Please pardon my absence. I took a long trip to Sante Fe, sat in goat shit, drank warm bourbon, and talked politics with a bunch of blue collar hill billies.
It’s what I have to do these days to feel alive.
That fucking suit was strangling me and all I could think about was a night under the stars sharing cocktails with live stock, taking acid, and grinnin ear to ear as those goats laughed they asses off at me.
There was one ugly fucking goat named Benji that laughed so hard, he woke the roosters up before the sun even cracked. I begged him to pipe down before those hen huntin cocks came a seekin to settle, but he didn’t give two flying squirrel shits. By the time they trickled in he was rolling on the ground laughing so hard those roosters couldn’t help but to join in.
Before I knew it I had pissed my pants laughing so hard with Benji the goat and those early risin roosters. We was all rollin around in tears laughing our asses off.
Of course, this was all on my last trip to the middle of fuckin no where.
My board of directors was pressuring me to upgrade my hotels. They made me a hire a fitness guru who they thought would bring a “better perspective”.
His name was Carl Thompson but he told me his friends call him crazy Carl.
I told him he looked and talked like a certified asshole.
He told me I needed to put in a juice bar and replace my caffeinated and decaffeinated coffee jugs.
And he didn’t just recommend. This little jagoff spoke to me like I was a child. He told me my way of thinking needed an upgrade.
I’ll come back to this little sonabitch later. What’s important is that you understand the reason for me taking these trips – literally and figuratively. Shooting the shit with heffers and getting in fist fights with the fuckin mules.
I need it.
Of course I still fly first class. But I do it my way. Dressed like some asshole off the street, drinking Dewars scotch on the rocks and letting all the corporate assholes around me admire my escape from hell.
When I land in some remote location off the grid, I drive my rental car 200 miles into the abyss. A town with 1 motel, 1 bar, a beautiful sunset, and a lot of dick swinging assholes.
The second I pulled into this particular motel I knew it was exactly what I was a lookin for. I saw the prostitutes makin they ways in and out of one room after the next.
When I got to the counter I saw my old friend Gene. I never met him but they all the same. A low life piece of shit who only smokes when they drink but drinks more than anyone you know smokes.
“What do you want?” Gene said as he stared at the tv with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“You is a straight shooter. I like that about you Gene.”
“My names not Gene, now what the fuck do you want?”
“I need a room for 4 nights and directions to the best bar in town.”
“$60 cash. It’s $10 a night plus a $20 tip. The tip’s for me. The only bar in town is right across the street.”
He pointed to a bar with half the sign lit up. The lit up part said “Suga” the unlit part looked like it said “r Daddy’s”. Now what kind of bar can you imagine names they self “Sugar Daddy’s”?
Fuck I love it here.
“If you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants while youse is in there ya hear?”
I couldn’t take that little jagoff gym asshole tellin me shit. But for some reason I liked it when Gene talked to me like I was an asshole.
“You need lovin, that’s what these here girls are for out here ok? You just come see me and we’ll take care of you.”
I nodded and smiled. I was glad to be home and I couldn’t wait to get into that bar.
……..to be continued.
To listen to the audio of this – which I think is much funnier. Click here….
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