge dirt mound in front of me.
Scott Lanegan: “Ahhhhh, no!”
The car pretty much flew in mid-air. It smashed inside a forest. The car went through many of the trees, and then I found myself rolling down a hill. I dove out of the car, and smashed into a large pile of mud. Watching my car roll down the hill, it finally stopped as it hit a large rock smack dab in the middle of the hill. Steam rose up from the front of the car.
I rushed down to it, and grabbed my bag and my camera. The entire front end was smashed on this huge rock.
Scott Lanegan: “This hill must be at least a half a mile long.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat, to take out the keys. I suddenly heard a “CRUNCH”. Then a “SNAP”. The rock slowly lifted up, being forced by the weight of the car.
Scott Lanegan “…”
The rock dove under the car, and I started rolling down the hill again. My entire life flashed back before me, including me in a stroller, me throwing rocks at a house, me riding a bike to school, me getting a first-time blow on a park bench, me playing the guitar in a basement, me walking in a ghetto, me dealing drugs, me laying in the bed at rehab, me wrestling at POW.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh shit! I still have a match!”
Pretty much forgetting that I had a nice paycheck coming in at Kansas City, I once again dove out of the car with my stuff. At the bottom of the hill was a high velocity flowing river. Mr. River, meet Mr. Car. Mr. Car, meet Mr. River. Mr. Lanegan, meet Mr. You’re f**ked Now.
Scott Lanegan: “Yep.”
I sat on that hill for awhile, staring at my now-screwed car. I waited until I heard some sirens. Or yells. Or something. I then realized I was so off-course, nothing was around. I got lost. Again. Why is it that every time I narrate something, something bad happens? Just not fair.
Scott Lanegan: “How am I suppose to get to Kansas City now?”
I then looked at my legs.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh no, I am NOT walking! If I do that, I’ll be in no shape for the next show at POW! There is no way!”
I felt pain on my elbows, a slight headache, and felt something real painful on my right foot. I then got up, and started walking. Saw that one coming, didn’t ya?
I was using the local payphone inside the mechanical garage. It was early morning, and my car was getting worked on. Loud noises of metal scrapping and drills blazing filled the air. The garage was dirty, as oil spills, smashed walls, piled boxes and sweaty, huge, tough guys sat around the area.
“HK” Hunter Killer: “But you have another show?”
I was talking to, as you can see, HK over the phone.
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, me and Harris against Shuddix and Richy.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Who?”
Scott Lanegan: “To be honest, I don’t know. I suck at remembering shit. Either way, I’m gonna try to get out of here and head to Kansas City. I’ll talk to you later man.”
I hung up, and just then and there, the mechanic walked over to me.
Mechanic: “Here she be.”
Driving out to the road, the orange Plymouth shined in all of it’s glory. It was like as if it was never a piece of shit. The bumper was fixed, the windows were replaced, and other small things that made it look worth a couple thousand dollars. I smiled but something popped inside my mind. Quickly glancing over at the mechanic.
Scott Lanegan: “How much will this cost me?”
[][][][][][][][][][][][]
Scott Lanegan: “All I wanted was the god damn engine fixed!”
Speeding down the highway, I was infuriated. The car now is worth a couple thousand, but it also cost me that. Using up practically all the money I earned from the last POW show, I was down to almost nothing. Again. Luckily they filled the gas tank to nearly full, and I was on my way to Kansas City in a breeze.
Making it back to the Missouri border, I stopped for gas. I sure do stop at a lot of gas stations, huh? Maybe I should totally change my image and buy myself a Hybrid. That’d totally cost me less to fill up, but at the same time, I’d look like a real loser driving one.
I pulled up to the pump, and got out of my Plymouth. Suddenly, three teenager kids, in their early 20s, walked over to me. They were dazed over my car. I started to fill up the car and looked over at them.
Scott Lanegan: “You like it, huh?”
Teen #1 (aka Zit On My Ass): “Yeah dude, looks totally cool!”
Teen #2 (aka Skinny Slacker): “Wow, awesome.”
Teen #3: “Get over yourselves. My car can smoke this anyday.”
I raised an eyebrow over at the third guy. I smelled a challenge coming on. Or it was my personal hygiene. Not too sure. Haven’t really had time to shower or anything…
Scott Lanegan: “Is that so? How about me and you? The highway. Winner gets-“
He cut me off.
Teen #3: “The other person’s car!”
Real f**ktard. But I went along with it.
Arriving at the highway, a car was already there, another dude waited at the side of the highway, and I guessed the other was at the end of the “course”. By this time it was around 1 AM and no other cars were around. A lot of my interesting things happen at night. Just noticed that. Anyway, I pulled my Plymouth next to his car. From what I could tell, it was a ’71 Chevrolet Caprice. It was covered in dirt, thus assuming that it was a brown color. Other than that, there weren’t any damages on the car.
Teen #3: “Don’t underestimate this. Just warning ya, bro.”
I nodded my head and we revved up the engines. Teen number one went in front of us. He had to yell for us to hear him.
Teen #1: “This highway goes straight, and then takes a wide right turn! Then you may run into some construction, but they don’t work this late! After that the sides of the highway is covered with a forest! We’ll meet at the end there for the winner!”
Scott Lanegan: “Let’s see what you got, pal.”
He counted to three and we took off. I pretty much smoked him 75% of the way. It wasn’t until I saw the construction. I smashed my way through a road closed sign and found myself on a bumpy road. Looking in the mirror, the kid’s headlights were at a distant. I decided to keep going. Turning my head back towards the road from the mirror, I saw a huge dirt mound in front of me.
Scott Lanegan: “Ahhhhh, no!”
The car pretty much flew in mid-air. It smashed inside a forest. The car went through many of the trees, and then I found myself rolling down a hill. I dove out of the car, and smashed into a large pile of mud. Watching my car roll down the hill, it finally stopped as it hit a large rock smack dab in the middle of the hill. Steam rose up from the front of the car.
I rushed down to it, and grabbed my bag and my camera. The entire front end was smashed on this huge rock.
Scott Lanegan: “This hill must be at least a half a mile long.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat, to take out the keys. I suddenly heard a “CRUNCH”. Then a “SNAP”. The rock slowly lifted up, being forced by the weight of the car.
Scott Lanegan “…”
The rock dove under the car, and I started rolling down the hill again. My entire life flashed back before me, including me in a stroller, me throwing rocks at a house, me riding a bike to school, me getting a first-time blow on a park bench, me playing the guitar in a basement, me walking in a ghetto, me dealing drugs, me laying in the bed at rehab, me wrestling at POW.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh shit! I still have a match!”
Pretty much forgetting that I had a nice paycheck coming in at Kansas City, I once again dove out of the car with my stuff. At the bottom of the hill was a high velocity flowing river. Mr. River, meet Mr. Car. Mr. Car, meet Mr. River. Mr. Lanegan, meet Mr. You’re f**ked Now.
Scott Lanegan: “Yep.”
I sat on that hill for awhile, staring at my now-screwed car. I waited until I heard some sirens. Or yells. Or something. I then realized I was so off-course, nothing was around. I got lost. Again. Why is it that every time I narrate something, something bad happens? Just not fair.
Scott Lanegan: “How am I suppose to get to Kansas City now?”
I then looked at my legs.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh no, I am NOT walking! If I do that, I’ll be in no shape for the next show at POW! There is no way!”
I felt pain on my elbows, a slight headache, and felt something real painful on my right foot. I then got up, and started walking. Saw that one coming, didn’t ya?