My Adventures in Crackville U.S.A.
A comedy article
by Scotty Snuggleduck  5,349  10
07/19/2004 12:37 PM 238 views
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My parents recently moved out of their house to pursue a new life in The Middle of Nowhere, Illinois. Last weekend, I was fortunate enough to help the move their crap. On the way there, I got lost. Not to bore you with driving directions from Northern St. Louis to Illinois, I'll just put it simply: I went the wrong damn way.
My mom told me the directions over the phone and I thought I was going the right way. I was on Illinois 3 heading south when I came upon a detour sign. Before I knew it, I ran out of detour signs and found myself smack dab in the middle of the ghetto. If you've never been to the ghetto, it's quite a place. I was driving through a nondescript neighborhood consisting mainly of boarded up houses and grown men riding bikes. One man sticks out in my mind because he was riding a girl's bike. It was pink with streamers on the handle bars and an Elmo squeeze horn. I didn't look too hard because I just knew he had an Oscar the Grouch 9mm in the flowery basket mounted on the front.
Anyway, I finally decided I was lost and turned around to get back to the highway. Approaching me was a tinted out black Jeep Cherokee, flashing his headlights at me. In my mind I pictured this man as someone else who had gotten lost and was going to inquire how to get back to the highway. As I passed, he made a gesture as if to say something. When I was in Boy Scouts, our motto was "Do a good turn daily." Ever vigilant to keep this credo, I stopped to help.
I knew I made a mistake when he exited his ghetto romper and came up to my window. He was holding a cigarette cellophane with a little white rock in it. "What you got, nigga?" was all he said.
I was pretty taken aback by this, not only because I'm fairly sure I'm not one of these "niggas," but also because the only rock I like is The Rock, and not as much as Meth(od Man). "Sorry, man, I'm not into that Shakespeare," was my reply. "Sorry."
He kind of stared at me, as if to say, "Then why did you stop, asshat?" I stared back at him as if to say, "Please, God, don't let me die today."
We stared at each other for what seemed like a week and a half, until I remembered my lollipops. See, a few days beforehand, I was at my buddy Dan's house and he gave me like a dozen Caramel Apple lollipops. Me, being the obese sugar hound that I am, gladly accepted.
"Hey, man, you like these?" I asked, and held a few of them up. One for him, and two for his fellow entrepreneurs still waiting in the car for an excuse to kill a fat white guy.
"Sure," he said, taking the suckers and getting back into his CSUV (Controlled Substance Utility Vehicle) "Thanks."
After that, I called my mom on my cell phone to cry awhile.
The best part of this whole ordeal was the fact that it was 8:00 in the morning. I had no idea that drug dealers had that kind of dedication.
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Side-splitting
23 votes
5.0
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6 Comments on "My Adventures in Crackville U.S.A."
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0 votes
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Shacusae 820  8
08/16/2004 04:54 PM
!sdrawkcab tsop ot tsrif
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0 votes
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No_Key_Bandit 76,490 10
08/16/2004 06:13 PM
They're going to be so pissed when they try to inject those lollypops into their veins.
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Roofie Raccoon 56,688 10
08/16/2004 08:18 PM
Next time you help your parents move, bring a ho along for the ride so you have something to barter for your life when some random pimp threatens to sell you drugs.
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Bong Rip Bob 320 8
08/16/2004 10:03 PM
Dude, pharmacutical china white comes in lolly pop form. You just jacked a real drug dealer.
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0 votes
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Gabe 9,232 13
08/17/2004 12:37 AM
Too bad you weren't munching down on some Rap Snacks. Then when he said "What you got, nigga?", you could have been all "Shakespeare, bitch. Grab a handful of my Lil' Romeo BBQ Honey chips, and shut your punk ass up."
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