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Karl Koweski |
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looking for Sid I'm wandering around the camp grounds of Woodstock, not the original, of course just one of its hackneyed sequels and I come across this goofy bastard waving a placard reading HAVE YOU SEEN SID? real subtle, the kid must have a fucking ink blot for a brain "hey kid," I approach him "you needing some acid?" "yeah, man, you got some?" kid's eyes bulging out of his head he already has his wallet out "relax on that," I mutter "I'm just a scout see that guy sitting over there" I motion to some fat guy sitting outside a beige two man tent "he's got what you're looking for white blotter acid, good shit he's cautious, though, and won't sell nothing unless you hit him with the code word I'm giving out" "what's the code word?" "chubby tits" the kid can't thank me enough he beelines for the fat bastard and whispers the code word when the guy grabs the kid by the throat I duck behind a line of tents and retreat toward the main stage Melissa Etheridge will be on soon and I'm anticipating lots of naked lesbians nuts the new kid says a lotta people think he's psycho and he believes them he knows he's not right I tell him I think people often mistake a lack of intelligence for insanity and sometimes people who refer to themselves as crazy are ineffectual little men craving attention you ain't lived my life he says, you don't know what I'm capable of well what makes you crazy? you eat your own shit? no you eat other people's shit? hell no you jerk off with a pair of underwear wrapped around your head as you sing along with a Britney Spears' song? the new kid shakes his head then you're not fucking crazy or, at the very least, not as crazy as I am stop now I knew the stop sign wasn't optional but considering it was a four way stop and there were no other vehicles in my line of sight I slowed down enough to acknowledge the stop sign and continued on my way until I noticed the flashing lights in my rear view mirror the cop, after taking my license, did not seem impressed that I had at least been considerate enough to slow down I don't see what the difference between slowing down and stopping is I muttered ruefully I understand the cop said, but, tell you what, in about a second I'm gonna take this night stick out and start beating the living shit out of you then you tell me you want me to stop or slow down |