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i got drunk the other night. 12 beers 3 shots of scotch and 4 grape crushes. i got home around 1:30 in the am. i was wide awake and headed out into the night. it was raining quite hard and by the time i left through the back door and made it to the train tracks i was already soaked. at two o'clock in the morning i wandered down the tracks listening to marylin manson so loud i never would have heard the train barreling down on me at 70 miles an hour until it was too late. its a good thing trains have lights. all around me the trees lit up in a erie glow and by the time i had turned around the train was right there. somehow i managed to leap/stumble from the tracks, roll down a 40 foot stone embankment and land in a ditch atop a pile of old broken rail road ties just in time to live for another day. i was drunk so the whole ordeal didnt hurt a bit. but i laid there for a while just because i wasnt quite sure if i was able to get up or not. unfortunatly i was. the second i made it up to my feet a voice said "holy shit motherfuck you almost got hit by a train!" startled i stumbled backwards and fell, looking up into the rain again. shortly after a fat bald kid was standing over me helping me to my feet. i laughed. he looked to be about 16 or 17 years old. he must have weighed about 250 pounds and his head was shaved smoother than a strippers ass. i was standing looking at this kid, he looked like grimace minus the purple and the rain drops running down his porceline head were reflecting a red glowing light from somewhere behind where i was standing. grimace grabbed me by the arm and led me up over the other side of the embankment and down into another gully beneath a bridge where about 6 of his cronies were sitting drinking by a small home made fire. "goddamn hobos." i thought. "they're going to burn the whole damn town down." with another beer in my hand i sat down on a log next to the fire and was introduced to the gang of hobos under the bridge. they were all young. 3 sat on an old couch and the other 3 sat on old logs scattered around the fire. the fat kid just stood, good exercise i guess. i lit a cigarette and drank my beer barely listening to the introductions coming from this fat little kid. i had introduced my self and made it about halfway through telling these kids where i was from and why i was in missouri wandering down the tracks at two o'clock in the morning when i saw the large swastica and SS grafitti on the walls. one of the kids had a large SS tattoo on the side of his neck. i stopped talking for a moment. in a moment of revelation i said outloud "your not fucking hobos, your goddamn skinheads" the reply i got was not a good one. "fuck you man! aryan brotherhood for life bitch!" haha, i laughed. what else can you do when some 16 year old ghetto talking missouri hick spouts off some aryian brotherhood bullshit. the kid got up and walked halfway over to me and spouted off some more racist bullshit in ebonics. i interupted him. "go sit down man. hate niggers all you want, what the fuck do i care? i just thought you were hobos at first. . ." the kid must have been a real pussy because he did what he was told. good little inbred. the brotherhood had lost my interest. i got up and told them i was going home. they invited me to come back someother time and i said sure thing. i stumbled back to the top of the embankment put on my head phones and played some wu-tang. i stopped for a moment and then turned back to the kids under the bridge and yelled "hey, keep hating them niggers! those goddamn niggers!" they hooted and hollered in some fucked up little racist celebration as i walked back to the top of the tracks and disappeared into the night. after i made it about 100 yards down the tracks i let out one final yell "NIGGERS!" it was loud and echoed through the trees and after a while i could hear them calling back. 7 fucked up little inbred racists talking ghetto drinking malt liquor under a bridge in the middle of nowhere on a torn and tattered old couch. confused little fuckers they were. i only hope they never run into the real aryan brotherhood, that would be a sad day in everyone of their lives. it just makes me smile to think, all the black people i have know at least had a porch to sit on. . . goddamn hobos. |
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