"B" Street

On a clear spring night, I was practicing with my band. We had practiced long and hard, and we were quite hungry. We decided to put down our instruments, so we could go somewhere to eat. Derek and Jeff, who play bass and drums in my band, decided not to go out to eat. GUMBa, Huggy, Dan, and I piled into Dan's 1995 Firebird and headed towards Taco Bell. Being the "quick witted cat" that I am, I called "shotgun."

Dan decided to go through the drive-through, because we wanted to get back to Derek's house to practice some more. When it was our turn in line to order, I ordered my usual two 7-layer burritos and a cup of water. GUMBa and Huggy each ordered one 7-layer, a side order of nachos, and a cup of water. Dan ordered one of the combo meals and a large 32 oz. Mountain Dew. We patiently waited in line for our food and drove around to the window. When we got our food, we realized that the cashier gave us an extra chicken burrito. GUMBa, Huggy, and I are vegetarians, so this complementary chicken burrito didn't sound appetizing to us. Dan said he didn't want it, so I did what any person would do, I loaded the burrito with about six or seven packets of hot sauce and told Dan to drive across the street to McDonalds.

When we got to McDonalds, Dan saw some friends he new. He got out of his car and walked over to talk to them. GUMBa, Huggy, and I stayed in the car and ate our food. When Dan finished talking to his friends he hadn't seen in a while, he walked back to the car and stepped in. We all smiled to ourselves knowing the wrath that is bound to come for the workers of McDonalds, at least for the clean-up crew. As Dan started his car and backed out of the parking place, I worked into position. I grabbed the burrito, wrapper and all, and hung out of the window of his Firebird. I had to sit on the edge of the open window for extra stability, so I could throw the burrito over the top of his car and onto the gigantic window in front of McDonalds that proudly hosts the "golden arch." "For all the cows," I yelled out as the burrito left my hand and continued to fly through the air, slamming into the gigantic logo that the obese people of America bow down to and give praise before driving off to church on any given Sunday morning. The burrito hit the window with an enormous thud, and the wrapper that housed the burrito stuck to the logo and slowly crept down the glass leaving a trail of hot sauce and chicken. We dipped out and drove into "downtown" LaPorte laughing our asses off. That was hilarious, I didn't think it could get any better than that.

I don't know if it was out of inspiration or the fact that GUMBa wanted to out-do what I had done, but he inspired me to do something else. As we turned onto Maple Street, GUMBa put his hand out of the window, and through his full medium sized water at a parked car. When the full cup of water hit the car, ice flew from the cup and mimicked a sound similar to glass breaking. I said that I was going to throw some thing next. Dan said that he didn't want his Mountain Dew. It hadn't been touched. Mountain Dew was coming out of the little holes between the straw and the lid. I took a little sip to bring the level of the Mountain Dew to its usual 32 oz. I wasn't going to waste this full Mountain Dew on just any old car, I was looking for the perfect one.

We drove around LaPorte for a little while, and turned onto "B" street. By this time I was tired of holding the Mountain Dew. I was destined to throw it soon. Dan stopped at a stop sign. Another car arrived at the intersection at the same time as the Firebird. Being the gentleman that Dan is, he let the car go before him. I rolled my window down as the other car made a right onto "B" street. My plan was to throw the Mountain Dew at the first parked car next to the intersection. My pre-meditated attack was modified a little when I noticed that the turn signal of the car that had just made a right was still on. The car pulled into a parallel parking spot. By this time I new that I would out-do GUMBa's throw. I was in a zone, and the front driver-side window was my target. "I'm going to hit the car that's running," I said. Everybody else just chuckled. Dan slowed down to about 18 mph, and I took position. This time, because the car was to the right of Dan's, I had to brace myself with my left hand as I hung out of the window with a full 32 oz plastic cup of Mountain Dew. I wound up, and through the cup towards the window. I threw the cup harder than I normally would to compensate for the air friction, and I made sure to throw it a little behind the front window because the cup was also moving at the same speed as the car. I noticed when the cup reached the plane of the window, the window had been rolled down. Immediately my conscience began to pull at my stomach as I watched the face of the mid-thirty year old woman turn towards the flying full 32 oz plastic cup of Mountain Dew. I watched the cup make contact with her face, knocking her glasses off. As the cup hit her face, Mountain Dew splashed out, soaking the entire interior of her car with Mountain Dew.

"You don't have to worry about that lady getting you're license plate number," I said.

"Why's that?" Dan asked.

"Because I hit her in the face!"

Dan put the gas pedal to the floor of his car, and we experienced the full potential of his GM engine. Even though it is only six cylinders, my back felt as if it were a cheap mound of metal, and the seat was a strong magnet. We drove until we got to the county roads that were made familiar from the many "country rizides" that all four of us had been on.

Now, Dan swears that I am truly an "evil mother fucker." He always finds a way to tell "the story of 'B street" whenever he introduces me to someone new.

So what grade did you get on the paper Sam?