Brad slammed itself into gear and sped off, spinning his wheels spraying the cop and his car with gravel. I think the cop was tired of brad and his ****, and decided not to pursue us.
We were about 12 miles from the exit to W town, when Brad spotted the a truck stop, and decided he needed gas. He also thought that maybe I needed a hooker.
I told brad that I didn't need a sleazy hooker, and that he had a quarter tank of gas, and would be fine until next week when I had a little more money.
Brad went, Ping, I need some gas, I'm thirsty! I told him let's just go home, we'll deal with it later.
Brad took the exit to the truck stop anyway.
He pulled up to a gas pump, and shut himself off.
I told him again that I didn't have any money.
He went, Ping, you still have $50 dollars on your card that ends with 6428.
I told him I needed that money for beer.
He said, How does it feel to be thirsty?
I got out of the car, and ran my card at the gas pump. After being approved, I lifted the handle and pressed 87 octane.
I heard, Ping, I want 92 octane, Ping.
I told Brad to ********, he was getting 87, and that was that.
Immediately the roof started coming back up, latched in place and the doors locked. I said Brad, are you kidding me? He said no, and the lights and horn started flashing and beeping as he went into a temper tantrum.
As I went to put the nozzle into the gas tank, the door snapped shut, and heavy metal death punk rap started blaring from the car.
The noise was deafening, and the other patrons filling up were staring at me and Brad. One lady said she was going to call 911. I pleaded with her not to, while trying to explain that if she did, my car would get me into trouble because he seems to hate me and highway patrolmen.
I cancelled the sale, and ran my card again, this time selecting the 92 octane.
The horn immediately stopped, the lights quit flashing, and the doors unlocked. When the gas pump read $5 bucks, I let go of the handle.
The roof suddenly started to go back up, so I squeezed the handle again, and the roof lowered.
When the pump finally read $39 dollars and clicked off, the car started up.
It was then I started to cry, realizing I only had $10 bucks to spend on beer for the rest of the week.
I lowered my head, walked into the convenience store, and bought a 30 pack of Milwaukee's best.
I get back to the car, climb in, and brad still thinks I should take advantage of a hooker, since we're still in a truck stop.
He begins driving around all the parked trucks with his outboard megaphone screaming, here hooker hooker, come here hooker hooker!
I'm laying in the back seat embarrassed as hell, and I can't get him to stop.
I've just spent all my money on gas and cheap beer because of him, and I have no idea how he even thinks I can afford a prostitute, let alone want one, but he thinks it will make me feel better after the rough day I've had.
Now brad looks like a cross between a Delorean, a Porsch 911, and a smart car, with all of the power of a dragster, although he’ll rarely open it up due to energy use concerns.
Heads are turning, and windows are rolling down as this stupid car refuses to take me home, and keeps driving around the lot, beeping his horn, and yelling, here hooker, hooker!
After about an hour and a half of this crap, I convince him that it's too early in the day, and the hookers won't be out for hours until after the sun sets, and it's dark.
I just saved myself whatever it costs for 5 minutes with a hooker.
We get back on I 40, after I vomit in the parking lot after drinking a 12oz Milwaukee's best.
I remind brad to take the exit for W town down Hwy 42.
Brad tells me to shut up and take a nap. Bing!
I begin to fall asleep feeling nauseous from the warm beer, when suddenly we slow down. Were now in the two lane with one of those hamster driving scion's or Kia's in front of us. I tell Brad, hey Brad, Ping, what? ping, get around this guy, let's go!
Brad says we will be home in just about the same time without passing him.
I kick the driver's seat right in the back, and say, Let's move it!!!
Being as Brad is sensitive to such statements, he put's his foot computer into it, and darn near plows himself into the green hamster mobile.
He follows it, and follows it, never gaining the guts to go around, until we reach a no passing zone, then he decides to go for it.
All of a sudden we're faced head on with a big Kenworth bearing down on us head on, loaded with enough iron to build an Alaskan pipeline.
I tell Brad, hey Brad, Ping, what?, ping. Put your stupid foot into it!
And surprisingly he does. As 1000 bajillion horsepower kicks in, the wheels squeal like a hundred raging banshees, and a massive cloud of smoke arises behind us.
Just as we pass the hamster dumpster, and I'm flipping off the driver from my back seat, Guess who's sitting there, right there, on the side of the road?
Officer Brad.
The lights and siren immediately spark up as the officer Brad peels from the shoulder.
Brad notices the cop, and says, Ping, Watch this!
I cover my eyes and reach for a warm beer knowing it’s probably gonna be my last for a good long while.
Brad went all smokey and the bandit. He slammed on his brakes, and did one of those tire smoking, still moving U-turns.
As we pass the cop car going in the opposite direction, Brad honks his horn, flashes his lights, and takes a picture of officer Brad with his jaw dropped in his lap.
I yell at Brad, what the hell are you doing?
