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2.25.2011

the frog and the crackhead

This, boys and girls, is a true story entitled, “The Frog and The Crackhead.”  Gather ‘round, children, and learn from this tale.

Once upon a time there was this beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) who had many, many redneck friends.  The beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends loved to play redneck games like stealing the occasional road sign, playing in the mud, and drinking beer.  And, boy, did they ever drink a lot of beers!

One night the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends began drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they ever drink a lot of beers!  After the Drunk Fairy came and dusted them all with a thick layer of buzz, it was decided that the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends would play a new redneck game.  They decided they would take their paintball guns down into the ghetto and do drive-by “shootings” on all the silly crackheads that would be there!

The beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends climbed into a Ford F-150 chariot.  The beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) sat up front with two redneck friends, while four redneck boys sat in the back of the chariot’s bed.  Off they went into the night, holding their paintball guns, and ready for their redneck game.

The game began slowly, but it was quite fun!  The beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends continued drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they ever drink a lot of beers!  The group made their way down into the ghetto, making their first pass of the night.  The Ford F-150 chariot slowed when the corner came into view where the silly crackheads hung out.

POP! SPLAT! BANG! BANG! SPLAT!


“Drive-by!” yelled the silly crackheads, for they did not know that it was merely paint being shot at them and not bullets from a Glock.  The silly crackheads scattered, and the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends laughed in merriment while drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they drink a lot of beers!  This redneck game was so fun, they decided to take another pass into the ghetto!

Once again, the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends slowed the chariot when the silly crackheads came into view.  There were fewer crackheads this time, but this redneck game was such fun!

“Is dat da same truck?!” cried the silly crackheads.

POP! SPLAT! BANG! BANG! SPLAT!


“Mutha fucka!” screamed the silly crackheads. 

“Shit!  Dat’s fuckin paint!” they yelled. 

“Dem crackas got paintballs!” they exclaimed. 

The silly crackheads scattered, and the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends laughed in merriment while drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they drink a lot of beers!  This redneck game was so fun, they decided to make one last pass through the ghetto!

Only this time, the pass through the ghetto did not go as planned.  On the way to the corner where the silly crackheads could be found, something extraordinary happened!  The Ford F-150 chariot was making its progress through the ghetto, while the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends drank their beers.  And, boy, did they drink a lot of beers!  The chariot continued on its way.

BA-BUMP! ... BA-BUMP!

“What was that?!” cried the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me). 

“What happened?” questioned the redneck friends that sat in the front. 

“We ran over something!” yelled the redneck boys from the back.

They did, indeed, run over something.  A very big, very dark something was stone-cold dead in the middle of the road.  At the thoughts of a poor dog being killed that fine redneck night, the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends lost much of their merriment.

“We must look at the creature!” cried the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me).  “The blood of a beloved family pet may be on our hands, but we can make amends!”

So the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends left the safety of their Ford F-150 chariot to march down the street of the ghetto to see what had been killed on that fine redneck night.

The body was large, not moving, and long.  As the group got closer they could see long, thin legs extending from a very large body.  What an odd looking dog!  On and on the group marched until they halted in front of the family pet that was killed that fine redneck night. 

Only it wasn’t a family pet.

It was a frog.

A. huge. fucking. frog.

A huge fucking frog from a deep, dark mud hole.  The kind of frog people jigged for.  The kind of frog that gets ran over by a Ford F-150 chariot and gets mistaken for a dog.  A huge fucking frog.

All the rednecks gathered round the huge frog and wondered what to do.  Being rednecks, it was against their nature to just leave such a large prize behind.  It should either be eaten, stuffed and mounted, or put to use.  The rednecks did not want to eat the frog; its legs were too lean.  They never heard of a frog being mounted for display.  The rednecks had to find a use for the large fucking frog.

“Ah!” cried the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) as an idea emerged.  The frog could prove useful in their redneck games!  The beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) encouraged her many, many redneck friends to put the frog in the back of the Ford F-150 chariot.  The rednecks continued on their way through the ghetto, all the while drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they ever drink a lot of beers!

Once again the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends slowed the Ford F-150 chariot when the silly crackheads came into view.  There were far fewer crackheads this time, as only the truly desperate remained.  Paintballs could never interfere with a crackhead’s love for crack.  This time, however, would be different.  This time, the paintball guns would not be used.  This time, the rednecks had a huge fucking frog.  A frog that must be put to use, lest it be wasted.

Two of the redneck boys picked up the huge, dead frog.  Working as one, the redneck boys swung the frog back and forth, building momentum.  Back and forth, back and forth, the dead frog swung back and forth, until --

WHOOSH! SMACK!

“Argghh!” screamed a silly crackhead, who had fell on his silly crackhead ass when the huge fucking frog busted his silly crackhead face.

“Crackas hit me with a frog!  Them motherfucks got frogs!”

All the remaining silly crackheads scattered into the night, as they were apparently more afraid of dead frogs than paintballs and bullets combined.  Only the one silly crackhead remained -- the silly crackhead that had been been hit in the face with the huge fucking frog. 

As the Ford F-150 chariot carrying the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends drove off into the night, they could hear in the silly crackhead in the distance weeping...

“Frog right in my face... fucking frog hit me right in da head... frog bits on my clothes... that was a huge fucking frog.”

And the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) and her many, many redneck friends continued drinking their beers.  And, boy, did they drink a lot of beers!  The rednecks laughed with merriment because of their wonderful redneck game!  Oh, what a fine redneck night!

And the beautiful redneck girl (that’s me) lived happily ever after.  The end.

So that, boys and girls, was the true story of “The Frog and The Crackhead.”  I hope, children, that you understood the moral of this tale:

Stay off crack, or you may get hit in the head with a frog.

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1 comment:

  1. "The beautiful redneck girl (that's me)" Hahaha! Thats funny.

    ReplyDelete