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Late, Late Night at the Convenience Store with Ex Treme with him being all extreme and such
Guess Starring Shitface
Is there any better place to be at 3 AM in the morning than your favorite convenient store? Or is it convenience store? Hmm. That is a term ponderance I will have to be revisiting at some point in the near or not so near future.
Ex Treme is a very interesting guy. His real name is Alexander but most of the time he goes by that funny name. His mother calls him Xander I think. His sister calls him Asshole, though. But I prefer Ex Treme since I am a good buddy of his and most of his good buddies refer to him by that name. So I was at the convenient/convenience store with him, the Speedstop up at the corner of Mike and Hunt Streets.
"I'm extreeeemely hungry, Dude!" he had yelled to me while we were playing X-Box in his basement. It was an extreme sports game, of course. That's all he seems to want to play. This was an unusual one, though. It was called Extreme Muff Diving. I'm not sure it was an officially licensed X-Box game, though.
So anyway, I agreed, I was quite famished myself. There definitely needed to be some mastifications going on. We paused it and hopped into Ex Treme's Xterra and he floored it up into Mike/Hunt.
"That was extreeeeemely fast!" he roared at the top of his lungs, turning to me, his face extremely screamified. "Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
At that point I feared for his health. A few veins on his forehead below his spiked up blonde hair looked to be at their blood pressure capacities. Oh and by the way, to save myself some extra typing, I don't want to wear out my 'o' key or my fingers, that Whooo-ing in the previous paragraph, I think it went on for about three minutes or so. It was the longest whoooing I think I'd ever experienced. I thought by the time he had finished that his head was going to explode.
Unfortunately after he was finished with that whooing, he must have not been satisfied yet so he whooed, very loudly, for another... must have been two minutes or so. His yellified voice bandoozled into the fresh early morning air and caused an owl perched on one of the lamposts to poop blood and many neighborhood dogs to begin howling.
"That was some extreme--" Well, I had wanted to say "That was some extreme whooing but could you please stop now?" but I was cut off by another few minutes of very loud whooing. I think my eardrums were permanently whooified that evening.
Finally when he was whooed out we extremely barged into the Speedstop. "Extreme shopping!!" he cried he ran up and down a few aisles, not grabbing a single item.
After Ex Treme ran around pointlessly for a few minutes I caught up to him and we actually did start our late-night convenient shopping. After grabbing several bags of fried potato products we headed to the coolers for some refreshment. Ex Treme plunged into it and immediately grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew, Mountain Dew Vault, that new Coke and Coffee thingy, and a Red Bull.
"Extreeeeeeeeme refreshment!" he exclaimed, awkwardly carrying them all under his arms. "Whoooooooooo!!!"
Then I heard a familiar voice from the back of the store.
"Holy Shatner scrotums!" the voice exclaimed. It could be nobody else but the wise, old, cooky Shitface (real name Lou).
Ex Treme, who had never been formally introduced to the local night philosopher, suddenly stopped looking extreme and for a brief instant actually looked puzzled. Obviously he didn't understand Shitface's ultra short oral dissertation on the detrimental effects, physical and emotional, of the male sexual psyche while in deep space for long periods of time.
I was about to explain that to my perplexed pal when he suddenly resumed his extremeness: "MOUNTAIN DEW RULLLLLLES!" Then he popped his Dew open and began drinking it. Actually, drinking is not the right word here. Showering might be better. With some drinking.
I grabbed a simple bottle of Coca-Cola. That would do me. "Having fun?" I asked Ex Treme afterwards.
"EXTREME FUN!" Ex Treme yelled. I hoped he'd planned on paying for it.
"I HAVE EXTREME BALLLLLLLZZ!" Shitface yelled from the back, or wherever he was. All of a sudden I could hear him grunting. I wondered what he was doing.
I strolled on over to the counter - Ex Treme stomped - and began putting our items in front of the clerk by the scanner.
"You're a loud bunch," the clerk mumbled.
"I'm Ex Treeeme!" Ex Treme exclaimed. "I'm into extreme skateboarding, extreme skiing, and... and... well, just EVERYTHING EXTREME!!" His face got all screamified again and Dew droplets began escaping his hair and nose.
"Extreme Shit Flinging!" Shitface yelled. Suddenly a wet turd splatted on the wall near the coffee bar to our left.
"Aw, that's fucking gross!" the clerk, a thirtyish guy with a beard, exclaimed. "God dammit!"
"Holy... shit!" Ex Treme said, the rare literalness of what he was about to mutter probably causing his hesitation.
"And the horse he rode in on!" I said, grinning. They looked at me funnily. It took me a second to realize that perhaps it was because this had nothing to do with horses. I hate it when I screw jokes up.
"Extreme fartshitting!" I heard Shitface's voice yell again. Then we all heard a "FRRRREEEEEEEEEEEET!" then a big "PLOP!"
"The god damn son of a bitch!" the clerk yelled. "Almost every fuckin night...!" He trailed off as he turned and reached for something behind the racks of cigarettes.
Suddenly I saw a stream of yellowish liquid arc from below the toiletries aisle. "Urine trouble now!" I heard Shitface's voice yell.
"That guy's EXTREMELY sick!" Ex Treme yelled. "EXTREME!" Then he began pouring the Vault into his mouth and all over his face. Then he yelled "EXTREME!!!" while shaking it off as if he were a dog.
The clerk emerged from behind the counter wielding a baseball bat. I wondered why he suddenly was thinking about taking in a spirited game of ball. As there was nobody else tending the store, I doubted his shift was over.
"Oh no!" I cried when I saw him run for the back of the store. I got a funny feeling that he meant to do my good friend Shitface some harm.
"Extreme Bum Batting!" Ex Treme exclaimed. "Whoooooo hooooooooooooooooooo!"
"That's my friend!" I yelled at Ex Treme.
"Albert Pullmyballzz!" Shitface yelled as he ran by us after popping out of the auto care aisle. He was wearing nothing but an old torn up old Metallica shirt and sneakers. The clerk was indeed after him with the bat.
"God dammit I told you never to come into this store again you fuckwad!" he yelled.
"Hey I read your sign!" Shitface yelled as he ducked into the candy aisle. I wondered what sign he was referring to.
"Get the hell outta my store!" the clerk screamed. Shitface began cackling.
"I'm the Kool Aid Man!" Shitface yelled as he suddenly barelled through one line of shelves, sending bread products everywhere. "Kool Aid balls! Kool Aid balls! Tang rectum!"
"Motherfucker!" the clerk yelled as he vaulted over the spilled items and took a swing at Shitface. Fortunately he missed.
"EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME!" Ex Treme yelled, seeming to be extremely pleased.
"I'm a pinch shitter!" Shitface exclaimed before cackling some more and knocking into the donut cart. He narrowly missed another swing by the clerk.
I guess Shitface thought that one was too close and he scampered out of the store. He jumped into his old, rusty Monte Carlo and sped off into the night as the clerk pumped his fist into the air and yelled "NEVER COME BACK!"
The clerk calmed down and finally checked us out. Once we were in Ex Treme's car we spotted Shitface doing some doughnuts in the middle of Hunt Street.
"He's extremely off the hook!" Ex Treme said.
"And," I sighed, a slight grin on my face, "he's extremely my friend."
"You got some messed up friends, dude," Ex Treme said. Then he turned his Slipknot CD on, turned the volume all the way up, and began banging his head on the dashboard.
I think the owl pooped blood again.