Sunday, January 30, 2005

I Have A Black Belt In Bullshit

The way escort agencies work is the fee is split three ways. The agency gets $100.00 and the girl gets $100.00 and the driver gets what is left which could range from $25.00 to $75.00 plus $10.00 from the girl. This is the split for each call during any given night. The fees change for multiple hour calls, but we don't have to worry about that right now. If a girl is turned away, the $25.00 to $75.00 still has to be paid. No if, ands, or buts, the driver always get paid. It's his car and gas.

I was sicker than a dog one weekend. I was so sick I could barely move or lift my hands higher than my shoulders. I had the flu from hell, but I was still driving one of the girls. Her name was Mercedes (yeah right). I could make $1500.00 on a weekend just driving. I'm never to sick to make that kind of money for two days work.

We had gotten a two girl call at one of the hotels nearby. I drove Mercedes and met JB (you remember JB from
this story) at the hotel, he was driving a girl named Melissa. We watched the girls go in and we went around the corner to get some Chinese food because we had an hour to kill. No sooner than I received my order, my pager went off. I looked at it and read the number, 911. That could only mean one thing, the girls were in trouble. JB and I ran back around to the hotel. We went up to the third floor and knocked on the door. Mercedes answered the door, she was pissed.

Mercedes: "These guys don't have any money."
Trashman: "Let me deal with this, just keep your mouth shut."

We walked into the room and there stood two fairly large guidos. They had the entire guido package, gold chains, dark slicked back hair, and tight shirts unbuttoned half way down, too many muscles from too many steroids. The works. I figured this was going to get worse before it got better. JB is a fairly small guy and I was sick, but there was no way I could let these girls or the guidos for that matter see any sign of weakness.

Trashman: "What do you mean you don't have any fucking money?"
Guido 1: "When we called you guys said you took credit cards."
Trashman: "Bullshit. I'm the one that answered the phone. I didn't say a damn thing about credit cards."
Guido 1: "Well we have credit cards just no cash."
Trashman: "Then I need $50.00 for driving fees."
Guido 2: "What do you mean driving fees?"
Trashman: "When you called I explained to you, that should you turn away the girls there would be two $25.00 driving fees. That's a fee for each driver, just for showing up. That's $50.00 total."
Guido 1: "I just told you we don't have any cash."
JB (getting loud): "You have to pay."
I turned and looked dead in JB's eyes.
Trashman: "Shut-up JB."
JB: "They have to pa..."
Trashman: "I SAID shut-up. Take the girls and go back down to the car."
JB: "You sure?"
Trashman: "Yeah. I can handle this."

The whole time I'm giving him that look. You know the one that says "Don't go too far. I may get my ass beat and you need to get yours beat too."

I nudged JB and the girls out the door and closed it behind them. When I turned around the guidos were smiling at me.

Trashman: "What the fuck are you smiling at?"
Guido 1: "Your friend just left."
Trashman: "So?"
Guido 2: "The door locks automatically, he can't get back in."
Trashman: "I don't want him to get back in."
Guido 1: "Huh?"
Trashman: "I don't want any witnesses."
Guido 1: "What the fuck are you talking about? There's two of us and one of you and you ain't THAT big."
Trashman: "I see it like this. I don't have to be THAT big because I'm THAT bad. Y'all owe me $50.00 and you're going to pay me or we're going to fight. Now, you MAY kick my ass, I don't really think so but anything could happen. Once we start fighting someone's going to call the cops and we're all going to jail. My bail will be paid before we get there and even if it's not, a night in jail is nothing new to me. You however are going to have to explain to your wife, or girlfriend or your momma that you need to be bailed out of jail because you refused to pay for the hookers you ordered.
Guido 2: "Fucking pay him."

Guido 1 fished the money out of his wallet and handed it over to me. I took the money and turned to walk out the door, just I opened the door Guido1 said "Sorry about the trouble sir." I kept on walking down the hall and never looked back. I entered the elevator and as soon as the doors closed I slumped against the wall. Man was I wore out. I never new how much strength was required to bullshit somebody.

