Road to Badger Boy: Part 3
BUSTIN’ OUT: Whelps ma’ first prison break attempt didn’ go alls to plan. Ever since da’ email frum Sanders… God I hate Sanders! I’ve been keepin’ ma’ eyes peeled fer a quick escape an’ it came in da’ form of a tanker truck. A septic tanker ta’ be precise. I watched as it made weekly trips ta’ the big house, emptyin’ the prison poop tanks and drivin’ out an never checked once. I formulated a plan.
First I needed ta’ get to a lower security part o’ the prison an’ that’s the infirmary. Sos I complain ta’ da’ guard dat ma’ teeth really hurt an’ I needed ta’ go to the prison dentist. He says he needs ta’ see ma’ teeth ta’ make sure I ain’t fakin’, sos I flashed ‘em my daisy yellows an’ a disgusted grimace laters I’m in the infirmary ta’ see da Yank and Drill.
Da’ Dentist slides me inta’ chair then after sum coxin’ gets me ta’ opening ma’ maw. He stares at ma’ choppers fer what seems like hours then walks outta’ da’ office mumblin’ sum’ thin’ ‘bout a high power hose an’ Clorox. Sos quick like a marmet I’m outta the back door, down da’ drain pipe, shimmied to da’ septic tank an’ down da’ hatch. Now septic tank hatches are ‘bout the size o’ basketball, but anyone knows da’ all carnies are double jointed an’ can typically stuff themselves inta’ a beer cooler if threatened.
Now da’ plan was ta’ lay in wait till da’ tanker showed up an’ squeeze ma’ way through the pipin’ and off ta’ freedom. Ba’ as soon as I dropped inta’ that waist deep poo pool I was pretty freaked out. I don’ do to well wit dark enclosed places that smell like pee… reminds me too much of ma’ childhood home. Sos after a few minutes flintchin’ every time “something” brushed up against me I decided ta light a match.
Several hours later I was backin’ the prison infirmary all bandaged up ans’ I had a great view of the fire pit dat was once the septic tank. Docs said dat the methane gas explosion forced ma’ body to the bottom o’ the human waste pool which saved me from burnin’ alive, but they did have ta’ remove a “foreign particle” dat was lodged in ma throat. Less I know ‘bout dat foreign particle da better I’ll sleep at night.
First I needed ta’ get to a lower security part o’ the prison an’ that’s the infirmary. Sos I complain ta’ da’ guard dat ma’ teeth really hurt an’ I needed ta’ go to the prison dentist. He says he needs ta’ see ma’ teeth ta’ make sure I ain’t fakin’, sos I flashed ‘em my daisy yellows an’ a disgusted grimace laters I’m in the infirmary ta’ see da Yank and Drill.
Da’ Dentist slides me inta’ chair then after sum coxin’ gets me ta’ opening ma’ maw. He stares at ma’ choppers fer what seems like hours then walks outta’ da’ office mumblin’ sum’ thin’ ‘bout a high power hose an’ Clorox. Sos quick like a marmet I’m outta the back door, down da’ drain pipe, shimmied to da’ septic tank an’ down da’ hatch. Now septic tank hatches are ‘bout the size o’ basketball, but anyone knows da’ all carnies are double jointed an’ can typically stuff themselves inta’ a beer cooler if threatened.
Now da’ plan was ta’ lay in wait till da’ tanker showed up an’ squeeze ma’ way through the pipin’ and off ta’ freedom. Ba’ as soon as I dropped inta’ that waist deep poo pool I was pretty freaked out. I don’ do to well wit dark enclosed places that smell like pee… reminds me too much of ma’ childhood home. Sos after a few minutes flintchin’ every time “something” brushed up against me I decided ta light a match.
Several hours later I was backin’ the prison infirmary all bandaged up ans’ I had a great view of the fire pit dat was once the septic tank. Docs said dat the methane gas explosion forced ma’ body to the bottom o’ the human waste pool which saved me from burnin’ alive, but they did have ta’ remove a “foreign particle” dat was lodged in ma throat. Less I know ‘bout dat foreign particle da better I’ll sleep at night.
posted by Captain Mog at 4:56 PM
3 Comments:
Sorry to read the methane explosion foiled the escape.
I guess that's one more reason to discard our excrement.
You tell it so well carnie, I'm sorry you failed. Don't you lose hope though now, you hear? Mel is out there somewhere and he needs you.
LOL!!!
Gil, your misery is high comedy. But I think you may have stumbled upon your ideal escape route: stuff yourself into a guard's beer cooler!
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