Reel Idiots Stories @StoryIdiots

Daddy just can’t keep his hands off the bottle these days. Man FUCK these days! Why in the hell do I keep saying “these days”? Feels like I got the damn devil of song stuff in my head but this demon won’t get out of my brain these days. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING MYSELF?!?!

Good god I just can’t catch a break these days. I wish I could go back to the high school days. I was really on top of it man. I was the lead singer in a ska band called, “Seductive Reasoning”. The girls couldn’t keep their hands off me! Also I still had a bunch of friends.

"That's not how-" WACK! "That's not how you're suppo-" WACK! WACKWACK! "That's not how you're supposed to use those things," I was finally able to blurt out between whackings. "Move along." I moved to stand, grabbing my satchel. WACK! "Fuck outta here," he barked. I shuffled off.

I told the cop I wasn’t sleeping I was doing yoga. He didn’t find that as humorous as I did. That was blatantly obvious as he whipped out his taser. “What are you gonna do with that thing?”, I asked. WACK! He answered me by smacking me across the face with it.

No pants, no smokes, lost in the forest... I may as well sit here in the muck and get you caught up on my story so far. The events that brought me here began yesterday morning. I was swatted awake at the buttcrack of dawn by some pig who didn't want me sleeping on the park bench.

Now I know you’re asking, how did I end up lost in this forest? Well shit, I’m asking myself the same damn thing right about now. First thing first though where in the fuck are my pants! My smokes were in them pants. God dammit, my cell phone!

But piping hot or not, I tucked in a napkin and dove in. Like a good boy. So here I am, knee-deep in creek mud and lost in the forest. But let me rewind. My name's Crush. Crush McPibble. Yeah, dumb, I know. But it's whatever. Whatever. I'm a wanderer. Or more commonly, a drifter.

Everyone will be screwed over in one way or another. It just depends on how you let it consume you. What ever heaping sloppy mess of shit is served to you, just tuck in you napkin and dive in! That’s what I’ve always been told. I just didnt expect it to be served up pipping hot!

NEW STORY BEGINS NOW!

I sighed. "I'm not gay, Mark. Or at least I don't think so. I'm just exploring my options. Besides, didn't you once--" The food arrived, stopping what was likely to be a shout fest.

This time Mark chuckled at the sight of Reggie getting his taint fried by my taser. I took that as a sign that maybe we could turn this road trip around. “So when the fuck did you get into this wacky sex slave shit? Also when did you turn gay?”, Mark spouted. Maybe I was wrong.

I could tell Reggie liked the sound of being called 'soul mate.' I decided to take him down a peg. I looked at him and smiled. "Reggie. Reggie. Reggie." ZAP ZAP ZAP under the table.

You know what, this is bullshit. “Can’t we just turn the page and have a decent time together?” I’m here with my soul mate/sex slave Reginald and one of my best friends. This is suppose to be us making memories on the way to our fucking reunion”, I pleaded.

"Yeah, I work in the industry of go-kart racing and we wouldn't let a drunk like you drive one." Mark raised his eyebrows in shock, asking, "What are you even talking about?!" Reggie whimpered.

I asked Mark what the fuck is wrong with him while tucking a napkin in Reggie’s neckband. Mark was seething “Me!?!?” “Yea, you, you have what we call in the industry, a disgusting drinking problem.” I replied. Mark seemed at a loss, “the industry? You work at a go-cart track.”

She turned back to Mark. "So we don't serve Miller Lite or wheatgrass, unfortunately. What can I get you instead?" Mark flipped the menu over several times as if a beer list might suddenly appear. "I'll just have a Diet Coke," he answered with a sigh. "Coming right up!" She left.

"Sasha mil", Reggie moaned. Seemingly confused, Julie asked, "I'm sorry did you say Sasha Mil?" I jumped it, "chocolate milk is what he means. Sorry he's a bit of a joke." Reggie slumped his head. I knew I hurt his feelings. "Julie can you put extra Sasha in that milk?" I winked.

"C'mon. They don't have wheatgrass either," I said to Mark. I turned to Julie. "Sorry about him. I'll have iced tea, please." She turned hesitantly to Reggie. "And for you?" Reggie looked at me. "Answer her, Reggie." There was an electric zap from under the table. Reggie yipped.

"A Miller Light please?" Mark asked. Julie let that dip shit know that The Cracker Barrel doesn't serve alcohol and if she could get him something else. Mark became infuriated. "Well how about a shot of wheat grass!" he yelled. As if the whole restaurant wasn't already staring.

Before he could reply, Mark stepped up. "Let's go. Our table's ready." We were lead to our seats and handed laminated menus. A waitress appeared. "I'm Julie. What can I get you to drink?"