I walked over to my car, JB was parked right next to me. He rolled down his window and I looked in. The mother fucker had chopsticks in his hand. He was FUCKING eating.

Trashman: "What the fuck are you doing?"
JB: "I'm eating."
Trashman: "I can see your eating, asshole. I mean why didn't you come back up?"
JB: "You told me to bring the girls out to the car."
Trashman: "YEAH, well that means come back with a tire tool mother fucker."
JB: "Oh. Well did you get our $50.00?"
Trashman: "No. I got my $50.00. You want some money, go get your own."

Special thanks to Seven for the new header. You are the fucking man. Thanks dude.

Friday, January 28, 2005


This has been one hell of a week. Actually the story starts last Friday. Some girl in Trash Jr's class handed him a note that said "Tell Hunter (another boy in the class) to kill the teacher." Well Trash Jr. turned the note in because he was aware of the fallout should he be caught with it. She was also busted for stealing a cell phone from another girl in class. The teacher dismissed the whole incident and assumed it was all over. WRONG.

Wednesday the same girl (we'll call her DQ for Drama Queen) suddenly burst into tears and said Trash Jr. slapped her. There were two witnesses that said he never touched her. Once again the teacher talked to everybody involved and dismissed the incident. I was never contacted. Trash Jr. told me about it when he came home from school. I figured it was over since no one called me. WRONG.

Thursday DQ went to AP (you remember AP from this story) and changed her story. Now she says Trash Jr. grabbed her arms and slammed her against the wall and threatened to kill her. AP dragged Trash Jr. into her office and told him if DQ says it again he will be sent to Juvi (Juvenile Hall). Trash Jr said he was almost crying (he doesn't cry) so it must have been really scary. She told him he was at that "magical age" where he could be sent to jail. Sounds like taunting to me. She had the names of the witnesses that could clear him, but she never checked with any of them. This same bitch that didn't want me to call the cops when he got sprayed with paint thinner was now threatening to send my son to jail. Once again I was never contacted. I guess she thought I wouldn't find out. WRONG.

When Trash Jr. got home he told me and I called the school. Of course she had left for the day, so I talked to the principal. She promised to look into it and call me back today. I figured it would be best if I stayed away from the school, I have a very violent temper when properly provoked, otherwise I'm the nicest serial killer you could ever meet. I don't condone hitting women but I really wouldn't have any issues with punching AP in the face. I think she's a man trapped in a woman's body, and she didn't pick a very good one to get trapped in either.

Thursday night Trash Jr's teacher called Jen and told her he had hit a "special needs" kid during art class. He hit the kid because the kid called him gay. Trash Jr. doesn't handle name calling very well, the teacher told him he should have told on the kid instead of hitting him. The teacher also said she over heard Trash Jr. and Hunter discussing making a bomb. Damage control at the school was in full swing. Jen called me at work and told me everything. I talked to Trash Jr. on the phone and got all my facts straight.

This morning I talked to the teacher, everything went OK. She agreed to call me anytime my little trouble magnet had problems. Then the principal called and said she had spoken to AP and DQ and Trash Jr. Supposedly it was all fixed. I asked her about the taunting way AP had threatened to send Trash Jr. to Juvi. She said she was not aware of that. I informed her that if AP had anything else to do with my son I would file harrasment charges and get a restraining order. Now my sons care falls on the principals shoulders. She was OK with that. I asked her if she was aware of the "kill teacher" note. She didn't have a clue. She promised to look into it. Problem solved, right? WRONG.

This afternoon when Trash Jr. came home we had a little discussion. Seems he told the teacher this kid was calling him gay. In fact he told her several times. She did nothing about it, so he fixed it himself. The bomb discussion was just Hunter telling Trash Jr. that he had a friend that used some fire crackers to blow up some toys in his backyard. AP took Trash Jr. into her office again this afternoon even after I left instructions for her to stay away from him. This is far from over.