Brad admitted that he thought he had a processor going bad, but there was noting he could do about it, and to just hold on.
I quickly opened another beer, and regretted topping off the tank.
My car had gone Rogue.
I began to wonder who was going to jail, me or Brad, and would they really get 12 of Brad’s peers together for the trail? I almost smiled as I thought of Brad being executed, then realized I’d be out a car.
I told Brad there was a dirt road up ahead and to take it.
We got to the road, he again slammed on the brakes and took a sharp right. We Immediately bounced across a cattle guard and I spilled my beer. Brad giggled and spun the tires.
We sped down the road nearly missing a half dozen heads of cattle but hit a four foot rattler.
Brad, using google earth spots an abandoned rickety old barn, and headed for it. It was at that same time I learned of google’s new addition to society.
Google chopper.
We pulled into the barn, and Brad shut off. We could hear the google chopper above us, and officer Brad speeding up the road.
I got out of the car to catch my breath, and lit up a cigarette.
My hands were shaking like a drunk first thing in the morning and my heart was racing.
I asked Brad, what are we gonna do?
He asked, ping, what’s this we crap??? You’re screwed!
The car started back up, and Brad told me to get in.
Little did Brad know that when I climbed out of the car, I also managed to quickly grab my .44 magnum from under the seat.
Brad exclaimed, holy banoonies, are you gonna shoot that cop?
I said no Brad, and stepped in front of him.
It was right about then Brad realized what was about to happen.
Brad freaked.
The doors locked, and the roof began going up and down.
Brad started slamming the trunk open and closed.
I looked Brad right in the headlights as he suddenly began to flash them and blow his horn.
As I leveled the gun right between his eyes, he hit the hydraulics, and began jumping up and down.
After about 10 jumps I had locked into his timing. Just as he was coming down from a high jump, I cocked the pistol, pulled the trigger and sent a searing hot slug through Brads radiator, and deep into the engine.
Brad screamed as the engine locked up.
There was anti-freeze spewing from the radiator, and a puddle of oil developing on the ground.
The trunk stopped slamming, the car quit hopping, and the roof sighed and collapsed back into its rear compartment.
I heard the scuff of tires skidding to a stop on the dirt.
I laughed, and laughed and laughed like a deranged retard.
So did officer Brad.
He laughed and laughed too, as he walked towards me.
Both of us still laughing, I put my hand on his shoulder.
He quickly reached up and clasped a handcuff on my wrist.
The good news is I’ll be out of jail in about 6 months.
The bad news is I’ll still owe google $63,000 for their car.
They said they couldn’t find anything wrong with it.
We were about 12 miles from the exit to W town, when Brad spotted the a truck stop, and decided he needed gas. He also thought that maybe I needed a hooker.
I told brad that I didn't need a sleazy hooker, and that he had a quarter tank of gas, and would be fine until next week when I had a little more money.
Brad went, Ping, I need some gas, I'm thirsty! I told him let's just go home, we'll deal with it later.
Brad took the exit to the truck stop anyway.
He pulled up to a gas pump, and shut himself off.
I told him again that I didn't have any money.
He went, Ping, you still have $50 dollars on your card that ends with 6428.
I told him I needed that money for beer.
He said, How does it feel to be thirsty?
I got out of the car, and ran my card at the gas pump. After being approved, I lifted the handle and pressed 87 octane.
I heard, Ping, I want 92 octane, Ping.
I told Brad to ********, he was getting 87, and that was that.
Immediately the roof started coming back up, latched in place and the doors locked. I said Brad, are you kidding me? He said no, and the lights and horn started flashing and beeping as he went into a temper tantrum.
As I went to put the nozzle into the gas tank, the door snapped shut, and heavy metal death punk rap started blaring from the car.
The noise was deafening, and the other patrons filling up were staring at me and Brad. One lady said she was going to call 911. I pleaded with her not to, while trying to explain that if she did, my car would get me into trouble because he seems to hate me and highway patrolmen.
I cancelled the sale, and ran my card again, this time selecting the 92 octane.
The horn immediately stopped, the lights quit flashing, and the doors unlocked. When the gas pump read $5 bucks, I let go of the handle.
The roof suddenly started to go back up, so I squeezed the handle again, and the roof lowered.
When the pump finally read $39 dollars and clicked off, the car started up.
It was then I started to cry, realizing I only had $10 bucks to spend on beer for the rest of the week.
I lowered my head, walked into the convenience store, and bought a 30 pack of Milwaukee's best.
I get back to the car, climb in, and brad still thinks I should take advantage of a hooker, since we're still in a truck stop.
He begins driving around all the parked trucks with his outboard megaphone screaming, here hooker hooker, come here hooker hooker!
I'm laying in the back seat embarrassed as hell, and I can't get him to stop.
I've just spent all my money on gas and cheap beer because of him, and I have no idea how he even thinks I can afford a prostitute, let alone want one, but he thinks it will make me feel better after the rough day I've had.
