Lurch's Vacation (part 2)

From: Rev. Lurch

This was typed pretty much without a break, and I don't give a shit If
it's fulla typos and plain old misspellings or not, but I'm sure it

Part II

Shortly after we purchased our tickets (from an the automated tin
bucket with a cardboard hula girl pasted to the front), the bus
rumbled up alongside the curb, the driver draped over the wheel like a
surly-looking ape none to happy with having to wear a pink
toilet-tissue lei around his neck, and hissed to a spewy, smoky
dieselly smelling stop a few feet in front of the concrete platform
where we stood. A decent-sized load of human junk (besides us) had
gathered. We had a nun (ordered from central casting, apparently out
of work since the last Irwin Allen movie), a bunch of female real
estate agents, resplendent in their horn-rimmed glasses,
bleached-blond Dolly Parton do's and red Kentucky Fried Chicken
looking pants suits, a sheet metal worker (said so on his hat) with
some kind of nervous disorder that caused him to imagine there were
badgers in his pants (said so on his shirt), a geeky looking white
knuckle case popping dramamine like M&Mís and sweating all over his
clip-on shirt, a great big fat woman (wearing a floral print boat
cover) with a rolykit, a pencil thin guy with a pencil thin mustache
and a bunch of dirty magazines, and crass buffoonish kind of guy with
with a hand-held pooting turtle and a foam rubber many gallon hat, and
of course, a four-eyed, obnoxius, know it all eigth-grader. There were
also a bunch of wierdos. "Well, looks like may be weíre in luck, "Unk
said. "I thought we might be the biggest assholes on this bus."
Anyway, no doubt out of admiration for our fancy costumes, everyone
got out of our way and allowed us to go to the front of the line.
"Jeesus" the bus driver said, admiring our blood and foliage
adornments "Whatís with you guys." "Looks Boss, donít it boss?" I
said. "Want us to do you up the same way?". "Is that a threat?" he
said. "We donít need no trouble where weíre going." "Thatís okay," I
said, "we can take care of all the trouble here. Hold still, close yer
eyes and Iíll pop you in the snoot while unk fetches some branches.
But they might look as crummy as his cause he don't know green from
dogshit." For some reason, he declined, and demanded we cut the crap
and fork over our tickets, which we did. "We werenít gonna charge you
for it, asshole," I said as we boarded the bus. "Too bad", I said.
"Some branches would have looked nice with that grass skirt he's
wearin." "You clowns sit in the back, okay?" he said. "As far back as
you can get." "You bet," I said. "Guess our little trick with the
poster worked," I said to my uncle when we got to our seats. He sent
us straight to the new no Ho section. This pen must be magic." "Magic
pen my ass," unk said, so I did. Real hard. "EEEARRCH!" he said. "It
better be a magic pen," I said, "a regular one wouldnít work all bent
up and covered with blood, and Iím gonna be needing this." The Unk hit
me in on top of the head with a sock with a couple rolls of pennies in
it, and I went to sleep for a while.