On top of all this I was awakened this afternoon by a Deputy Sheriff banging on my front door. I was served with a subpoena to be a witness for the state against my neighbor. Y'all remember him. He was the guy introducing his tallywacker to the kindly neighborhood folks. I didn't see any thing. I just took care of his kids until his wife came home. Tune in next week for the next episode of "The Tallywacker and the Vice Principal That Wished She Had One."

Wednesday, January 26, 2005


There are a lot of differences between men and women. One of the main differences is the way we look at each other. Women are looking for Mr. Right or Mr. Perfect while men are looking for a woman that will just put up with our bullshit. A man will accept a woman for who and what she is, hell that's why he likes her. Yet a woman wants a man she can mold into her ideal man.

I've been seeing a lot of this lately. Why do women insist on changing their man. When a man sees a women he likes, he thinks "I like her". That's all he thinks. When a woman sees a man she likes, she thinks "I like him, but he would be better if__________". Then she comes up with a list of things to change about him.

I've got news for you ladies. He ain't changing. Get used to it. He will always be the same guy you met and decided to spend your life with. Don't ask him to wear a different style of clothes. Don't try to get him to like that weird music you listen to. Don't try to stop him from burping at the table or farting in public. Don't expect him to give up football on Sundays. Don't think for a minute he's going to stop masturbating. Oh sure there will be subtle changes over the years, but these are changes he wants to make not changes you want him to make. Leave him alone, he's not bothering you.

I'm sure a lot of you ladies will disagree with me. That's what the comments are for. You'll be saying things like "I'm not like that. I love _______ for the way he is." I'm not going to argue with you, this is just my opinion, and you don't want to admit I'm right.

Jen would love it if I would stop ripping the sleeves off my shirts. She would love it if I would wear collared shirts and dress shoes. She would love it if I would stop shaving my head. She would do flips if I stopped burping and farting. She wants me to stop cussing. But then I wouldn't be me. I would be phony, fake, a farce, not real, an imitation Trashman if you will. She gave up trying to change me a long time ago, but she gave it one hell of a shot.

I like women with big hair. I like to much eye shadow (preferably blue). I like women that look like whores and have no class. That's not Jen. She's pure class straight through. She's different than the kind of girls I'm used to. That's why I love her. I wouldn't change a thing about her.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

This Concludes Our Broadcast Day

It was the crazy cable whore. I know it was. That bitch cut my cable wire.

Today the cable bill collection lady showed up at my door. I'm a little bit behind on my bill, or I was until yesterday, that is. Now my bill is current, but she showed up wanting to know if we wanted to post date a check for next month (she gets commission on these post dated checks). Jen told her no and she left. Jen says she left anyway. I think she was hiding in the bushes.

About three hours later my internet connection took a shit. I went inside and my cable was off also. I called the cable company and was on hold for 30 minutes. When I finally talked to someone, she put me on hold for a tech. I was on hold for another 15 minutes. When this clown finally came on the phone, he told me he couldn't get a reading from the cable box or the cable modem. This is where I started to panic.

Trashman: "Dude. This is my life support system."
Cable Clown: "I'm sorry sir."
Trashman: "If I was hooked up to a heart monitor the beeps would be getting farther and farther apart."
CC: "I can't get a repairman out tonight."
Trashman: "I won't survive until tomorrow."
CC: "I can have someone there tomorrow between 8 am and 9 pm."
Trashman: "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Do you know what that sound was?"
CC: "No sir."
Trashman: "I'm code blue dude. You just killed me."
CC: "Would you like to make the appointment."
Trashman: "I have to and send the coroner too. I'm as good as dead."
CC: "Sir?"
Trashman: "I have two kids and a wife, they'll want me to talk to them. I need my cable."
CC: "I can give you a refund for two days."
Trashman: "Can you pay for my funeral?"
CC: "The cable company doesn't cover burial expenses sir."
Trashman: "Send the repairman."

