Last night’s Jersey Shore featured some great domestic violence action courtesy of, who else, Ronnie and Sam. Clearly the Jersey Shore can bring out the absolute worst of people and last night proved that point. So when you start with degenerative scum, it’s only right that they transform themselves into debaucherous shitshows.
NASTY continues his journey towards accomplishing that goal.
It wouldn’t take long before I started losing sensation in my legs. I wobbled over as fast as I could trying to catch up to a panic-stricken Squinty. I mumbled my request to slow down and he obliged. Sanchez was long gone it seemed — lost in the crowd of bodies trickling out of surrounding beach houses. It was now 1 A.M. and someone had let the dogs out.
Mindless drunks roamed the street, gnawing on the necks of sorostitutes, and shouting obscenities as we sped past them. Making sure to avoid eye contact, we kept close, hoping to somehow find Sanchez in the midst of the chaos around us. My aimless stumbling was not helping matters as Squinty was growing increasingly worried. It’s always a bad sign whenever Squinty starts worrying.
“He can’t be too far. We’ll find him.”
“Look around you NASTY. We’re surrounded by packs of wild juggalos and juiceheads. I’d be surprised if was still breathing.” Squinty, the eternal pessimist. I tried squeezing his shoulder as if to reassure him, but it was unwarranted because we soon found Sanchez lying in a ditch.
“Stop touching each other and help me up.”
Squinty and I grabbed a hand and flung Sanchez up onto his feet. He was grateful, considering he’d been lying there for a good 10 minutes before we arrived. Apparently, as he rushed us out the house, he tripped over his untied shoelaces and fell into a mob of bodies. That mob quickly devolved into a mosh pit resulting in Sanchez being thrown up into the air and landing ass first into the space where curb meets pavement.
Our reunion didn’t last long as a gang of vapid juiceheads came running right at us. Their mission: to destroy everything standing in their way. They uprooted mailboxes out of the ground, kicked over garbage cans, and ripped windshield wipers from innocently parked cars.
A violent shitshow heading our way.
We braced for impact as we ate flying elbows, stray fists, and painful headbutts. My nose started bleeding.
As I stood holding my head up to the sky, I asked the heavens, “What did I do to deserve this?”
And because I wasn’t looking, I took a lead pipe to the throat.
the chronic fornicator
pudge NASTY
