A Po-Boy's Tale of Nawlins Suitcase's Wrath Chapter 4
Suitcase's Wrath (As told by Rusty Folsom)
Thursday 10:30 P.M.
The night started off normal enough. Drinking, smoking, harassing, that’s how I fucking roll these days. But Scraps, there was something missing in his head tonight. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever had a friend you’ve known your whole life, you know his ins his outs, his fucking next step. And then, have you ever seen this friend so fucked up that everything he does confuses you. That’s Scraps, tonight. He has this new job, working landscaping, and I really think it’s getting to him. The objective for the night was to get drunk, and drunk is exactly what Scraps was.
We met this dude at the bar, Suitcase. First of all, who the fuck has a name like Suitcase. (Only the drunk fucks that Scraps talks to at the bar, Suitcase apparently got his name because he has no home and carries everything he owns with him) Suitcase stands about 6 foot 7, weighs in at about 350. Dude has curly ass red hair, is sporting jeans he probably picked up in a dumpster, a t shirt supporting America (God Bless it) and will not shut the fuck up about his dirtbike. Scraps is blown away by this guy. Never in his short existence has anything fascinated Scraps quite like Suitcase. Suitcase talks about organic food, festivals, dirtbiking, nascar, his children?, selling weed, and cocaine. Scraps nods his head and every two minutes after a rambling rant about how Suitcase almost died running over two ladies while riding his dirtbike across a field he says ‘awesome’. I hardly believe what I’m seeing.
“So there I was, in Chambersburg Pennsylvania, riding my dirtbike away from two asshole cops trying to tell me I was under arrest for the two pounds of pot in my backpack, fuck that! I drove straight into a fucking lake. That was the end of my bike, but me, I kept on swimming.”
“awesome, lets do another shot,”
And so we did. It was a shot of ‘surfer on acid’, Scraps favorite shot, and it hit us hard. After this shot I am pretty sure Scraps blacked out.
“This one time, I was down the shore and I was drinking a little bit, not too much, but enough. I had like three beers (chugging his beer), anyway we wanted to play cards. But, problem was that we had no cards. So, what I did was, I drove to a nearby wawa.”
“WaWa, what the fuck is that?” Suitcase asks Scraps.
“It’s like Sheetz, but better,”
I had to interrupt here. Wawa is not better than Sheetz.
“Anyway, so I’m driving out of Wawa, and I’m a little blazed. I’m going straight at a stop sign, when the car in front of me has there blinker on going right. They make there turn, and I follow, but in the middle of their fucking turn, this fucking Lexus, just stops, and I nail the fucker. I don’t know what to do. Here I am, drunk as fucking Elvis on Christmas and I hit this bitch in a Lexus. I’m confused. I don’t want the DUI, and I’m sober enough to get the fuck out of this. I floor it past the Lexus. Make a quick left, another quick right, a quick left, down the alley and then park my car inside the garage of my friend’s place that I am staying at. Scared shitless, I hide in the bathroom all night hoping that the cops don’t come.”
“damn, did they ever find you?”
“No man, I drove all the way back to Pittsburgh with half my car smashed,”
They both laugh and continue to drink. It is about now when Scraps starts acting crazy. There are three girls sitting to our right and Scraps asks them if they want to play rock, paper, scissors. Actually, these are not girls, they are women. And they are larger then life if you know what I am saying. Scraps and this one portly beauty go at it (rock/paper/scissors of course) for about ten minutes. This game is intense, and when Scraps throws his rock and Lucy Lasagna Lover answers with her paper, Scraps gets so angry he smashes his glass on the bar, hitting a dude in the face with its remains. This starts a brawl. Lucky for Scraps, he made friends with Suitcase. This dude can fight.
First the guy with the bloody face from Scraps bottle gets up and tries to punch Scraps, Scraps dodges the punch, but is pummeled by another guy from behind. The two start punching and kicking Scraps while he is on the ground when Suitcase arrives. He grabs the bloody faced dude by his shirt and just throws him down on the ground. He then picks him back up, helping him to his feet, and then with two fists he smashes his temples from both sides. The guys eyes close and he falls to the ground. Suitcase smiles. The other guy, the friend of the guy that Suitcase probably just killed, is terrified. He starts to run but Suitcase is too quick. He grabs the guy by the hair and smashes the guy’s head on his own knee. But, I don’t quite know how to describe this to give it enough gory detail. I mean, this was a fucking vicious blow. The guy did not move after it. He was on the ground, the bar was fucking silent, and Suitcase looked like a retarded Andre the Giant laughing at all who dared to question his actions. Scraps, gave Suitcase a high-five, and the rest is history.
