Welcome to The Tribe.
Your Humble Ruler, Rajah Cheech Beldone, King of the Gypsies.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Yeah, sure, kid, whatever you say...

So I got this ancient Army shirt I wear sometimes.
It has, as it turns out, one of them O Cannibas patches

on one shoulder (I think the leaf on mine is green, but otherwise the same).
I'm sure most of you have seen it at one time or another.
I don't really notice it, and most of the time I forget it's there.

Anyways, a couple weeks ago, a Friday night, the Royal Family are at some concert or some fucking thing, I'm sitting outside a local convenience outlet on the Tumbler after knocking off, availing myself of a locally produced (under license) fermented grain beverage

(or maybe two).

Of course, I was experiencing the spiritual fulfillment of, more than likely, it being a Friday, a selection or two performed by the Brothers Young et al.

Only to point out that the obvious presence of earphones was somewhat ameliorating my normally friendly and welcoming demeanour.

Odds are pretty good that I was commensurately indulging my filthy tobacco habit as well, I should say.

Any fucking ways, suddenly there's this guy trying to talk to me, to my colossal annoyance.

I turn to look and see that he isn't, surprisingly, some orange hair/bad teeth/loud scooter punk, some drunken local puke reeking of shitty antler wine with binlang drool coursing out from between stained and rotting teeth, or the neighborhood retarded guy, those being about the only strangers who come up and try to engage me out of the blue.

No, it's amazingly, this normal (for here) looking kid, maybe 1st year University student.
You know the type, pencil neck, big glasses, maybe 150 pounds soaking wet with a hardon, spotless Nikes, cute little girlfriend with the body of an 8-year-old boy attached to him at the hip, pretty standard stuff.

So anyways I turn off my iPod, mostly out of curiosity, and kind of look at him.

And he sort of stutters out:
"Theese...theese peektcho..."
And he sort of points at my shoulder.
"Theese peektcho...bewwuee koo!"
Nodding and grinning like a madman the whole time.
And I look to see what he's indicating, and it's the patch on me shirt.
And I'm like "Ungh", not really knowing what to say, and he says, more confident now, what with me not biting him or anything, starting to show off for his wee girlie there, his Adam's apple doing a fuckin Mexican Hat Dance:
"Eeeess...weep, uh, yes?"
And I'm like thefuck?? and I go, like "Uhhh, sorry?"
And he says
"Theese peektcho...ees call WEEP, yes?"
A long confused pause ensues, and then I get it.

"Not WEEP, it's WEED. Wee-DUH. Weed."
"Weed! Ahhh, weed! Yes!! Ees bewwuee koo!!"
"Well...thanks. Nice of you to say."
"Sank you! Bye bye!"
And just like that he heads off with his girl, off for who knows what manner of Friday night debauchery.

One certainly hopes he was able to leverage his proven expertise in International Communications into receiving a Kay Parker handjob

Hope you all realize the dangers involved in procuring this image for you...

or bag of Doritos

or some fucking thing.


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