Some people just don't have a sense of humor. I hung up the phone and grabbed the flashlight. I went around the corner and checked the cable pod just outside of the property line. Everything was OK in there. Then I went and checked the connection box on the back of the house. When I wiggled the box Jen screamed the cable was back on. Then it went off again. I grabbed the box again and the cover fell off. I looked inside and saw one of the wires (the one that brings the signal in) had been hacked on and was almost severed. I wiggled the wire and the cable came on and went off. Now I knew why I had no signal.

I called a friend of mine that has the tools and the know how. He came right over and fixed my connection. BOOM instant cable. So like I said I know it was the cable lady. Someone with the special tool opened the cable box and hacked on the correct wire. Who else could it be?

Jen sarcastically said she's going to put barbed wire around the cable box and that I'm crazy.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Glory Days

Back before I started dating Jen, I found myself in a position to date more than one woman at a time. The first was a nude dancer (ND), the second was a manger at a grocery store (GM) and the third was a vice president at a bank (VP). I had all my bases covered. I went out with the ladies usually on alternating nights. Usually, not always. Sometimes I would see two on the same night, and on a couple of occasions all three, if I started early enough. I never really lied to any of them. In other words I never committed myself to an exclusive relationship. They did, but I didn't. I can't help it if one of them assumed she was "the one". Which apparently each one of them believed.

I had it pretty good. Each one of these ladies offered her own special something to the relationship. The nude dancer used to take me out and buy me things, and most of the time she would insist on paying when we hit the town. Hey sometimes equal rights can be a good thing. The grocery store manager used to deliver my food to the house and I never had to pay. I would just call in an order and it would be delivered that night. The bank VP was a whole other story. She was a sexual freak. She didn't have a single inhibition, if she hadn't already tried it, she was willing to and if she had already tried it, she wanted to do it again. I was going to introduce her and the nude dancer for a little three way action and then eventually try to work in the grocery store manager. Sometimes I move too slow.

The day my little paradise came to a crashing halt was comical if nothing else. I guess you can only roll so many sevens before you crap out. Let me tell you when I crap out, I do it in style.

I had called in a grocery order the day before and and GM didn't deliver it that night due to some emergency, well I forgot all about it. The next day I was on the phone making plans for later on that evening with VP. My call waiting buzzed and I switched over. It was ND, we started talking dirty to each other and one thing led to another and it became a rather long phone call. I forgot all about VP being on the other line. I guess she got mad and hung up. While I was talking dirty to ND, GM showed up with the groceries. She let herself in the back door and put everything away, and then she came to my bedroom and caught me on the phone with ND. I had the phone in one hand and my dick in the other. GM started screaming and I hung up on ND.

Are you with me so far? So now GM is screaming, my pants are around my ankles and I just hung up on ND and VP had hung up waiting for me to come back on the line. I yanked up my pants and chased GM out the door trying to explain (lie) my way out of this.

After about 30 minutes of explaining (lying) in the front yard, I finally had GM calmed down. Lo and behold, ND shows up. She wants to know who the fuck was screaming when we were on the phone, why the fuck I hung up on her, and who is this fucking bitch in my yard. The shit had hit the fan. Now GM wanted to know why the phone sex lady would know where I lived. ND proceeded to yell she wasn't the "phone sex" lady, she was my girlfriend. GM said that wasn't possible, because she was my girlfriend. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, VP showed up. She wanted to know why I didn't answer the phone, she had been trying to call me back after I switched over on call waiting. Also who were the two crazy bitches screaming and yelling in my front yard. GM and ND turned on VP and wanted to know who the fuck she was calling crazy bitches and who the fuck she was. VP said she was my girlfriend. More shit, bigger fan.

At this point I'm sitting on the front steps trying to figure out where I went wrong. The three lovely ladies are screaming in my front yard and they're using language that would make a sailor blush. Oh goody here comes the police. I guess one of my neighbors called in a domestic dispute. It was one of the locals that I just happened to know. Sgt. Eddie gets out of his cruiser and walks up to me and says "So what's going on Trashman?" I explained that I was dating these three raving lunatics and they had just found out about each other.

