by BT in space #21

The absolute GREATEST thing happened last month. I got a job! Now, it ain't a actual PAYING gig or nothing like that, but I got to break out my blowtorch and Rudy got to break out his Skilsaw. We both got to tweek all kinds of shit together. Unfortunately, Rudy got hauled off by the cops before we was done, 'cause his part of the job supposedly polluted something.

Eddie, the guy we used to buy our crank from before his camper exploded, said he needed the catapult at the duckpond disassembled. He wanted to haul it to the market up the road and put it back together. I offered to help, because there ain't nothing on the planet happier than a speedfreak taking something humongous apart, except maybe a speedfreak blowtorching something together. I got to do both.

Me and Rudy smoked up Rudy's pocket stash for motivation. The next thing you know, sawdust and sparks was flying everywhere. Shit was getting done. Then the cops showed up and fucked up our good time. I seen it! I was right there when it all went down.

This one big cop walks up to Rudy and says, "Are you Rudy Bonaparte?" Rudy says, "Who wants to know?" I have no idea why that answer always pisses off the cops, but it does. It's pissed off every cop I ever said it to, anyways.

According to the cops, Rudy was polluting the sound barrier, or something like that with his Skilsaw. The cops screamed and screamed into Rudy's ears to SHUT THAT MOTHERFUCKER OFF RIGHT NOW. Rudy was in the middle of Skilsawing up all that lumber and couldn't hear nothing.

Finally, when a cop tapped Rudy on the shoulder, he about jumped out of his skin. Since he was so jumpy, the cops decided to check him for signs and symptoms of being under the influence of a controlled substance.

The cops told Rudy to close his eyes. Rudy's eyelids was all spastic. He couldn't keep his eyes shut for more than a half-second at a stretch. Rudy was told to estimate when 30 seconds had passed. Five seconds later, Rudy blurted, "Now!" The cops stretched Rudy's eyelids open real wide and shined a flashlight right into his speed-blown pupils. One of the cops grabbed Rudy by the wrist to take his pulse. Rudy's heart was jackhammering away at 140 beats per minute. Finally, the cops made Rudy stick out his tongue. It was all white and pasty and dry and cracked.

Based on them signs and symptoms, the cops formed the opinion that Rudy was tweeking his fucking brains out. They was right. He was. The cops asked Rudy if they could search him. He refused.

The cops then radioed a request for a search warrant to include Rudy's clothing, his trailer, and his body cavity. Rudy then let the cops rummage through his pockets to avoid having that search warrant issued. He wasn't so concerned about having his clothes and trailer searched as he was about having a body cavity search. That warrant would have been a license to crawl up Rudy's ass with a flashlight. His ass had just barely healed up from when Virginia Beadle shot it all full of steel ball bearings fired from her wrist rocket.

Upon searching Rudy's pockets, the cops found Rudy's meth pipe and baggie of shit. Rudy turned tail and ran. All them cops chased him like a wolfpack running down a bunny rabbit. In less time than it took for him to estimate when 30 seconds had elapsed, the cops had Rudy securely hogtied on the ground.

Rudy laid there in the dirt all covered in chains and shackles and cuffs and whatnot. The cops picked him up and hauled him to one of the cruisers, where he was shoved, screaming and squirming, into the cage. Rudy was hollering at them cops about how he was going to kick all their asses as soon as he escaped them shackles.

It is kind of a bummer that Rudy's rotting in a jail cell with no access to his Skilsaw. But I get to tweek all that circus catapult shit together with my blowtorch. So hey, it's all good.

HOME