Chapter 3

The car ride to Gloucester was a burly hell of nonsensicalisms.  Tahj and Bwass squared off in what has been dubbed 'Retarded Insult Battle Royale 2006'.  Allow me to give you a sampling of what I endured for about 2 hours.

 Tahj: bwass, shut ya jew mouth!

Bwass: Ok Tahj, why don't u have Tia fix your corn rows.

 Tahj: Ok Tucan Sam.

Bwass: Tahj, you're wearing jeans and it is 100 degrees out

Tahj: Bwass! Ya brought an Extreme Teen Bible!

Bwass: Ok, Kunte Kinte

Tahj: Bwass, me and Kwass, we bone, daily.

Bwass: Me and Tia, we space docked*

And that is what I had to listen to.  Only Mrs. Roopenian was unfazed by the onslaught of stupidity.  When we finally arrived at the house, i was shocked to find there was no running water or electricity.  Instead they had one battery powered ham radio and a outhouse apty nicknamed 'Stinktown'.

Me: Nick, What the fuck man.

Nick: What?

Me: Dude, this place is dilapidated

Nick: Cozy, the word is cozy.

Me: No, dilapidated, I've been in here three minutes and feel like I need a Tetnis shot-

Bwass: Tetris, its called Tetris.

(We all looked at Bwass for a hard minutes before resuming conversation)

Me: There is no heat, water, TV, or toilet and I i can see raccoons in my 'bed'.

The bed was basically some hey and dirt with a disgusting green blanket that was most certainly not originally green.

*Space Docking is when a man squats over and woman and she lines up her vagina with his asshole.  The man then proceeds to take a dump in her Punetang.  Yes, I know. Foul. 

Space Docking is a registered trademark of Hellfish Inc.

My 'bed' at Nicks 'House'