When I woke up, we were already underway, and Iíd developed quite an
appetite. "So whereís the grub?" I said. "Sheeyit," unk said. "You
missed the frozen Dole with pork in the hole." "One lousy pineapple
ring with that lousy soap flavored sausage filling stuck on a popsicle
stick was all we got. One per person." "I thought it was all you could
eat,í I said. "It was, Unk said, "and then some." "Oh yeah, I said,
accusingly, then whereís mine?" "I hung it in your antlers," he said.
í I donít know what happened to it after that. Maybe it melted.."
ëLiar,í I said, and was just about to stick my sharpened rubber dog
biscuit up his nose and twist when this glob of syrupy shriveled fruit
and porky looking stuff fell off of my head and into my lap, and I
realized heíd been telling the truth. But I stuck the thing up his
nose anyway. NORF!, he snorted "That done it!!" "NORF done it!?" I
said, "Maybe, but I bet NARF put him up to it!, asswipe." Then I
twisted the biscuit and he belted me and I hit him and we growled and
punched each other until the fat lady behind us said "SHHH, the
entertainmentís about to start!." We stopped pounding on each other
long enough to look up at the little elevated bandstand at the front
of the bus, there was a small man with a small ukelele in Banana
Repugnant sack-shorts arranging himself in front of the microphone.
"Mukaluka Hoo-wah Hienie Ho," folks, he said, "which is Hawaiian for
"Ainít it great to ride in a stinky bus!" "Bullshit" I hollered, "I
heard that on Pee-Weeís playhouse." But he ignored us. "Shit," I said.
"Is that magic pen great or what. He canít fucking hear us." "Yeah,
well, we can still hear him." shoulda swiped the one with the pin-up
girl whose pants fall off. Now that was magic." "Shit!" I said, "you
is right. The ink must be in backwards. Take it out and put it back in
the other way." Dutifully, he took the pen apart and began sucking the
ink out of the cartridge. "You oxpecker," I said "youíll fall for
anything." "Fall for what?" He said. "I just like the taste of ink."
He finished up, now suitably blue-lipped, and let loose with a shitty,
wimpy, barfy little burp. "Not bad," he said, "But Iím still hungry. I
want some cookies." "And guess whoís got a shitload of them." "Who?"
I said. "The big broad accross the aisle." "Saw her rootiní through
that rolykit while you was pounding your ear. Fig newtons,
Choc-o-swirls, nutter butters...sheís got the lot." The NORF you
say.." I sayed. "No lie," he said. "Ask her for some," I said.
"Shit," he said, "takes more than a pitiful and polite bit of begging
to separate a blimp from her biscuits. Sit back and watch the master
at work. Iíll move as soon as the music starts." "Play 'Whipping Post"
I hollered to the singer. "Free Bird." But he couldnít hear me, and he
just fired up his canned bossa-hula rock in a hubcap rythmn machine
and started singing the old Puff-Puffa rice commercial. "BLeeeAGGH". I
said. "Newa Newa" yowled the entertainer man.

"Time to Lock and Load," unk said. "lock and load?" I said. "what the
fuck is that?" How can you load if it's locked, and what the fuck are
you locking anyway...."Shit, shut up," he said, "you sack of slug
trails. No time for it now...gotta move." So he honked a big gob into
his hands, slicked his hair back, straightened the ducttape and
rearranged his antlers a bit, and sidled over and took the seat next
to the cookie tub. "Howdy maam," he said, "Whatís a purebred-lookin
heffer like yourself doing riding with this rabble?" "Chomp, Chew....
Fukth eww" she said, then she rearranged herself and let loose with
loud and glurpy wrong-end music, causing the sheet metal worker, (who
was seated behind her) to have one of his siezures. He snorted and
slobbered and howled and banged his crotch with travel iron for a bit,
then opened the window and jumped out. "Good work," unk said, "more
for us." "And I really go fer a woman thatís not afraid to let fly
with a full-blown noisy three weeks dead barrel of herring smellin'
fart in public." "And itís really sexy the way those flubbery ankles
of your overhang the sides of them cheap fuckin shoes." "Geth
Lawft...Bop...pith awwff." She said. "Ya know, you should have been an
actress," "She cleared her throat. "Look," she said, "do I have to lie
and claim I have a big black husband whoís hiding in the shithouse
with a shotgun and a gold tooth to get you to leave me alone?" After
that all I heard was "Awwright, just gimme those goddam cookies, you
humpbacked ham jelly, or Iíll kick yer fat ass...Shortly thereafter,
unk and the broad were rolling around the the bus aisle, locked in a
sort of death struggle. He was getting squished and choked and sadly
hamhandled until I got my blackjack out of my back pocket and cracked
her a good one on the back of the head. She screeched "Halppprff.
Slumbuddy Halpff Me!!." "The fat ladyís squawkin," I said, "but it
ainít over yet!!" unk, suddenly freed, managed to get his sock out. I
hollered: "finish it, you wiener. I canít hear the music." So he
popped her, but much more hardly than I had, and she hit the mat for
the ten count. "Hotcha, gotcha" he said. Then he started collecting
the cookies that had been scattered hither and yon during the fight.
"Hither and Yon?" he hollered. And you got on my ass for "Yee-haw?"
"Whats next? By and large?' Put that in the story and there won't be
no cookies for your Ye Olde Antiquey-Talkin ass."

