Once Eagle, Katy, Julie, and myself went to this black, gay bar in downtown Atlanta on a whim, just a cure for boredom. When we got out of the car, we walked past 688 and I thought to myself, "What a bunch of lame fucks," and we strolled into Loretta's. Take into consideration that none of us are gay, but they gladly served us underage kids with a smile.

We hit the bar and I ordered a bottle a Bud, still weary of my surroundings, and worried that we would get caught somehow. We went upstairs to play pool I think, or at least to get away from the rampant gayness that was all around us. Two underage white kids that weigh a deuce and a half combined stood out amongst our gracious hosts of the evening.

We were feeling a little old and Jewish, so Eagle and I hit up the gin and tonics. They were pretty good and we had about three each I believe. I decided to turn back to my trusted friend Budweiser(bottles, not cans my friends) and my mind began to wander.

For some reason, the bartender thought it would be cool to give me a shot called "nightmare." That sounds like a pretty good drink. Christ.

As I scanned the bar and my current enviorment, I noticed this little paper sign taped to the mirror that read "Aftershock shots- only $2." I looked at my slowly depleting funds and my brain shuttered.

Just for the tally, I had already put down three gin and tonix, about eight Buds, and I was on my way to spending twenty-six dollars on Aftershocks shots. Note the price again as stated above. Laughing is permissable at this point.

During the blasts of cinnamon flavored death, I had noticed that I had lost my friend. And I also noticed that I hadn't taken a piss yet. Luckily I didn't have to go very far. There was my favorite bronze god sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, asleep. I wasn't sure how long he had been there. I asked him if he had been sodomized, he said no. So we went back to the bar, where we commenced drinking some more. My clever friend Katy decided that she had had enough of her drink and forced me to drink the last 2/3 of her tequila sunrise. My brain quivered. That girl Julie wanted me to go over to 688 to meet some friends of hers that worked there. I was already past my limit, and feeling my blood getting thinner by the minute.

Now, the only time I had ever heard of this place was in the song "Disco Riot" by the Anti Heros. That's not really saying much, I just wanted to get the Anti Heros in this story somehow. I'm not sure if anyone else came along. Eagle may have. I am helped up and out the door and walked to 688. I sit at the bar and have a Guinness. After starting on my second bottle of liquid meat, she begin bringing her friends around to introduce them to me. I just looked at them.

Skip forward to the car. I went from FUBAR to comatose in a matter of minutes. We stopped at this Waffle House on exit 14 at Flat Shoals. This isn't the yellow safe haven that Erik keeps refering to. That's two more exits down. I wake up and proceed to open the door. As I fall out of the car, I began to vomit onto the ground below me. Eagle helps me up, and I regurgitate some more of the refreshments I had drank earlier. Most of those efforts landed on my pants. You know those little red crystals in Aftershock, well, those don't dissolve very fast. The vibrant swirls of red and brown with the red sparkles was enigmatic and beautiful, and smelled like a pile of shit. After I finally stopped that shit, we started moving toward the door. Some call it walking, but I don't. I noticed the cop in the squad car about twenty feet away from me. As I walked past him I gave him the nod of the south and entered the land of orange and brown and dental hygenically challenged. I proceeded to sleep some more, following the bouncing of my head off the table.

I woke up a little while later, having to urinate again. I got up and went to the latrine. Still incoherent, I commenced with the business at hand. About two minutes later I had been done, but continued to stand there in a daze. As I began to lose my balance, I thought of the gay bar I just left and laughed. I fell back quite gracefully. I broke my fall with the back of my head on the ceramic tiled wall behind me. And I proceeded to laugh at myself, dispite the pain and concussion setting in. When I finally got out of there I went back to the table. That's when I was told about the cop that had come to talk with us whilst I slept on the table earlier. Now that's funny.

On the way back to the Pines, I once again blacked out in the backseat. Eagle pulled me out and we progressed to the door that read "8," and had been scratched up by this retarded dalmation that was scared of tender sweet ham. I woke up about halfway up the stairs and looked at him at him strangely, wondering how he was managing to walk me up the broked, iron stairway back to our soiled stomping ground. I weigh at least fifty pounds more than he does wet and fully clothed.

"What's up tiger?" he asks. "Yeah," I replied

*** OUR DIET AD SERIES: "STUPID-MAGIC! 30 ADS IN 30 DAYS." EVERY DAY IN AUGUST A NEW, STUPID DIET AD WAS EXAMINED AND RIDICULED. ***

WWW.CRANK.COM
WWW.WATERBONG.NET
WWW.METABABY.COM

Great American Pastime
BY CHRISTOPHER CURRY

Symptoms
FOUND BY JOANNE McCAUGHEY

The New Economy
BY STEVE DE SEVE

• • •

EMAIL • ABOUT • WHERE CAN I PARK MY CAR IN BROOKLYN? • ARCHIVES • SUBMISSIONS • DIET AD COLLECTION • COOL! MORE ART • FLASH-O-MATIC • TODD'S RAMBLINGS • REVIEWS • THE CROSSED WIRE • HOME