We've Finally Reached The Summit

Sometimes shit pops off. Sometimes we get into things we should be in. Sometimes some things cannot be avoided, no matter what advice I’ve been given by my lawyer. And sometimes we aim for the stars and shoot the shit out of everything just because we God-damned well can!

This was one of those times. We never meant to let it get out of control but, with the way it started, I can’t believe we didn’t see it coming. First, we need to back up a little bit here.



Saturday 9 A.M.

I get a call from my lawyer and he’s quite upset. Something about getting thrown out of Mayslack’s for starting a fight with a glass of whiskey and a midget hooker – I didn’t ask any questions, as I was already eight fingers into a whiskey skank of my own. “Johnny, Johnny, calm down, what do you need?” His old lady is in the bar and needs to be exited before she “gets into some serious God-damned shit.” “What the Sam Fuck Hell do you need me for!?” He tells me he’s in the back of a car – cab, cop, or otherwise – and he’s making his way back to The Palace, but he’s being followed, and she can’t be caught. “By who?” He doesn’t know, but he makes it very clear to me that they mean fucking business and he needs some help. Fine, I say, I’ll head over there in a bit. After I get done fingering this eight-ball of Jameson. “Make it fucking quick,” he tells me, “and get The Chief on your way.” Oh fuck, now this really must be some serious shit. I chased down some uppers with the rest of my glass, and flashed out the door. I hope The Chief has some hash.

Saturday 9:30 A.M.


“Which one of you prostitutes stole my fucking car!?”

Jesus Christ.

The problem with going on dates with six and seven fingers of whiskey is that you have a tendency to lose track of where you put shit. My car being one of those things. Then again, when you’ve gone out and repainted it and left it crashed into the tree in your front fucking yard, it’s bound to take awhile to pull that memory out of your drowning brain.

Fuck, finally. Off to see The Chief


Saturday 11:30 A.M.

After stopping to grab a carton of smokes, I’m on the road again. Hey, it’s gonna be a long fucking ride. I called The Chief on the way and he was as dumbfounded as I was, “The fuck you use that shit-head lawyer for anyways?” I reminded him that, while a good question, he’s gotten me out of more jams that I care to remember and frankly, I owe the man. On the way back over to Mayslack’s, God damn I could use some wings, sitting at a stoplight, Biggy lights up the airwaves. The Chief and I are swayin’ it gangster-style when he reminds me that he’s not on the radio, “unless this is an Elton John remix of Big Poppa and Rocket Man.” Fuck, he’s right, it’s my God damn phone. It’s Johnny again, he’s clear of the fucking swine and has gotten himself in some deeper shit. “I need to meet you. Somewhere safe.” I ask him about his old lady. “Fuck that bag, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Where the fuck are you?” We’re in Northeast, headed to where he said we should go, where the fuck else would we be? “Get the fuck to St. Paul, on the fucking double. Go where God makes piss.” What the fuck? What’s he talking about. “You God-damned idiot, Gods piss. God’s. Fucking. Piss!”

It clicks, we’re gone.

Saturday Afternoon-ish?

Consciously, I didn’t really know where we were going, but my mind figured out where we needed to be by the sound of desperation in the man’s voice. So I let my subconscious do the driving. I just chain smoked until the car was too smoked out to see. Then I opened the window, and we were there.

“Pull around back, it’s not safe here.”

The Chief, when he’s on a mission, gives orders, and doesn’t give a shit who takes them, just as long as someone does. So I listened.

“Where fuck is that asshole!?”

It’s an eerie feeling when you get to where you’re supposed to meet someone and they’re not there, but you’re almost too drunk to notice where or why you’re there. It’s confusing, I know, but trust me, it’s rough.

We lose our patience and break for the door, but it’s locked! Son of a Bitch left us out do dry!!

‘CLICK’

“Oh thank God Johnny, you’re here.”

The three of us go in. Triple bolt that son of a bitch to keep the fucking ghosts out!

We sidle up to the bar, but it’s not quite right. There’s the bar, that’s okay. There’s plenty of variety of beer on tap, and the lighting seems right. So what the fuck is wrong?

“Hey Chief, I think something is seriously fucking wrong.”

“Jesus Dave, slow down. Here, drink this, it’ll calm you the fuck down!”

After taking down a few glasses of The Chief’s magic drink, I’m able to get my thoughts straight. “Hey Johnny, why did we mee..” As I turned, I realized for the first time that Johnny was not the man that had opened the door for us, rescuing us from The Ghosts. It turns out that this saint among men is neither my confidant or my lawyer. But he saved us nonetheless. Before I can get an explanation of who this mystery man is, he wisks The Chief and I into the back.

“Holy Sh – Where the fuck are we!?”



“This, my friends, is where God’s piss comes from.”

The Chief was lost in a state of awe and wonder – and drunkenness. Me? I was just confused.

“But fine sir, how the fuck does God piss into these things?”


He looks at me, shakes his head in that poor-little-unknowing-child kind of way and walks out of the room. I’m dumbfounded, I can’t wrap my simple-fuck of a mind around this whole thing. I slap The Chief, “We need to be back at the bar, NOW!”

We’re head back towards the bar, when a small door busts open right behind us. Jesus man, I really do need another drink. It’s our helpful little friend. “Get in here!”

He slams the door behind us and tells us to be quiet, “The fucking ghosts got in and we’ve got to flush those bastards out!” Now, as he’s yelling this, he’s nervously looking over a control panel that has so many knobs, switches, lights, and words, that I wasn’t really sure if I was seeing double or not. Or triple.

That’s when The Chief takes over. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

He’s sprinting up and down along the wall, reading and rereading instructions, manuals, and for Christ sake, the Bible. I’ve never seen a man, not on handfuls of pills, so possessed. Then he stops, and begins to cackle. Oh fuck, he’s lost it.

“I’ve got you beat you stupid fuck! Get ready to say hi to the bad guy!”

And then he does it,

And all shit breaks loose.

There’s a rumbling deep from within the ground, and we run! Door after door, we fly away from the giant beasts we’d awoken – The Ghosts forgotten, for now. The noise is getting louder and louder, and I’m running blindly for my life at this point. We’ve got the Devil’s attention now motherfuckers! One second I’m running, the next I’m flat on my back, head ringing, room spinning like it does the mornings I wake up after spending a night swimming in whiskey. What the fuck just happened!? I stand up and see my mysterious new friend standing next to me, staring in amazement. I look to see what he’s lost in.



“Holy fucking Christ!”

I leave my new friend to behold his wonder and continue on my escape from The Beast. I’m getting the fuck out of here. Hey, where’s The Chief? I pelt down a long hallway, surrounded by doors, I can only hope and pray that I choose the right one. The first three are dark. Only evil sits alone in the dark. The last door on the right is lit up, so I’ve found my exit – I hope. The contents of the room bring me to a halt.




Before I have time to register what I’m seeing, I hear a noise. It sounds like something that ‘s smacking it’s lips, or eating it’s prey. Oh Christ, I’ve found The Beast! As I slowly make my way around the corner, the noise becomes louder and more intense. Jesus, it sound like The Beast drinks it’s prey. I come around the last corner and peer into the dimly lit corner.




“Holy fuck! What the fuck are you doing!?” It’s The Chief!



“It tastes so good, when it hits your lips!”


Oh fuck it all...

I grab The Chief by the collar and race towards the door – the one that say ‘Exit,’ smash it open, and we’re blinded by white light.

The next thing I know we’re in the Gorilla Lounge, the Twins on the television, and we’re soaking wet. But we’re safe. It was a long climb, but we survived The Summit Assault and made it back safely.

I think...