Thursday 10:30 P.M.
The night started off normal enough. Drinking, smoking, harassing, that’s how I fucking roll these days. But Scraps, there was something missing in his head tonight. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever had a friend you’ve known your whole life, you know his ins his outs, his fucking next step. And then, have you ever seen this friend so fucked up that everything he does confuses you. That’s Scraps, tonight. He has this new job, working landscaping, and I really think it’s getting to him. The objective for the night was to get drunk, and drunk is exactly what Scraps was.
We met this dude at the bar, Suitcase. First of all, who the fuck has a name like Suitcase. (Only the drunk fucks that Scraps talks to at the bar, Suitcase apparently got his name because he has no home and carries everything he owns with him) Suitcase stands about 6 foot 7, weighs in at about 350. Dude has curly ass red hair, is sporting jeans he probably picked up in a dumpster, a t shirt supporting America (God Bless it) and will not shut the fuck up about his dirtbike. Scraps is blown away by this guy. Never in his short existence has anything fascinated Scraps quite like Suitcase. Suitcase talks about organic food, festivals, dirtbiking, nascar, his children?, selling weed, and cocaine. Scraps nods his head and every two minutes after a rambling rant about how Suitcase almost died running over two ladies while riding his dirtbike across a field he says ‘awesome’. I hardly believe what I’m seeing.
“So there I was, in Chambersburg Pennsylvania, riding my dirtbike away from two asshole cops trying to tell me I was under arrest for the two pounds of pot in my backpack, fuck that! I drove straight into a fucking lake. That was the end of my bike, but me, I kept on swimming.”
“awesome, lets do another shot,”
And so we did. It was a shot of ‘surfer on acid’, Scraps favorite shot, and it hit us hard. After this shot I am pretty sure Scraps blacked out.
“This one time, I was down the shore and I was drinking a little bit, not too much, but enough. I had like three beers (chugging his beer), anyway we wanted to play cards. But, problem was that we had no cards. So, what I did was, I drove to a nearby wawa.”
“WaWa, what the fuck is that?” Suitcase asks Scraps.
“It’s like Sheetz, but better,”
I had to interrupt here. Wawa is not better than Sheetz.
“Anyway, so I’m driving out of Wawa, and I’m a little blazed. I’m going straight at a stop sign, when the car in front of me has there blinker on going right. They make there turn, and I follow, but in the middle of their fucking turn, this fucking Lexus, just stops, and I nail the fucker. I don’t know what to do. Here I am, drunk as fucking Elvis on Christmas and I hit this bitch in a Lexus. I’m confused. I don’t want the DUI, and I’m sober enough to get the fuck out of this. I floor it past the Lexus. Make a quick left, another quick right, a quick left, down the alley and then park my car inside the garage of my friend’s place that I am staying at. Scared shitless, I hide in the bathroom all night hoping that the cops don’t come.”
“damn, did they ever find you?”
“No man, I drove all the way back to Pittsburgh with half my car smashed,”
They both laugh and continue to drink. It is about now when Scraps starts acting crazy. There are three girls sitting to our right and Scraps asks them if they want to play rock, paper, scissors. Actually, these are not girls, they are women. And they are larger then life if you know what I am saying. Scraps and this one portly beauty go at it (rock/paper/scissors of course) for about ten minutes. This game is intense, and when Scraps throws his rock and Lucy Lasagna Lover answers with her paper, Scraps gets so angry he smashes his glass on the bar, hitting a dude in the face with its remains. This starts a brawl. Lucky for Scraps, he made friends with Suitcase. This dude can fight.
First the guy with the bloody face from Scraps bottle gets up and tries to punch Scraps, Scraps dodges the punch, but is pummeled by another guy from behind. The two start punching and kicking Scraps while he is on the ground when Suitcase arrives. He grabs the bloody faced dude by his shirt and just throws him down on the ground. He then picks him back up, helping him to his feet, and then with two fists he smashes his temples from both sides. The guys eyes close and he falls to the ground. Suitcase smiles. The other guy, the friend of the guy that Suitcase probably just killed, is terrified. He starts to run but Suitcase is too quick. He grabs the guy by the hair and smashes the guy’s head on his own knee. But, I don’t quite know how to describe this to give it enough gory detail. I mean, this was a fucking vicious blow. The guy did not move after it. He was on the ground, the bar was fucking silent, and Suitcase looked like a retarded Andre the Giant laughing at all who dared to question his actions. Scraps, gave Suitcase a high-five, and the rest is history.
posted by Frank Lee at 12:12 PM
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