i told you it was wrong, and other gambling disasters by Johnny St. Clair
as soon as i got my official
Faster
Than The
World
press credentials, i immediately called the Doktor to gloat. he said nothing
on the phone, which i initially took as rather rude even from his ignorant
ass. it seems that he dropped the phone and raced to my place with, among
other things, a tape recorder. he was very persuasive that we leave at once
and test the limits of my new found authority, or something like that. the
following is a vague recollection of the Super Bowl week.
DATELINE:
January 28, 2007. 11:58 PM. somewhere in
Pittsburgh.
i show him the press pass. “well?”
[strange rumblings,
broken glass, a few dull
thuds]
“you hit me with a
fuckin’
bat?”
“get your shoes on. we’ve got business to attend.”
“alright. fuck. where are we going?”
“Miami.”
“well, that’s all you had to say.”
DATELINE:
January 29, 2007. 8:03 AM. Portland,
Maine.
“welcome to…Portland? what the…Portland!”
“damm…this compass is worthless.”
“Portland? you drove to fuckin’ Portland?”
“well you were no help.”
“I WAS SLEEPING!!!”
“exactly. man i drive like Steve McQueen.”
DATELINE:
January 29, 2007. 2:17 PM. somewhere outside of
Philadelphia.
“license and
registration.”
“it’s cool, officer, seriously. johnny, show him the pass.”
DATELINE:
January 29, 2007. 2:19 PM. somewhere just a bit further outside of
Philadelphia.
“how come they’re chasing us.”
“relax. i bet it’s just a police escort. we’re like royalty.”
“you sure?”
“totally.”
“why are they behind us then?”
“i dunno. it’ll be a goddamm miracle if we make it there on time.”
DATELINE:
January 30, 2007. 12:27 AM. around Walterboro, South Carolina. i
think.
“here comes a pick-up. keep your thumb out and look sad.”
“what are we gonna do about my car?”
“sorry about that.”
“we can’t just leave it here, can we? i mean, it’s still on fire.”
“shut up and look sad. HEY!!! HEY!!!”
“you boys need a
ride?”
“yeah, we’ll take it as far as you’re goin’.”
“mmm hmmm. the other
one’s gotta ride in the back. but you ride up in the cab with me. you got a
pretty mouth,
boy.”
“whoa. johnny, show her the pass.”
“i don’t think i really need to.”
“you heard what she said.”
“yeah.”
“well?”
“well i don’t want to abuse my power, you know. so…”
“come on
boy.”
“i’ll be in the back if you need me.”
DATELINE:
January 30, 2007. 9:11 AM. on the dais at Dolphin Stadium,
Miami.
“yo…we made it. meet the press, motherfuckers.”
“wow…look at all the cameras and shit.”
“HEY!!!”
“it’s cool…we’ve got credentials. check it out.”
“GET OFF OF THE STAGE
YOU TWO!!!”
“look…it’s Peyton Manning. hey Peyton. Peyton. yeah…a couple of questions for
ya. it’s ok, i’m with the press. seriously.”
“SECURITY!!!”
“yeah, uh, does the back of your hand smell from taking snaps under center? if
so, after about how many? and when is it the worst?”
DATELINE:
January 30, 2007. noon-ish. on the way to Miami-Dade county
jail.
“alright. remember…we can survive this.”
“what the fuck are you talking about? we’re going to the county for a few
hours.”
“don’t protest. it only makes them feel better.”
“what?”
“start growing your thumbnails.”
“look…i’ll call
[deleted],
he’s got a boat down here. if we’re lucky, he’ll post our bail once it’s set,
and in a few hours, we’ll be out.”
“man. as soon as we get in, i’m puttin’ some bread in the toilet and makin’
that jailhouse wine.”
DATELINE:
January 31, 2007. 3:26 AM. on the way out of Miami-Dade county
jail.
[breathes
deep] “you smell that
johnny?”
“no.”
“ah. that’s freedom.”
“damm…where’s my press pass?”
“don’t worry. contraband. i didn’t want The Man confiscating it. i took care
of it.”
