"Damn, I've shit my pants again" Buckminster Brownpants thought to himself as he drove his 18 wheeler of pure Mecklenburg County Carolina golden brown tobacco up US 77 at over 80 mph eating his (whole can of) unsliced spam and pickle sandwich singing along with Waylon Jennings, huffing and puffing on his free gratis Carolina cigarettes and chewing a big wad of Mail Pouch (on the right side). "Hell, I'll have to stop to clean up this mess. Shouldn't have eaten all that sauerkraut and pork sausage last night at the Concord Meat Pounding Facility. Four shits in less than thirty miles... I'll never make it on time". Buckminster rolled down the cab window to let fresh air pollution/exhaust fumes dissipate the unbearable stench that had yet again filled his mobile domain affectionately named "Dolly Parton II". Brownpants hung his head out the window and attempted to spit out a big wad from his right side but instead a large chunk of spam the size of a small potato came flying out and, at 80 mph, smashed right in Buckminsters face as he swallowed and nearly choked on the whole Mail Pouch wad than went down his throat at that very moment. The force of the pollution blowing into the cab flung the lit cigarettes all over the Dolly Parton II as this modern day caveman attempted to simultaneously dislodge the tobacco wad from his wind pipe, clean the pulverized food slop off of his face, steer his big rig back to the right lane and squirm around in his fourth seat of liquid and solid feces.
The gruesome beast managed to get the rig over into the right lane as he slowed down to 76 mph without killing anyone, rolled the window back up, coughed up the Mail Pouch and began rechewing it on the right side, and mentally sang along with Jennings. "Damn, I lost a good chunk of spam there. Where are my cigarette's?" With no rest stop in sight Brownpants moved up to 83 mph and lit 3 more cigarettes, sitting there in his self made mobile pig sty/compost heap, squirming. "Damn, all I've got left is a box of Slim Jims". BigBoy Buckminster sensed a burning odor but figured it was probably the shit he was sitting in as he floored his right foot and started consuming the whole box of Slim Jims on the left side of his mouth. Getting very dry, he popped open a 40 oz. bottle of Olde English 800 malt and slopped that down with the now shredded Mail Pouch and about 10 Slim Jims. Dolly II was now flying at over 100 mph. The beast next finished off the 3 cigs, all at the same time. He only then began to realize that the smoke that had filled the cab was not from his 3 cigs- they were now out- but that Dolly II was on fire! Buckminster, always quick on his feet and a lot slower in the head, poured what was left of his malt liquor on the flames but that didn't help too much. As he was overdue for a piss he pulled out his doink and flooded the cab with a flow of urine that would make any dog envious. It was pretty bad again in the stench filled mobile compost heap. Buckminster, nearly overcome with the stink of piss in fire, not to mention the shit that filled his pants, again rolled down his window to toss the malt bottle out, but it slipped out of his piss covered hand and crashed into the wind shield of a station wagon that this monstrosity passed at 103 mph. All 7 people inside were killed instantly as the station wagon plowed into another vehicle, killing a couple in a Yugo. Now Buckminster Brownpants was swerving left and right, forcing vehicles off the road, spilling part of his precious load of Mecklenburg County Carolina golden brown tobacco. Several bales fell off and people were abruptly stopping, not to avoid the bales, but attempting to recover this gift from the heavens. A major pile up occurred just west of Yadkinville. 32 cars and 14 trucks were involved and 16 fatalities resulted but Buckminster never knew of the carnage he caused, as he drove Dolly northward, on fire at about 100 mph. He sensed another wave of sauerkraut and pork sausage waste eminent. Knowing this neck of the woods, he slowed down to 80 and eventually pulled his rig over for a rest, even though he was way behind schedule. The beast maneuvered the whole cab down into the Yadkin River which enabled him to extinguish the fire, take a much needed bath, do some house cleaning in Dolly II, dump another load of sausage and sauerkraut and catch a few carp which the caveman ate raw, right there on the riverbank.
On the road again, cleaned and refurbished, Buckminster lit up a big bowl of Mecklenburg County Carolina fortified hash he had stashed in his Carolina Panther baseball cap as he floored Dolly to well over 110 mph on his way to Dobson, passing vehicles like they were standing still!
"I've got a special treat awaiting at Dobson. I sure hope I can hold it in
until I get there", he thought, as hash-fairies danced through his head
and a general glaze formed over his blood shot eyes.
Ending 1
Ending 2
Ending 3
2/08