Anyway, he rest of the passengers seemed a little uneasy about this
whole thing, so I jumped up and said. "Sorry folks," Nothing to be
concerned about. Miss Doublebutt here signed on for Jeffro Cruggs
radical weight loss program, which includes 24-hour bad-bubba
surviellance and blubber prevention... Commodore Skunkers here was
just doing his job." They seemed mollified somewhat, but I donít think
the bus driver bought it, as me and unk had barely started beating the
shit out of each other over the cookies when he pulled over and
strolled back toward our seats. "Iím afraid Iím going to have to ask
you two to leave the bus" He said, drawing a hogleg revolver from his
fescue cummerbund. "What you afraid of, douchebag," Unk said. "You
got a big shootin-iron. Ask away and donít be skeered." So he said "I
gonna ask you...." "Hey," unk hollered, "you wouldnít fall for that
old ëlookout behind you' shit would you?" "I dunno. maybe." the guy
said. "I flunked out of plumbing school." "But if I did, it would be
sort of embarrassing. Canít you come up with anything more devious
than that?" "Iíll try, unk said. "hey" he hollered, "if you shoot us
now, or throw us off the bus, this fuckin story will end here, and you
know you and everybody else couldnít possibly be that lucky, so you
better turn around real quick because Iím fixing to kick you and take
your gun away, and I know youíd rather get kicked in the ass than the
balls." "That might do," said the driver, and spun around quicky and
stuck out his backside. But instead of kicking him, unk whipped out
his sap and cracked him smart and lovely on the noggin, and he
immediately lost conciousness. "Whadda sucker...Two down. Glad I got
to him before the porksickles got to him. He ate half a dozen of them.
Wish I could say the same for the big-un. She damn near put me off her
cookies with that tailpipe tuba of hers." "Grab the piece and check
his wallet," I said.