“you did?”
“yeah. i’ll get it after we eat.”
DATELINE:
January 31, 2007. 7:33 AM. back in Miami. i
think.
“motel time…how about that one?”
“sure.”
“it’s close to the bus stop.”
“indeed it is.”
“where are we?”
“i don’t know.”
“las hojas sucias por
la playa.”
“wow. you’re all Spanish and shit.”
“yeah man.”
“sounds classy. must be a four-star.”
“wait until they see your press pass.”
“we’re gonna be like royalty here.”
DATELINE:
February 1, 2007. the less said about it, the
better.
DATELINE:
February 2, 2007. 10:45 PM. south
beach.
“i think we’re kinda early.”
“i know, but this is where he said.”
“i can’t believe Snoop said he’d hook us for this Playboy party. man…that
press pass is working wonders.”
“i didn’t tell him about that. he’s a big Steelers fan. me and Snoop go back.”
“how far back?”
“way back.”
“shhhh…act serious. Ladies, ladies, good evening.”
“they’re smiling. they must not understand English.”
“relax. i got this. now, Ladies, who wants to see if the groundhog in my pants
casts a shadow?”
DATELINE:
February 3, 2007. 4:32 PM. south
beach.
“listen, Officer, sir…i don’t know that guy at all.”
“well, he says you
came to Miami
together.”
“yeah, well, he’s a liar.”
“he said you guys are
down here covering the Super
Bowl.”
“we’re not…i mean we are. what i mean is, no one is supposed to know. it’s
highly confidential. top secret. Patriot Act-type shit, you know. but i told
him not to do it, ok. i told him, ‘you better not. you better not even touch
it,’ you know. but sometimes there’s no reasoning with him. he’s an animal.
the sooner you lock him up, the better.”
“he says you’ve got
some kind of press credentials, immunity from prosecution or
something-or-other.”
“i did…well, i do. but you don’t wanna get your hands on it. better that you
don’t even know. better that NO ONE knows about this, you know what i mean?
i’d hate for you to get the federalés on your back.”
“right.”
DATELINE:
February 4, 2007. 6:28 PM. Dolphin
Stadium.
"let's walk down this way."
"uh oh...be cool."
"hey look. it's Prince."
"oh shit...hey watch this. Prince. Prince, hey. Pancakes, bitches. ha Ha!!!"
"SECURITY!!!"
Somtimes is just best to not ask too many questions about Johnny
We're Gonna Be Using Aliases On This One.. Archives
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Comments
the dirty leaves by the beach?
am I reading that right?
sounds like an awesome hotel
Posted by: turtle | April 30, 2007 6:40 AM
I guess we forgot to tell you.
Those press passes are only good if you present a hundred dollar bill with them.
And while they are good for immunity, we can't be held responsible for what happens with the federales. Branden used up all our bail money already.
Posted by: michele | April 30, 2007 6:42 AM
Branden? We don't need no stinkin' Branden!
Posted by: turtle | April 30, 2007 6:54 AM
i plan on getting some more use out of the pass in the coming months. first, there's the Ween show, and then there might be an Insane Clown Posse fanclub gathering we'll be weasling our way into. both will obviously require psychedelics and a camera. the pass will lend us a certain sense of legitimacy. i almost thought about using it at the cockfights last weekend, but that would have been in poor taste and wildly unprofessional.
more on those things as they develop.
p.s. i was shooting for 'dirty sheets by the beach' but my girl only speaks Spanish and not Cuban.
Posted by: johnny | April 30, 2007 9:24 PM
I hope you infiltrating the ICP posse for shits and giggled and not because you're a juggalo. Because we'd have to revoke the pass if you're a juggalo.
"In poor taste and wildly unprofessional" is our unspoken motto.
Posted by: michele | May 1, 2007 5:53 AM
p.s. i was shooting for 'dirty sheets by the beach' but my girl only speaks Spanish and not Cuban.
hell, you are probably right. I only speak spanglish
Posted by: turtle | May 1, 2007 6:53 AM