Forwarded Message:
Subj: Menthol Kings International Players Society - Legal Action
Forthcoming
Date: 10/11/98 6:16:39 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: BBWAngel31
To: JonnyMotel
CC: BBWAngel31
To Whom It May Concern:
I am e-mailing to let you know that your organization will be
contacted shortly by my lawyer. I am bringing a civil suit for
damages incurred and am discussing possible legal action with
state and federal authorities.
I will describe the issues on which my legal actions will touch
as I am sure that the members of your organization are so
frequently involved in such debauchery and at such a high level
of intoxication that they most likely have difficulty
distinguishing between incidents and remembering more than vague
impressions of entire weeks at time.
I was a Menthol Kings fan and so naturally checked out the web
site, https://www.angelfire.com/ga/mentholkings/index2.html, where
I discovered the Menthol Kings International Players Society.
Much to my delight, for a minimal fee, I could spend an entire
evening with my then favorite King, King Rex. What was it that
led me to such a misinformed decision? Possibly those smoky eyes.
Having never really spoken with him, I was unsure if he was
actually capable of speech, but I was willing to take a risk.
Wanting something slightly more than the Basic Package and unable
to afford the Roadtrip Package, I signed up for Package One:
"Meet The Folks" ------Weekday evening (6pm-9pm). I
submitted a cashier's check for $71.99, and prepared for the
night of my life.
When I picked up King Rex at 5:30, he was noticeably intoxicated.
As I half carried him to my car, I was more than slightly
concerned about my upholstery, but he seems to hold large
quantities of liquor very well. His speech was not at all
slurred. Primarily because he said nothing. We arrived at my
parents' house and I helped him out of the car. Unfortunately my
heel caught in a sewer grate and I lost my grip on him. He seemed
unaffected by the fall to the curb and the resulting gash over
his left eye, motioning me away as I tried to staunch the gush
with a wad of kleenex, which remained stuck to his head for the
rest of the evening.
I thought perhaps the worst was over and that he was starting to
sober up. So I brought him inside to meet the folks. I felt that
as long as I could prevent his further imbibing that evening,
things might proceed nicely. He smiled politely to my parents
when introduced, but still said nothing.
I was waiting for the promised "anictodes, observations,
discussions of politics, and humorous company". The
misspelling of "anecdote" should have been a warning
signal. All that emanated from King Rex was some of what must
have been alluded to on the web page as "the exciting
chemsitry he emits while performing". Quite malodorous and
unpleasant. I wonder how the entire first three rows don't pass
out during performances.
When my parents offered us drinks, I politely declined for him.
He seemed unconcerned, and grunted and motioned, rather obscenely
I might add, that he needed to relieve himself. As I was confused
by his antics, I failed to respond quickly enough and he unzipped
and began to relieve himself on the coffee table. My mother,
thinking very quickly, grabbed a nearby plant and intercepted the
stream.
Making apologies to my parents, I dragged King Rex to the
bathroom to clean up. During the dragging, he managed to pull out
a hip flask that he had concealed and swig almost the entire
contents, spilling copiously on himself and on the rug before I
noticed. I grabbed the flask and poured the rest down the sink as
he watched indifferently. Little did I know that he had a second
flask hidden for emergencies. While I cleaned the front of my
dress, he managed to swig approximately half the contents of that
one as well. I grabbed it away from him and threw it to the floor
in disgust.
As I dragged him back to the living room, planning to make
excuses for him of extreme mental stress brought on by wild
success in the cutthroat recording industry and then head
straight for the door, he began to dig in his pockets. I failed
to notice that he was extracting a cigarette and a lighter. In
spite of his extreme inebriation his motor coordination was still
enough under his control so that he managed to make one of the
most foolhardy moves of his entire life and proceeded to flick
that bic.
The resulting explosion, due to the trapped methane he had
emitted in the living room earlier, blew out the windows in the
front of the house and ignited the large amounts of alcohol he
had previously spilled on the carpet as well as the alcohol he
had spilled on his shirt. I dropped to the floor with him and
rolled to extinguish the flames. Miraculously my parents were
unharmed and managed to open the front door and run out as Rex
and I followed.
The fire department and paramedics arrived, but too late to save
the house. As I huddled with my parents watching the blaze, Rex
stumbled to the back seat of my car and passed out.
We all returned to my house, my parents included since they now
no longer had a home of their own. I let them sleep in my
bedroom, I took the couch, and I left King Wrecks in the back
seat.
The next morning, my mother's screams wrenched me from my sleep.
Apparently Wrecks had awoken with the morning light, assumed
everything had gone fairly well the night before in spite of his
waking up in the back seat of my car alone with third degree
burns across much of his chest, come in to my house, and come
across the joints I had prepared the prior day in anticipation of
the pampering session at my house which was supposed to have
occurred after meeting my parents. He smoked most of one joint
and staggered into my bedroom buck naked with his A.M. woody
looking for the "early morning action". Enraged, I
tackled him and threw my bathrobe around him and then threw him
out of my house, marveling all the while at the virility of a man
whose member can still stand at attention even after all the mind
altering substances he had ingested in the previous 24 hours.
When I returned, my mother was sobbing into my father's arms,
shaking in terror and whimpering, "It was so huge..., just
enormous..., nothing like yours, George --- and ..., and..., and
he was coming right at me with it...". My poor father looked
none too happy either. They are currently undergoing extensive
individual therapy.
Additionally, since the insurance company refuses to pay to
rebuild the house because the fire department is ruling the fire
arson due to the molotov cocktail nature of its inception, my
parents are still with me. That is, at least until their trial
for insurance fraud commences. Imagine the stress of living with
two individuals whose lives you have been indirectly responsible
for ruining. My emotional well being is currently questionable as
well.
So I'm sure you can see how this was NOT "an evening they
will be discussing at the country club, at the weekly card games,
and at Sunday dinners for months to come". My parents can no
longer afford the country club dues, the tremor my mother has
developed does not allow her to hold anything, much less cards,
and my parents are not speaking to each other or me at dinner or
any other time.
I plan to include in my legal action a stipulation that this
e-mail be posted on your web site to warn other young innocents
of what can happen at the hands of such dissipated, dissolute,
corrupt, polluted, perverted and immoral individuals as the
Menthol Kings.
I hope you burn in hell.
Sincerely,
A Royally Pissed-off Prior Fan