"Well," unk said, looks like we got some unattended baggage here.
"thatís against federal regs. Letís get ëem outa here." So we started
pushing and pulling the big lady toward the door. "Music Man," unk
said, "Lets have Whaling songs! And be quick about it, orI'll have ye
flogged an buggered, AAAARRRH" But he still didnít hear him, and kept
right on braying about where he was "a-gonna go when de volcano
blowed." After a great deal off effort, we managed to roll both of
them out the door and into the road, directly into the path of
oncoming traffic. "I got a feeling that boy might regret pulling off
on the left" I said. Sure enough, just as I finished saying it, the
traffic tractor chugged into view, with Lars Freon, a local radio
personality, up in a makeshit crow's nest, presumably describing the
situation on the highway, pounding on his chest so he would sound like
he was in a heliocopter. We leaned out the door and hollered at the
driver, who unk claimed was a guy by the name of Bumpkiss Longnasty
(Said he knew him from the joint) to look out for the snoozing lard in
the highway. "What" he yelled. "Lookout" we yelled. "What" he yelled.
"Lookout" we yelled, and so on. I would have given all the money I
stole out of aunt Floboís mayo jar (that she was saving for a bypass
operation) to have a video of the face he made when he ran slap and
bouncily over the both of them, causing them to blow guts at both
ends, and dislodging Lars from his 20 ft high perch, who subsequently
screeched and howled then shortly thereafter screeched to a halt on
the highway, using the top of his head to break his fall, and became
likewise quite dead. "HAW! Works every time," unk said. Hey, pop the
driver before he gets away. "BLAM !!" unk obliged me. "Sorry
Bumpkiss," unk said. "Too bad. He wasnít such a bad fucker. And he
looked kinda cute in that teddy." "Well," I said, "Guess this makes
us fugitives from justice and all. How exiting." We took a look around
the bus. Everyone looked a bit upset. "Fear not folks." unk said, "I
know you are all wondering who the hell will drive this tub now. Not
to worry. I had a Charles Chips route during the war. I can handle
it." "Okay," he said, as he settled into the drivers seat.."This seat
smells like butts...Call the tower! breeeawwk-skrrrch...Have the
controllers talk us down!" "Honk" unk said. Meanwhile, the singer, who
we had finally figured out was deaf for real, starting singing the
"hey Mr Tallyman" tally me banana shit in his Tom Brokaw imitates
Harry Belafonte voice. "Get rid of that prick, too," unk said. "Dumb
S.O.B. donít even know Hawaiian from Calypso." So I grabbed his
Ukelele and bashed him over the head with it. When I did, a little
music box with a crank on it fell out. "WEEERghh," said the singer.
"Goddam phony," I yelled. "I knowed it." Then I threw his somewhat
disoriented ass off the bus, onto the heap formed by the bloody
remains the the driver and the cookie monster. "Now whadda we, do?" I
said. "Should we put a few caps into him, too?..Itíll be hours before
traffic tractor II comes along." "Piss on him." Heís deaf. But I'd
barely gotton to the door and gotten my dick out when unk hollered
"preflight, stinky smoke....Check.....pooty brake
noise....check....nasty grinding sound that always worries
everybody....check." "This train is leaving the platform...please move
to the center of the vehicle and keep your dicks clear of the
door....extinguish all smoking materials and swallow your butts...and
remember folks, pissed-off Larry the the safety shrew will crawl down
the back of your britches and bite you on the ass if you donít buckle
up....awright...let's haul ass." "Wish you'd make up your fucking
mind," I said.

Then we took off. At least we started moving. The rest of passengers
by now were making lots of whimpering noises, despite my efforts to
reassure them and insist that a good time would still be had by all.
"Guess we canít go to Somewhat Biggerville" I said. Thereís apt to be
roadblocks. "Lets go to Flit-Fartengruben!" "Where and what the fuck
is that?, unk said. "I got a flyer at the Hindu Hilton," I said. "Itís
an old mining town, made entirely of roughhewn claptrap shanty shacks
and metal warehouses, thatís been done up to look just like a village
in the Austrian Alps with fake cukoo-clock looking woodwork painted in
ridiculous colors stuck on it by wheezing ex-miners in Tyrolean hats
and lederhosen desperate to make a living by dressing up like
Pinnochio and peddling beer and faux krauty crap to dullwitted
Winebaggage and dorks." "We can hit the Oompah Mall. It has a
chia-hedge clock and a band made up of red-faced fellows with chubby
knees and everything." "Iím there" He said. "The fuck you are." I
said. "But turn right here."

"You, know," he said. "I donít think the rest of them passengers are
having a good time. Try to cheer them up. Tell them about the change
in plans, if that donít work, tell them to quit that blubberiní or
weíll really give ëem something to yowl about." So I did. Didnít do
much good, so I shot the smartass kid so they'd really have something
to yowl about. "ah, well, I tried," I said. "Theyíll feel better after
theyíve had some sausage and beer." "Yeah." he said "We need some
tunes, too."Then I hollered: "Letís have some fucking singing. ..Who
knows roll out the barrell?..."Don't be holding back, or we'll have a
contest and see who has the biggest liver, and find out how much
grease there is inside of a nun." "So, reluctantly they all piped up
and started singing, but without much enthusiasm. "These people are
hopeless," I said. "Why would they sign up for something like this
unless they wanted to have a good time?"