Now brad looks like a cross between a Delorean, a Porsch 911, and a smart car, with all of the power of a dragster, although he’ll rarely open it up due to energy use concerns.
Heads are turning, and windows are rolling down as this stupid car refuses to take me home, and keeps driving around the lot, beeping his horn, and yelling, here hooker, hooker!
After about an hour and a half of this crap, I convince him that it's too early in the day, and the hookers won't be out for hours until after the sun sets, and it's dark.
I just saved myself whatever it costs for 5 minutes with a hooker.
We get back on I 40, after I vomit in the parking lot after drinking a 12oz Milwaukee's best.
I remind brad to take the exit for W town down Hwy 42.
Brad tells me to shut up and take a nap. Bing!
I begin to fall asleep feeling nauseous from the warm beer, when suddenly we slow down. Were now in the two lane with one of those hamster driving scion's or Kia's in front of us. I tell Brad, hey Brad, Ping, what? ping, get around this guy, let's go!
Brad says we will be home in just about the same time without passing him.
I kick the driver's seat right in the back, and say, Let's move it!!!
Being as Brad is sensitive to such statements, he put's his foot computer into it, and darn near plows himself into the green hamster mobile.
He follows it, and follows it, never gaining the guts to go around, until we reach a no passing zone, then he decides to go for it.
All of a sudden we're faced head on with a big Kenworth bearing down on us head on, loaded with enough iron to build an Alaskan pipeline.
I tell Brad, hey Brad, Ping, what?, ping. Put your stupid foot into it!
And surprisingly he does. As 1000 bajillion horsepower kicks in, the wheels squeal like a hundred raging banshees, and a massive cloud of smoke arises behind us.
Just as we pass the hamster dumpster, and I'm flipping off the driver from my back seat, Guess who's sitting there, right there, on the side of the road?
Officer Brad.
The lights and siren immediately spark up as the officer Brad peels from the shoulder.
Brad notices the cop, and says, Ping, Watch this!
I cover my eyes and reach for a warm beer knowing it’s probably gonna be my last for a good long while.
Brad went all smokey and the bandit. He slammed on his brakes, and did one of those tire smoking, still moving U-turns.
As we pass the cop car going in the opposite direction, Brad honks his horn, flashes his lights, and takes a picture of officer Brad with his jaw dropped in his lap.
I yell at Brad, what the hell are you doing?
Brad admitted that he thought he had a processor going bad, but there was noting he could do about it, and to just hold on.
I quickly opened another beer, and regretted topping off the tank.
My car had gone Rogue.
I began to wonder who was going to jail, me or Brad, and would they really get 12 of Brad’s peers together for the trail? I almost smiled as I thought of Brad being executed, then realized I’d be out a car.
I told Brad there was a dirt road up ahead and to take it.
We got to the road, he again slammed on the brakes and took a sharp right. We Immediately bounced across a cattle guard and I spilled my beer. Brad giggled and spun the tires.
We sped down the road nearly missing a half dozen heads of cattle but hit a four foot rattler.
Brad, using google earth spots an abandoned rickety old barn, and headed for it. It was at that same time I learned of google’s new addition to society.
Google chopper.
We pulled into the barn, and Brad shut off. We could hear the google chopper above us, and officer Brad speeding up the road.
I got out of the car to catch my breath, and lit up a cigarette.
My hands were shaking like a drunk first thing in the morning and my heart was racing.
I asked Brad, what are we gonna do?
He asked, ping, what’s this we crap??? You’re screwed!
The car started back up, and Brad told me to get in.
Little did Brad know that when I climbed out of the car, I also managed to quickly grab my .44 magnum from under the seat.
Brad exclaimed, holy banoonies, are you gonna shoot that cop?
I said no Brad, and stepped in front of him.
It was right about then Brad realized what was about to happen.
Brad freaked.
The doors locked, and the roof began going up and down.
Brad started slamming the trunk open and closed.
I looked Brad right in the headlights as he suddenly began to flash them and blow his horn.
As I leveled the gun right between his eyes, he hit the hydraulics, and began jumping up and down.
After about 10 jumps I had locked into his timing. Just as he was coming down from a high jump, I cocked the pistol, pulled the trigger and sent a searing hot slug through Brads radiator, and deep into the engine.
Brad screamed as the engine locked up.
There was anti-freeze spewing from the radiator, and a puddle of oil developing on the ground.
The trunk stopped slamming, the car quit hopping, and the roof sighed and collapsed back into its rear compartment.
I heard the scuff of tires skidding to a stop on the dirt.
I laughed, and laughed and laughed like a deranged retard.
So did officer Brad.
He laughed and laughed too, as he walked towards me.
Both of us still laughing, I put my hand on his shoulder.
He quickly reached up and clasped a handcuff on my wrist.
The good news is I’ll be out of jail in about 6 months.
The bad news is I’ll still owe google $63,000 for their car.
They said they couldn’t find anything wrong with it.
Last edited:
