My Good Friend Dale

So dale and I walk into the 7/11. The touque is sitting in the car. He's keeping it running for us so we can jump right in and take off. I look back at the touque and give him a nod. He just smiles.

We go through the doors, dale and I, and make a beeline for the slurpees. We both pick up the cups for those super duper mother fucking big gulps. The slurpee cups are like little penises. I want a drink like a big dick. We fill up the cups. I wait for dale while he finishes filling his up. The stupid schmuck doesn't know when to say when. He fills it up too high so there's slurpee gunk pouring down over his hands and its getting onto his pants and he has to go to the bathroom to clean his sorry self up.

And what does that mean for me? Well, its a little awkward. Now I have to pretend I'm looking for something else to buy, because otherwise I'd have to go and pay for the stupid slurpee. I look down at it. I don't even want it anymore. It looks disgusting. its that off pink slime colored cream soda that should be called cream sugar because it tastes like nothing but sweet. Its gonna be gross and I'll probably just chuck it out the window as soon as we get in the car. But that's not the point.

So dale finally comes out of the washroom and he has a big smile on his face. He looks all proud. I wonder what he did, but I won't give him the satisfaction of asking. I walk over to him and then together we walk over to the clerk who has been eyeing us suspiciously since we came in. You can't blame him. Sorry punkass.

We get just about up to the counter, just like we're going to pay, and then we bolt. I smash through the door first, being careful to hold my slurpee far away so that I don't spill any of it. Dale is right after me and we're outside and gonna jump in for our getaway. But there's no touque. I look all around. There's no touque. The sorry bastard left us. Fucker. I would've gotten mad but there wasn't time because the clerk was coming out already from behind the counter. And he's got a shot gun in his hand. Neither of us had counted on that. Its these damn independent operators. He must have owned the joint. Damnit touque.

Well I look at dale and shrug. Dale's got a bum leg already. So yeah, I look at him and shrug and take my foot and crank him in the leg real hard and he buckles like a little girl. Then I bolt. The clerks so busy dealing with dale he doesn't have time to look for me and by the time he does i am gone. And I don't spill a drop.
- posted by Sigurd3/04/2004 12:08:00 PM