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 | Blogs > emersunbigguns > Blossoms from the Fart Garden > A Road Trip With Otis |
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There it was, Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, and a friend named Tony was home from college with no plans. I knew Tony only too well: the boy was trouble. He should have been a junior, but there had been an incident involving a stolen maintenance tractor, a broken-down dorm room door of a guy named Lance, and a fire all in one evening, and word had it around town and his school that Tony was on thin ice already. Tony, you see, had managed to drive the tractor into the dorm, knock down Chuck's door at one in the morning, drive the tractor back out, and set it on fire. Tony's father, a rich dude, had prevented him from being permanently ejected. Tony hatched a plan. His folks had given him coupons of some sort for a two-day rental car with unlimited mileage and a free deal at Hampton Inn. He wanted to use them. "Let's take a road trip tomorrow," he said. I readily agreed for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I was bored. For another, it was free. The next morning... When I opened the door, it was obvious Tony hadn't been to bed that night. He was wearing the same unkempt clothes. He also had a mid-sized dog on a leash, which looked like some cross between an infected giant sea turtle and an embalmed prehistoric muskrat. It had a giant head, a red coat, a smaller body, and giant bony legs. And it smelled. I stepped back from the door. "Let's hit the road!" said Tony. "What's with the dog"? I asked. "Forget all about it. Said I'd keep it for a pal. His name's Otis." Against my better judgment, the three of us hit the road two hours later in a blue Buick LeSabre with cloth velour seats. We looked like a couple of wigga drug dealers escaped from some reform school in Florida, headed to some run-down dog pound. I couldn't believe that I'd agreed to hit the road with these two corn pones, but I had absolutely nothing else to do. The dog was riding shotgun in the back seat. Tony had announced that we were headed to "Wisconsin Dells, Baby," I'd been there myself a few times but not in many years, but how much trouble could we get into? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Three hours later we rolled into The Dells and checked into a Hampton Inn (so far, we hadn't spent a dime of our own money). But we found out pretty quick that the Hampton Inn absolutely refused to let the dog into the hotel. Tony ignored them and snuck the dog into our room anyway. The day actually wasn't that bad. We hiked down to the lake, walked at least five miles, and then retreated back to the hotel for a nap. The dog slept on the floor; at least he wasn't a barker. Everybody awoke a few hours later refreshed, ready to hit the town and see if we could meet some girls. It was Tony who first suggested that we leave the dog in the room. I was against the idea, but it began to make sense. The dog basically just wanted to sleep and I hadn't heard him bark once. Once we left the room, he'd probably just lay down and crash out. But we needed to feed him, so Tony ran across the street and got him a couple of McDonalds double cheeseburgers, which the mutt inhaled in two gulps. "That'll put him down for a few hours," said Tony. We both grabbed quick showers and hit the town. We managed to eat a decent dinner, walk around town, and wound up in a local redneck country dive. There was some band that wasn't bad, and we had a good time. I only drank one beer; needless to say Tony had quite a bit more. But I was pleasantly surprised when I managed to strike up a conversation with a girl at the next table. She'd come in there with a guy so I hadn't even tried to talk with her. But it turned out it was her brother. We danced a couple of songs, talked for a couple of hours (she was in college up in LaCross), and exchanged numbers. Tony was pissed. For one thing, he was wearing the same filthy clothes from yesterday. For another, he just generally made a butt of himself wherever he went and no girls wanted much to do with him. You could tell he was really surprised I'd managed to get into a long conversation with a girl and strike up something fun. All in all, I was quite pleased with myself as we headed back to the hotel after one AM. Dang if I wasn't the cats meow! This was classic road trip material to tell my pals: a free trip and the phone number of a hot babe! Tony pressed me for the details on the way back and I embellished a little bit. "Yeah," I said. "We're getting together over Christmas. She's coming to to meet my parents. We think it's love." I said all this with a straight face and you could tell Tony was really upset. "I hope Otis is okay," said Tony. I hadn't thought of the dog once, but, being a dog lover, I'd grown fond of the old mutt, and I was looking forward to seeing him. Heck, this night couldn't get any better. When we got back to the room and opened the door, the smell hit us like a donkey farting through silk. A wave of stink singed my nostrils. "What the...?" said Tony. The dog had shit everywhere. He shit on both beds. He shit in the bathtub. He shit on the carpet. He shit on the mat. He shit on the tile. I'm talking about squirt shit. Not the lumpy kind. The dog had managed to also shit on Tony' socks. It really looked like an elephant with diarrhea had soaked the entire suite for everything it was worth.  click to enlarge One corner of one of the mattresses was completely gnawed off, as if somebody had smuggled an electric chainsaw into the room and gotten busy. All in all, the room was trashed. We were both in shock. The dog was darn happy to see us. He came bounding up like nothing had happened -- like some sick uncle back from rehab. An hour later, we'd made some inroads into cleaning it. But the poop wouldn't wipe up. It had soaked through everything like a giant, retching Bigfoot. The next morning, we checked out. Tony was hoping they "wouldn't notice" but I knew better. Tony was headed for major trouble again. After all, the room had been in his parents' name. At least he wouldn't be in trouble with the university this time. On the way home, the dog shit in the Buick for good measure. I found out a month later that Tony's dad had cancelled his tuition and forced him to join the Army. The bill for the hotel room was over fifteen hundred dollars. When we got back, Tony dropped Otis off at his friend's house. "I hope Otis wasn't any trouble," the owner said. "Has he done number two today"? "Yeah," said Tony. "Several times." We turned the Buick into the dealer and got a dirty look from the clerk after they figured out that it smelled like a flock of seaturds. I wound up seeing the girl during Spring Break and we did even start dating, although it didn't really turn out serious. The story of Otis is now pretty famous, although Tony's not around to get any credit for it.  The Key To A Man's Shart  |
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6/30/2008 12:21 am |
emers rofl rofl Stobbit, you almost made me heave my coffee up!!   The Key To A Man's Shart
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 6/17/2008 5:48 pm |
emers rofl rofl Stobbit, you almost made me heave my coffee up!! Weed The Earth To Find Your Rose
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