Part 3: Limp Bizkits and Red-Eye Gravy.
"Who's in, now who's out
Hands up, now hands down
Back up, back up
Tell me what you gonna do now
Breathe in, now breathe out
Hands up, now hands down
Back up, back up
Tell me what you gonna do now
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (what?)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (c'mon)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (yeah)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin'"
"That is enough!" Max said before flipping off the radio, after that he just went ahead and changed stations since it's doubtful only raising a finger would stop the music. The group were on the road for the second day and were like all men who go on a trip, hopelessly lost. Max was taking his turn at driving and in shotgun was Michael who insisted on listening to a hard rock station that was meant to turn your brains into a nice goo that the aliens of the brain sucking variety found most tasty.
Nice visual, this is my (the story) gift to you.
They were in a nice SUV they got from the Sheriff, who was really wanting his son gone so he could spend quality time with Amy DeLuca. The humans were in the back asleep with their heads on each other's shoulders. Max really wished he'd had a camera, as that image would be worth a good deal when they got back. His thoughts were disrupted when something bad started happening.
The author decided it was time to start being evil… Er, sorry. I mean the SUV starting making a coughing and sputtering noise that can only be done with sound, since this is text just imagine a bad car noise.
Max was starting to get worried and was looking for a place to pull over when he saw a sign saying that the nearest town was only two miles away, Deciding to try and get the car there instead of walking he drove carefully there. Unfortunately the noise the car was making woke up the humans in the back (yet Limp Bizkit blasting didn't, sheesh, men). With everyone awake they slowly got the car into town, once in town
A small known universal constant is that in small towns, the garage and gas stations have to be run by men named "Bubba" and had a southern accent, no matter where they were. This town was no exception. Having been told by "Bubba" that he'd "give 'er a look o'er and see whut Ikin do fer 'er" the four lost and scared teenagers decided to explore the town.
The town wasn't even a one horse town, it seemed some kids tried to ride the one horse they did have and it ran away. It had a group of houses, a main street that looked like an alley and stores that looked appropriate to a ghost town. Upon examination they found they were in Nevada, and after having hit Kyle repeatedly for his jokes on legal prostitution they found that the highlight of the town was a strip club, which Kyle and Alex were all for until the moment they realized it was a club that catered to women's taste.
Pardon me a moment, this is the story here. I just want to apologize for all of this, really, it's all the author's fault. And for what is about to come, I'm even more sorry.
Returning to "Bubba" they learned the bad news, the SUV could be fixed but it would take around five hundred dollars. More than the guys had. And they didn't want to call home for money. Gee, think the author has *anything* to do with this? Yeah, same here.
"Well boys, if'n yer in need'a'money den ya kin always take a shift at Ms. McMahon's 'Flappin' 'N 'Da Breeze' strip club. Why, when I wud yer age I could make a good five hundred a night." Bubba said, as he patted his large beer belly and greasy t-shirt.
The boys, hiding their cringes just nodded and began the solemn walk toward the strip club. They felt like inmates walking to their doom. They knew something was wrong, they felt manipulated and there was nothing they could do about it.
"Well Alex, think you can teach us how to strip for tonight?" Kyle asked, he was actually liking the idea. He was pretty sure that this would be fun, though he'd never admit it. Plus, Tess would love the story when he got back.
"No, best advice, make sure there isn't a mother there. Other than that, beats me." Alex still had nightmares about being caught almost with his pants down. A minute more and he'd have been in a thong with a big blush.
"At least there is no one in town who knows us, we're just passing through. And Max here will doctor our ID's so we can do it. And if anyone tells Maria I did this, I will personally kill you. So, let's prepare ourselves for the audition. Max, you have to teach me how to shake your man boobs." Michael purposely stepped behind Alex to avoid anything Max could do.
"This never happened, we aren't here now, we won't be here later and this never happened. Anyone says different I swear I will make you a mime in a green box." Max knew already something bad was going to happen.