Sgt. Eddie: "That's funny."
Trashman: "It's not funny from here."
Sgt. Eddie: "Do you think they'll get physical?"
Trashman: "No. They're all talk. They'll calm down in a little bit."
Sgt. Eddie: "OK. If they start swinging on each other, just call headquarters and I'll come back."
Trashman: "Where are you going?"
Sgt. Eddie: "I have real crimes to deal with. If I get involved in this, it might turn into more than an argument."
Trashman: "You're not leaving."
Sgt. Eddie: "Why not?"
Trashman: "Here in a minute they're going to figure out I'm the asshole and they're going to turn on me. Then it might get physical."

That's about the time they figured it out. I'm glad the police were there. I'm not scared of anything, but I came real close that day. Sgt. Eddie managed to get them all cleared out and gone, then he laughed at me some more and left. I was all alone. I went inside, made some dinner, watched some TV and planned.

So two weeks later after dozens of flowers and probably hundreds of those "I'm sorry baby, you know they didn't mean anything to me, you're the only one for me" phone calls, I was still alone. I gave up and made a booty call on one of my other ex's (a psycho in her own right, but that's another story). The last I heard, ND, GM, and VP were still friends.

Kind of makes me feel good that I can bring people together like that.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005


I thought I was going to dodge this bullet, but it seems Seven had me in his crosshairs. Remember bro paybacks are a bitch and I'm a vindictive mother fucker. The French blood in you will cause you to surrender. LOL

Let the madness begin

3 names you go by:
1. Asshole, that's Mr. Asshole to you
2. Snookums
3. Mr. President (soon)

3 screen names you have:
1. Trashman
2. TrashMan
3. Trash Man

3 things you like about yourself:
1. I'm pretty
2. I'm humble
3. I'm modest

3 things I hate/dislike about myself:
1. My pathetic little dick
2. My inability to say no to this quiz
3. The fact I can lick my eyebrows

3 parts of your heritage:
1. Asshole 49%
2. Mother Fucker 51%
3. Trash 110%

3 things that scare you
1. Not a
2. Damn
3. Thing

3 of your everyday essentials:
1. Cigarettes
2. Coffee
3. Mirror (I'm pretty)

3 things your wearing right now:
1. Nipple Clamps
2. Cock Ring
3. 6" Heels

3 of your favorite bands/artists:
1. AC/DC
2. Kid Rock
3. Willie Nelson

3 of your favorite songs at the present:
1. The Weight - The Band
2. Into the Mystic - Van Morrison
3. Brother Loves Traveling Salvation Show - Neil Diamond

3 things you want in a relationship(love is a given)
1. Head
2. Blow Job
3. Fellatio

2 truths and a lie (no particular order to keep you guessing):
1. The earth is round
2. I don't really have a pathetic little dick
3. The sky is blue

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:
1. A big juicy ass
2. Full lips for blowing with
3. Shaved

3 things you just can't do:
1. Quit my job
2. Like my car (it's tiny)
3. Scratch my back in the very middle

3 of your favorite hobbies:
1. Masturbation
2. Looking at myself
3. Looking at myself while I masturbate

3 things you want to do badly right now
1. End this quiz
2. Plan my revenge on Seven
3. Fart without shitting myself

3 careers you are considering:
1. Millionaire
2. Billionaire
3. Short Order Cook

3 kids names (either boy or girl)
1. Billy the
2. Nasty Dog
3. Poindexter

3 things you want to do before you die:
1. Bang Nicole Ritchie
2. Nuke a foreign country
3. Establish World Peace

3 people who have to take this quiz now:
1. Jeanette
2. El Sid
3. Catt

Sunday, January 09, 2005

B.J. and the Barf

I have had a contract put on me. One time a friend bought my life back from some really bad guys. I have even had run-ins with the Mob on a couple of occasions. But out of all the things I've done, I have never put my life in as much danger as I'm about to do right now, by telling this little tale. The things I do for you people. This has got to be our little secret. OK? You promise? Remember loose lips sink ships and in this case could get me killed.

