"Before we reach our destination, I've got to make a stop and pick up0 a fellow by the name of Shaky Joe. Don't worry, he's cool, I just have some merchandise I'd like to acquire."
The majority present understood the euphemism spoken by the famous mouth and did not speak up whether from acceptance or fear was to be seen.
The limo came to a halt in the middle of the Arizona Desert. The moment the door opened, the cool night air rushed in like a weary traveler, blanketing the unexpected crowd in chills. Jaime arrived back to the vehicle in short time, followed by a ragged fellow who, without a doubt had to be Shaky Joe. Mr Joe, Shaky to those who knew him well, wore the most interesting combination of Armani jacket, a blood stained shirt that barely fit with the words "Frankie Says Relax", corduroy pants with patches sewn espousing a number of beliefs including the phrase "Homophobia's for Faggots," and a pair of Converse sneakers. By far the most notable aspect of Shaky was his smell. It was as if he liquefied garbage, tossed in a three week old, sunbathed corpse and bathed in it. It took everything in their collective power not to vomit.
Thankfully, Mr. Erowid had a bag of samples, leftovers from a salesman that had tried to pitch some product placement for his next movie. Sensing his audience wasn't terribly thrilled with their new guest, he proceeded to douse Shaky Joe with several bottles of WHAT WHAT and in no time, Shaky Joe went from smelling rancid to that of a frat house.
Shaky Joe, on the other hand wasn't terribly thrilled.
"Get that commie stench off me. I like smelling natural."
"Yeah well natural for you is vomit inducing."
"So? Vomiting's good for the soul. Cleanses the palette, really purges yer shit out."
"Anyway, this is a gang I picked up. A bunch of college students in the middle of the desert, can you believe that? This is Joe, Mali, Casey, Gordon........and fuck what was your name? Toy the one who hasn't looked at either of us since getting in."
"Well there you go. Quite the judgmental one isn't he?"
"Like you wouldn't believe," Gordon chimed in, satisfied at knowing he conversed with someone famous.
"I don't care about him, I want Joe. That's my fuckin' name you hear me, you haven't earned it. You get some wings then come fuckin' talk to me."
In an attempt to change the subject, Joe inquired about Shaky's attire, most noticeably his shirt and jacket.
"Well, I purchased this jacket because I know that anytime I could die and I'll be damned if I'm going out without looking nice. The shirt? Well, the bitch didn't even know what it meant, let's leave it at that. Whatever, you're all lost sheep anyway, just let ole Shaky be yer shepherd."
A short transaction later and Shaky sat across from the rest, situated like a composer to his orchestra.
"So Joe, these fellows have a rule, tell us a story."
"A story eh? Right right, let me tell you some facts about God, kids. Not a God, the God. The motherfuckin' almighty. See, like three hours ago, I'm talking to this angel, one of the fucking seraphim you know, the top breed and those fuckers r' chatty as hell. So we're talking and I ask him about why all these fucks think Gays are bad, gay this and gay that, abomination, sin against god, blah blah blah. So this angel tells me as we're riding the night sky for some melted candles and paperweights that God actually made a gay hole originally."
"No fuckin' way." Gordon burst out before covering his mouth.
"So I'm like what, to this horse faced winged slut and he goes yeah a gay hole. He put it right on the taint. Had a zipper n' everything. He said it was supposed to function for those who were genetically different, needed relief or were predisposed, like in jail, or off on a holy war or some shit. It was clean so no poop dick and when it expanded, the asshole closed, can you imagine? No one would say shit about Gays then, this place would be one giant fuck fest. I asked about the chicks and all the angel said was "scissor me timbers." I thought that was a little sexist but it turns out God likes dudes. They don't tell you that shit in Sunday school, but God was a fuckin' butt bunny. He'd have angels gang bangin him all the time, and there was the problem.
After adding the gay hole, no one got shit done. People, angels, God himself was fucking all the time. They couldn't stop it. The gay hole squeezed the juice out of every fucking being. Hell, the devil was getting pissed because nothing evil was happening, people were just fucking. For years the average day went:
So the angel takes me to the local Discoteka and tells me that God had enough. His gay hole was sore and the choirs were drained. He looked down on his creation, saw that shit wasn't getting done so he took the gay hole away. The people were sad and returned to what they were doing before: working and dying. God was pissed even more at the angels for not saying shit, so he took their dicks away.
This angel's trying to feed me this line that he used to be hung like crazy, like pushes the peek the human body can take. I call his bluff and tell that fairy to drop his pants. Nothin', can you believe that, like a fuckin' Ken doll.
So basically angels ruined Gays and to earn the gay hole back, a million gay guys gotta fuck at once, so I'm spreadin' the word. It isn't Shaky Joe anymore, it's Reverend Haberdasher, now you kids tell all yer friends. Help earn yer Gay Hole.
Now that I've filled the kids with some knowledge, I've got a little somethin' else you might be interested in Mr. Erowid. I got PCP three hours ago from this guy who's heading up to Burning Man. If ya want some...."
"No thanks Reverend Haberdasher....wait did you say Burning Man? F'n A Cot, fuck Tempe, you kids want to go to Burning Man?"
"Damn right we would," Gordon's sentiments echoed in Mali and Casey's smile. Joe nodded approvingly and Parker sat aloof, unaware of what Burning Man was but kept to himself, resigned to the fact that his opinion didn't matter. Noticing Parker's face, Mali handed him her portable device with a wikipedia entry opened to the appropriate page.
Dropping the newly christened Revered off, Jaime felt the need to celebrate.
"Who wants drinks?"