The author laughed. Duh.
"Who's in, now who's out
Hands up, now hands down
Back up, back up
Tell me what you gonna do now
Breathe in, now breathe out
Hands up, now hands down
Back up, back up
Tell me what you gonna do now
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (what?)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (c'mon)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' (yeah)
Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin'"
"That is enough!" Max said before flipping off the radio, after that he just went ahead and changed stations since it's doubtful only raising a finger would stop the music. The group were on the road for the second day and were like all men who go on a trip, hopelessly lost. Max was taking his turn at driving and in shotgun was Michael who insisted on listening to a hard rock station that was meant to turn your brains into a nice goo that the aliens of the brain sucking variety found most tasty.
Nice visual, this is my (the story) gift to you.
They were in a nice SUV they got from the Sheriff, who was really wanting his son gone so he could spend quality time with Amy DeLuca. The humans were in the back asleep with their heads on each other's shoulders. Max really wished he'd had a camera, as that image would be worth a good deal when they got back. His thoughts were disrupted when something bad started happening.
The author decided it was time to start being evil… Er, sorry. I mean the SUV starting making a coughing and sputtering noise that can only be done with sound, since this is text just imagine a bad car noise.
Max was starting to get worried and was looking for a place to pull over when he saw a sign saying that the nearest town was only two miles away, Deciding to try and get the car there instead of walking he drove carefully there. Unfortunately the noise the car was making woke up the humans in the back (yet Limp Bizkit blasting didn't, sheesh, men). With everyone awake they slowly got the car into town, once in town
A small known universal constant is that in small towns, the garage and gas stations have to be run by men named "Bubba" and had a southern accent, no matter where they were. This town was no exception. Having been told by "Bubba" that he'd "give 'er a look o'er and see whut Ikin do fer 'er" the four lost and scared teenagers decided to explore the town.
The town wasn't even a one horse town, it seemed some kids tried to ride the one horse they did have and it ran away. It had a group of houses, a main street that looked like an alley and stores that looked appropriate to a ghost town. Upon examination they found they were in Nevada, and after having hit Kyle repeatedly for his jokes on legal prostitution they found that the highlight of the town was a strip club, which Kyle and Alex were all for until the moment they realized it was a club that catered to women's taste.
Pardon me a moment, this is the story here. I just want to apologize for all of this, really, it's all the author's fault. And for what is about to come, I'm even more sorry.
Returning to "Bubba" they learned the bad news, the SUV could be fixed but it would take around five hundred dollars. More than the guys had. And they didn't want to call home for money. Gee, think the author has *anything* to do with this? Yeah, same here.
"Well boys, if'n yer in need'a'money den ya kin always take a shift at Ms. McMahon's 'Flappin' 'N 'Da Breeze' strip club. Why, when I wud yer age I could make a good five hundred a night." Bubba said, as he patted his large beer belly and greasy t-shirt.
The boys, hiding their cringes just nodded and began the solemn walk toward the strip club. They felt like inmates walking to their doom. They knew something was wrong, they felt manipulated and there was nothing they could do about it.
"Well Alex, think you can teach us how to strip for tonight?" Kyle asked, he was actually liking the idea. He was pretty sure that this would be fun, though he'd never admit it. Plus, Tess would love the story when he got back.
"No, best advice, make sure there isn't a mother there. Other than that, beats me." Alex still had nightmares about being caught almost with his pants down. A minute more and he'd have been in a thong with a big blush.
"At least there is no one in town who knows us, we're just passing through. And Max here will doctor our ID's so we can do it. And if anyone tells Maria I did this, I will personally kill you. So, let's prepare ourselves for the audition. Max, you have to teach me how to shake your man boobs." Michael purposely stepped behind Alex to avoid anything Max could do.
"This never happened, we aren't here now, we won't be here later and this never happened. Anyone says different I swear I will make you a mime in a green box." Max knew already something bad was going to happen.
The author laughed. Duh.