Back before Trashman Jr. was a twinkle in my eye, when Jen and I had only been dating a few months, we used to party like there was no tomorrow. In fact we were on a three month party. I remember the day well. We had a early meeting with Jose Quervo and throughout the meeting we had fired off quite a few Silver Bullets. For the non-drinkers: We were slamming tequila and chasing it with Coor's Light. It was still early in the evening and we were at one of our favorite bars making plans to go out later. Back then partying was serious business to us.

I had paid the tab and we worked our way out to the car. It's kind of hard to walk when your lips are hermetically sealed to someone else's. We climbed into the car and continued our public display of affection. We were parked on one of the side streets in the shadows, so we weren't really anywhere that we could be seen.

Things were getting really hot and heavy when Jen leaned across me and pulled the lever that lowers the back of the seat. I fell back and she lowered my zipper. Ahhh freedom at last, it was so nice to have my manhood out of the confining stranglehold of my jeans. I wasn't real sure what was going on because this was so unlike her. Next thing I know, I'm on the receiving end of some oral gratification. Man do I love freaky shit. There's nothing like getting blown in public.

I was having the time of my life enjoying one of the greatest things a man could get from a woman, when all of a sudden without warning "RRRRAAAALLLLPPPHHHHH" my lap was full of tequila and beer and whatever god-awful concoction Jen had for lunch. Was that corn? She sat bolt upright in her seat spewing apology after apology (she had already spewed everything else in my lap).

I pulled the lever and raised the back of the seat. I started the car and headed for home with my pants still unzipped and my dick soaked in the contents of Jen's stomach. I had to park about half a block from the house, I got out, zipped up and started walking to the house with the lap of my pants covered in puke, hoping no one would see me. All the way to the house I could only think one thing.

"It'll be years before I get another one of those."

Friday, January 07, 2005

Stayin' Alive

WARNING: Explit...Expiltc... Exlipc.... Story about fucking.

The year was 1980, I was 15 years old. I met a girl named Geena, she was from the wrong side of the tracks, which was cool because I was too. However my mom didn't want me to see her because she was from a long ways on the wrong side of the tracks. My mom liked to think we lived on the other side, but we didn't.

Mom always thought she was better and she is. I on the other hand know my roots and accept them with open arms. Hell, I'm proud to be The Trashman.

Back to Geena. She was poor white trash in every sense of the word. But she was HOT poor white trash.

My brother and I used to fix our beds up, so it looked like we were in them and then climb out the window and steal our mom's car. I would have him drop me off at Geena's house and then he would cruise around town and pick me up at a set time so we could sneak back home. Sometimes I took the car and would ride around with Geena, always hoping to get me some good lovin'.

Geena's mom thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. As far as she was concerned I came from money. I was in high school and held a full time job. I think she was hoping Geena and I would get serious enough that I would take one of her kids off her hands. So where Geena was involved, I could do no wrong. There wasn't any problem with me coming over at all times of the night to take her precious daughter on a little joy ride. I being 15, had a different kind of "JOY" ride on my mind.

I was a walking hormone. When I showed up at Geena's house I would ring the door bell with my dick, if I didn't feel like ringing the bell, my dick would knock on the door for me. I tried and tried and tried, but to no avail. I just couldn't get her out of her pants. Over the course of the summer I began to notice that when we were tongue rasslin' and swappin' spit she would get a little more receptive to my advances if the Bee Gee's came on the radio. I know it sounds weird but The Brothers Gibb made her hot. That's when the evil plan entered my devious little brain.

I bought The Bee Gee's Greatest Hits and the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever on 8-track. I know, I know, but mom's car only had an 8-track player.