Anyway, "I wandered back up to the front and said "How you fixed for
cash, unk?" "I ainít got dick," he said. "Too easy," I said. The
tickets tapped me out too, and there was nothing in the driver's
wallet but a two dollar bill autographed by Donald Trump. "Well, I
said, if we are going to have any fun at the stores, or buy a round of
sausage for the gang, weíre going to have to knock something over.
Letís hit the next gas station." "Check," he said. "Hell no, I said,
but we honor Mistercrud!" "What?" he said. After a few minutes we
came up on a trashy little service station with two ancient rusty
alien looking pumps, marked "FULL SURV" on one side and "SLEF" on the
other. There was a guy in v-necked wife beater with his big hairy
navel hanging out from underneath of it sitting out front caterwalling
along with what I presumed was a country song. "What the hell," unk
said, pulling into the full surv side., "letís live it up." The guy
wandered out to the driverís window and said "YUH." "Change the air
in the tires and gimme half a tankfull of diesel," unk said. "Jesus,"
I said, "that gag was old when I was in grade school." "I know," he
said, "but this guy is too young to have heard it." For once, I had to
admit he was right, because, despite a bit of grumbling, the guy began
to flat the tires and started muttering about what a bitch it was to
determine the cubic footage of big fuel tanks. "You keep an eye on the
passengers," unk said. "Iím gonna clean out the till."

He hadn't been gone long when I heard a couple shots, the attendant
sort of pricked up his ears, "Whuh wazzat?," he said accusingly, so I
reached out the window and clocked him with the blackjack just to be
on the safe side. "Shit," I said. "Now I gotta figure out how much is
half a tank myself." About that time I noticed the rest of the
passengers had formed a little huddle in the aisle, and I heard one of
them say, "let's go. On three." I took it as a positive sign that they
wanted to play a little football on the bus, so I said. "Shirts and
skins!," I want all the women to..." but, before I could finish, the
nun yelled "three!" and they all charged straight at me with murder in
their eyes. I sort of jumped, sort of rolled and sort of fell out the
door, a split second before they converged on the spot I had recently
occupied. "That didn't seem quite fair," I said. After missing me they
all slammed into the front of the bus, and apparently knocked it into
gear, because it suddenly lurched forward. The rear wheels went
directly over the face-down pump jockey, and he popped like a zit and
showered me with slimy entrails. "URrrgh" I said. "This is a little
more festive than even I wanted to look." The bus, meanwhile,
continued straight ahead at fair speed, running over a gas pump, which
erupted underneath it and spewed a geyser of flame which rapidly
engulfed the bus. The folks on board apparently panicked and hit the
wrong pedal or something, because it suddenly accelerated and shot
across the street, knocking cars around in the parking lot of T.J.
Maxx, then running smack into the side of the building and exploding.
A moment later, unk came out from behind the building cackling. "Yo.
We hit the jackpot. Cleaned the till and the coke and candyman, who
was here to empty the machines...well, I haven't actually cleaned him
yet, but he is deader than federal fiscal responsibility.

"Then he said: "Hey, where the fuck is the bus, and what's with the
all the guts?....Where the hell's my share?" I pointed to the thick
black plume of smoke and the screaming bystanders across the street."
"Oh," he said, that's just dandy. What the fuck are we supposed to do
now?" "Take his car", I said, pointing to the empty sack from whence
came the guts, "he ain't gonna need it." "Well, at least that bus
bashing into that discount dump got you off the hook, sort of." "How
so?", I said. "In the last installment you named this one 'hitting the
stores' and all the fuck you've talked about is the goddam bus ride.
At least now the only thing betwen you and halfway doing what you
promised is an 's'." "I'll get to it in the next one, I swear," I
said. "Yeah, right," he said. "How long you figure to keep this shit
up, anyway?" he said. I'm already sick of it." "Shut the fuck up," I

Next: Who the fuck knows?

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