For the life of me, I don’t understand what is so hard about getting me knives or ordnance. — LC Aggie Sith

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A Story For The Glorious Lemur King

Posted by LC Aggie Sith on Monday, October 25, 2010 in Teh Funny, Total Bullshit

Our friend The Glorious Lemur King has had a relapse and is unable to finish writing his awesome Truck/ Michigan/ Silver D’Cat story. We all wish him a speedy recovery. His condition is extremely painful, and we can only hope and pray he has better luck defeating that monster this time around.

Anyway, as I began to write, LK (as he is known around these parts) is unable to finish his adventurous tale of mayhem, mystery, and madness involving a cat, a truck, a state, and in between, drugs. All perfectly legal, seriously. So, it is up to us, his loyal readers, to extrapolate a plausible ending to the second part of his story. His last paragraph:

We laughed and read The Onion that night at the hotel and skritched our sulky kitty until it was time to turn out the lights.  There was a big day ahead of us, and we had no idea how ill-prepared we were for the adrenaline-pumping experiences that were to come.

And so, without further ado, I present to you, loyal reader, my version of the story…..

We arose the following morning well rested. Our kitty was no longer sulky. However, he was a bit lethargic. Cruel Wife could not understand why. When she asked me, I murmured something non-committal. I did not think the allergy pill would cause Silver D’Cat to become listless, and I wasn’t going to confess to my folly, only to find myself riding in back of the truck under my tools. He was on his own.

We drove out of Madison towards the great state of Michigan. I say “great” because I had never seen Detroit up close and personal. This will be the only time I shall refer to this state in such a manner. My nose was beginning to act up, so we pulled over for a quick break while I took my medication. Stretched our legs, scratched kitty behind the ears (while checking for a pulse), took my meds, and we were off again. About five minutes later I began to feel pretty dreamy. And by “dreamy” I mean “floating on a cloud of hooters”. And by “hooters” I mean “bodacious ta tas”. It was a very weird feeling, and I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so odd. I fumbled around for the bottle in my pocket, and pulled it out, only to find the cat’s pills. OMFG!!!!! What the freakin’ HELL was I supposed to do now?? Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t freakin’ panic!!! Cruel Wife was looking out the window enjoying the pleasant drive, and kitty was now snoring, so I knew he was alive. But would I live??

At this point in the drive, Cruel Wife turns to tell me something, but the words die on her lips. She keeps looking at me, until finally I ask her, “What??” She opens her mouth, only to close it, like a fish, over and over, until finally she squeaks, “Are you supposed to be sweating in orange??” My hands grip the wheel tighter in an effort to be normal, and I manage a grim laugh like a circus toy and say, “Sure, if you take the cat’s pills by mistake.” The look on her face froze the orange sweat on my neck. It curled the hair on my nape before searing it. That whole “fire and ice” thing is true. True to her mothering instincts, she wanted to wallop my hide, but since I was behind the wheel, she decided on a different course of action.

“Here. Drink this, and hurry!” She handed me a can of Red Bull. I was a bit hesitant, not knowing how Red Bull would interact with the cat pills, but it was either deal with the pills, or the wife. The wife won.

Rule #1: The wife always wins.

I drank that can, only to be handed yet another can. She did this to make me want to go, if you get my drift. The logic here was, the more I went, the more of the drug I disposed. It was a good plan…. sort of. We all know drugs have to go through your entire system first. But we were past logic, and by we I meant her. I drank four cans of Red Bull before I started to need to go.  And when I started to need to go, we noticed something: no rest areas for miles. I was sooooo screwed. Where was I going to be able to relieve myself??? Now, damnit NOW!!! Cruel Wife kept trying to distract me by talking about the beautiful scenery, full of lakes. By this time my sweat was turning yellow, and I was desperate. Suddenly, Cruel Wife began to wave excitedly towards an off ramp. A rest area!! FINALLY!! I drove in careful not to run into anything, and parked (on the curb, but some of the truck was still on the asphalt), and ran in, not bothering to turn off the truck. Oh, the relief!!! Sighing contentedly, I turn to the sink to wash my hands, only to find a most unusual sight: there is a support pole between the commodes and the urinals, and there was now a stripper attached to it. That in itself was odd enough. But she was also a zombie. How could I tell? How does anyone tell? All I know is there was a zombie stripper in the bathroom now.

I backed away slowly, since I wanted to keep my brain, and went out to the lobby of the rest area. Cruel Wife was there waiting on me. One look at me and she knew there was something wrong. “What happened?” she asked. Here was my choice: tell her what I saw, or tell her something else. ANYTHING else. Being the smart man I am, I went with the obvious. “There was a zombie stripper in the bathroom,” I said. To give her credit, she didn’t even bat an eye. She went to the bathroom, knocked, and then stepped in. She came back, looking very worried, and said, “No stripper, zombie or otherwise, Lemur.” At this point I knew the combination of Red Bull and cat pills was making me hallucinate. WHOO HOO!! I don’t get to drive now!! I started to do the happy dance, but that was short-lived, catching a look from my now worried wife. I told her I could drive if she needed me to, but she had the keys, and was not going to let me behind the wheel. Cool! I get to look at the scenery now! I also get to take care of kitty and keep him happy. Lucky for him, I still had my happy pills.

And off we went, towards our final destination. The beautiful scenery was only enhanced by the miriad battle between the Jedis and the Stormtroopers as Emperor Liberace played his piano while waiting for stone tables atop Mt. Fuji. It was glorious. Maybe next time I will regale you with the tale of my happy ass waking up on a beach half naked with no idea how I got there.


Bring on the comments

  1. Mitchell says:

    Awesome!! But with one slight flaw -- men have no problem with stopping a car and sharing our bladder bounty with the local scenery if there’s nothing else around. ;-)

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  2. Lemur King says:

    So true, Mitchell. Scenery, other motorists, ants… whatever. Why? Because we can, that’s why. We can write our names in the snow, dammit, and that is a fine thing to be able to do. Just fine.

    Red Bull came to America roughly one year after this time, otherwise your story would be so close to the truth as to be unbearable.

    Zombie strippers is a nice touch. I would have gone with chainsaw hookers but I think zombie strippers are much better. Imagine the calls to “take it all off”, huh?

    Rats, now I gotta tell the rest of the story in a really interesting way or I’m doomed. Making me work like a horse here.

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  3. While I realize men have no trouble relieving themselves in front of God and country, y’all are forgetting one very important fact:

    Cruel Wife was present.

    And if you think LK would have done that with CW right there while in their throes of a new marriage, I think you are sadly mistaken :)

  4. Lemur King says:

    Methinks two things… (1) That you give me far more credit than is due for being a gentleman, and (2) Cruel Wife has seen me do far far worse. Not far far far worse, but far far worse, indeed. (3) I’m an asshole.

    Really really. Just ask Cruel Wife.

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  5. Yes, yes, LK…we all know that. But this was at the start of your life together. She was still deluded :D

  6. clintbird says:

    *Leaves family size can of Spam and Alfred Einstein biography for blog.*

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  7. cmblake6 says:

    Prayers LK, sending out prayers.

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