I picked up Geena that night and drove her to a secluded spot. I put on the Greatest Hits tape and began to get busy. My plan was working, by the third song I had a handful of tit. Song number five and I was knuckle deep in the holiest of holies. Song number seven, her pants were off and I was about to score. That's when the police showed up. Back in those days there were only two or three cops at most on duty at night. She scrambled back into her pants and I stepped out of the car to explain that we were just hanging out. He told me to take her home and get home myself. You gotta love those small town police. I drove Geena home and picked up where I left off. Right in the parking lot in front of her apartment I sealed the deal.

Geena was a virgin. I was as shocked as you are. However after the initial "Ow that hurts." and the bleeding she became, "Geena-She Wolf of the Backseat". You just gotta love a woman that kicks, bites, screams, and scratches. I know I do.

From that moment on every time I saw Geena, all she wanted to do was fuck. I didn't have any problem with that. It was just getting difficult to find places to park. Her brothers liked to sneak up to the car a when we parked outside of her apartment and act like little pricks. Every time I found a dark spot around town the police would cruise by, which would put me in a panic, because I didn't have a license and it was stolen car even though it was my moms. But we managed somehow.

One night, my brother and I snuck out without fixing the beds. We figured it had been all summer and we never got caught, what are the odd's now? He dropped me off at Geena's and left. I was in luck. Geena's brothers were gone to their dad's for the weekend and her mom was bedridden with arthritis. Let the fucking begin. She closed the door to her mom's room and I put on the Bee Gee's nice and low. It was party time.

Now this is second hand information. My mom woke up and for some odd reason decided to check on my brother and I. She opened our bedroom door and to her surprise we were gone. She looked outside and her car was gone too. She borrowed the neighbors car and drove around town until she found my brother cruising the streets. She made him follow her home and then she asked where I was. The rat bastard told her everything.

Geena had one foot on the floor and one leg up over my shoulder. I was plowing her field like a good farmer should. It was hot, wet, nasty, sticky, young love gone crazy. I was in mid stroke when the front door flew open. We both looked up and there stood my mother. Let me tell you I don't believe I've ever seen that look in the eye's of anything except a rabid dog. Yet throughout this whole deal my hard-on didn't waver one bit. I was fifteen and I could have driven nails with my dick.

Mom (growling): "When you're done get your pants on and get your ass out to the car."
She turned and walked out closing the door behind her. I looked at Geena and she looked at me. I don't know who was more scared or embarrassed. I finished the stroke I was in the middle of before we were so rudely interrupted. Oh man did it feel good. I started buttering her muffin like nothing ever happened.

Geena (shocked): "What are you doing?"
Trashman: "Huh?"
Geena: "You gotta stop.... your mom...."
Trashman: "You heard her. She said WHEN I'm done."

Sunday, January 02, 2005

"I'm a BAD BAD Man"

My son, Trashman Jr. picked tonight's subject. He really seems to enjoy this story (I think because in this one I get my ass kicked). For a long time he didn't believe me, that is until Granny Grunt verified it at Christmas time.

In the early 80's Jack and I went to the big city on more than one occasion to be tested for military service. We used to go once or twice a year just for the free hotel and meal and there was usually a party. The guys shipping out the next day had to get in one last drunken good time. The recruiter in our hometown had been sending us for quite some time always hoping we would sign up. I don't remember if this was the time they got me or not, but I do remember what happened when we got home.

My mom was waiting at The Patch bus depot when we got back. She greeted us as we got off the bus and we headed for her car. I think she may have asked if we signed up. I'm not sure. However I remember very distinctly (I hear it in slow motion every time I think about it) she said "They have bear wrestling at the mall. Do either one of you want to sign up for it?" I turned and looked at Jack and he was looking at me, we both had stupid grins on our faces, which really wasn't that unusual. In those days we always had stupid grins on our faces, if you know what I mean. If you don't, I'm not going to spell it out for you.

I've always considered myself one of, if not the Baddest Mother Fucker on the planet. I had my mom drive straight to the mall. I went inside and signed up for "Bear Rasslin". There were three sets a day with three matches per set. I managed to get signed up for the next to last set on the last day. I had to wait a week. The anticipation damn near ate me alive, which was really the bears job. Jack and I went to the mall a couple of times during the week to look at the bear. I was scouting my competition. I remember saying things like
"When this is over I'm gonna have a bear skin rug."
"Should I have him stuffed?"
"How about mount the head?"
"Should I pose nekkid on the skin when I'm done with him?"
"I could use his fur for a coat and move to Alaska."
I'm sure I said a lot of other stupid shit as well.

Now let me give you a little background on the bear. His name was "Victor the Victorious". I think he was a Canadian brown. The chart said he was 6'8" and 680 pounds. He knew more than 40 wrestling moves all of which were controlled by his handler who used sight and sound signals. He had never lost a match. That of course was because he never fucked with me. Yet. What Victor and I both didn't know, was sooner or later you run into somebody bigger and badder. Somebody that's going to hand you your ass.

The night before the match I was hanging out at my mom's house, watching some detective show with her. She always loved detective shows but she hated watching them with me. Fifteen minutes in, I would announce who did it. Not that night.

Mom: "Something wrong?"
Trashman: "Why?"
Mom: "You didn't tell me who did it."
Trashman: "I'm kind of nervous about tomorrow."
Mom: "Oh, the bear thing?"
Trashman: "Yeah."
Mom: "I could always refuse to let you do it."
Trashman: "No. I already talked too much shit. I have to wrestle him."
Mom: "Ok. Let me know if you want out of it."
Trashman: "Gotta do it."

The next day I was prepared. I put on sneakers with plenty of grip. Lose clothing for a quick get away. Clothes under the clothes in case I had to use the get away. I went to the mall and the place was packed. It was Saturday so everybody in town that didn't have anything to do was there to hopefully see some poor bastard get mauled.

The bear had been declawed and wore a muzzle. The handler stayed in the ring the whole time, so there was "no chance" you would be hurt. The ring looked like any wresting ring except it was surrounded by chain link. I'm still not sure if it was to keep in the bear or the idiot that signed up to wrestle him.

I was first on the list for that set. When they called my name I crawled through the hole in the fence. I could hear "Gonna Fly Now" playing in my head. I was Rocky Balboa and he was Apollo Creed. The thing is, I was in Rocky 2, where Rocky won. He was in Rocky 1, where Apollo won.

I was told by the handler that Victor would only be as aggressive as I was. All that meant to me was this big hunk of bear meat was in the fight of his life.

I stood toe to toe with the hairy beast. I was looking up into his eyes and he was looking down into mine. I swear I saw a little spark of fear in those beady brown eyes. He put his paws on my shoulders and the trainer clapped his hands. I was driven into the mat. My knees buckled and I was on my back. The bear was headed for me, he was going to bring 680 pounds right down on my chest. I'm surprisingly fast for a fat man and back then I wasn't fat. I quickly rolled to my left and bounced to my feet. The bear stood back up walked over to me and put his paws on my shoulders again. CLAP. Down I went, and this time it hurt. Victor landed on my chest knocking the wind out of me. I couldn't breathe. He then proceeded to try to bite me, but he was wearing the muzzle so all he did was bounce his face off my chest, knocking out any wind I had left. The trainer leaned over any looked at me.

Trainer: "You had enough?"
Trashman (wheezing): "Get this mother fucker off me."

He gave the bear a little tug and lead him away. I rolled over and started crawling for the hole in the fence. I got about halfway and the bastard reached out with his big meat hook of a paw and grabbed my left foot (you know, the one that's not as cool as the rest of me) and pulled me back. I remember hearing a little girl scream (I'm sure it wasn't me). I kicked free and crawled even faster. I dove for the hole in the fence and tumbled out onto the floor of the mall. The crowd was cheering for me (laughing at me). I raised both arms high in triumph. As far as I'm concerned I won, I made it out alive. And I'm pretty sure he cheated.