Saturday, September 15, 2007
Where the fuck is everybody?
Jesus, I come back from my Jail/Crack Whore/Road Trip, and the Hospital is empty. No patients, no staff, and I found nothing but rats and roaches eating cheetos in the administratative offices.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Sharky Takes a Road Trip
OK. Given all of the "drama" I've had in my life over the past few days, it is obvious that I need a break. I've decided that the best course of action at this point is to load up all of the drugs I can find and go on a road trip before Jane and Buckethead force me to come back to work or demand explanations for my activities over the past week. Kinda clear the decks mentally.... Almost everybody who goes to the mats gets beaten, one way or another, but not all of us gets broken… But I digress. Anyway, I thought you might like my booking photo.
Perhaps you are wondering how I was able to get our of jail without paying the $100,000 bond or coughing up a kidney or something. It was so easy that it’s almost not worth mentioning. My first attempt was a brutally ignorant escape attempt and that’s what led me to being placed on lockdown. I traded a carton of Pal Mal's for an old cop uniform my cellmate used when he stripped at La Bare. I put it on and tried to walk out. Unfortunately, someone noticed that I was wearing beach baggies and flip-flops. What a dumb-ass I can be sometimes.
The next time, I did it right. I claimed to be severely bleeding from my rectum, and when they took me down to sick bay, I snuck into a Janitor’s Closet and was befriended by a Rastafarian named Jibbie, who hid me among a group of Jamaican nationals until I was finally rolled out of the jail in a Janitors Cart. All this for less then a quarter pound of the finest Ganja. In an interesting twist of fate, I ate so much Jerk Chicken before leaving town, that I am now actually bleeding from the rectum….
My first night on the road, I stopped at a small seedy hotel in Lake Charles Louisiana that was owned by a small Asian man named When or Yen of some shit like that. After obtaining a room at a hideously high price for someone on the lam, the night clerk agreed to accept twenty American dollars for the company of his daughter for the rest of the night (although all I was trying to get was a room). He described her as a “young and beautiful student – not a bar girl” who spoke excellent English and would certainly have no objection to being awakened at three in the morning and hauled over to the hotel by taxi in a hellish rainstorm, just in order to “make me happy – long time.”
“Look,” I said. “You are dealing with a very tired person. The only thing I need to make me happy is a long sleep in a big bed with nobody bothering me. I have nothing against meeting your daughter; I’m sure she’s a wonderful person and all – but why don’t I just give you twenty dollars and never mind about waking her up tonight. If she’s free around noon tomorrow, maybe we can have lunch at the Hi-De-Ho.”
The man winced. Nobody’s “daughter” goes near the Hi-De-Ho. It is one of the scurviest and most infamous shitholes in all of Lake Charles – even worse than the infamous “Lucy’s” in Saigon – and the moment I said the name and saw the man’s face, I knew I’d said both the right and the wrong thing at the same time. He was grievously insulted, but at least we understood each other. So he had one of his assistant pimps carry my bag up to my room. I asked he bellman if he would get me a bucket of ice. Somewhere in the bowels of my scant luggage I had a film-cannister full of extremely powerful Cambodian Red Pot, along with a quart of Jack Daniel’s, a handful of Ritalin tablets, and the prospect of a few iced drinks along with a pipeload of paralytic hallucinogens seemed just about right for that moment……followed by fifteen or sixteen hours of stuporous sleep.
I blew a large hole in the hotel floor with my .40 Sig the next morning – a hideous accident caused by a mixture of gunpowder and LSD. The hotel guests in the room below me left at once. The slug tore through the hardwood floor, the sub-flooring and made hash of the acoustical ceiling tile in their room just below me. They told the manager that it sounded like a bomb was being dropped on them. When the Manager came to my room to investigate the ruckus, I answered the door in a cheap bathrobe that was about 2 sizes too small, with a Pal Mal between my teeth, a bottle of cheap Tequila in my hand, and my gun tucked into the robe. I asked where the fucking candy machine was.
The next time, I did it right. I claimed to be severely bleeding from my rectum, and when they took me down to sick bay, I snuck into a Janitor’s Closet and was befriended by a Rastafarian named Jibbie, who hid me among a group of Jamaican nationals until I was finally rolled out of the jail in a Janitors Cart. All this for less then a quarter pound of the finest Ganja. In an interesting twist of fate, I ate so much Jerk Chicken before leaving town, that I am now actually bleeding from the rectum….
My first night on the road, I stopped at a small seedy hotel in Lake Charles Louisiana that was owned by a small Asian man named When or Yen of some shit like that. After obtaining a room at a hideously high price for someone on the lam, the night clerk agreed to accept twenty American dollars for the company of his daughter for the rest of the night (although all I was trying to get was a room). He described her as a “young and beautiful student – not a bar girl” who spoke excellent English and would certainly have no objection to being awakened at three in the morning and hauled over to the hotel by taxi in a hellish rainstorm, just in order to “make me happy – long time.”
“Look,” I said. “You are dealing with a very tired person. The only thing I need to make me happy is a long sleep in a big bed with nobody bothering me. I have nothing against meeting your daughter; I’m sure she’s a wonderful person and all – but why don’t I just give you twenty dollars and never mind about waking her up tonight. If she’s free around noon tomorrow, maybe we can have lunch at the Hi-De-Ho.”
The man winced. Nobody’s “daughter” goes near the Hi-De-Ho. It is one of the scurviest and most infamous shitholes in all of Lake Charles – even worse than the infamous “Lucy’s” in Saigon – and the moment I said the name and saw the man’s face, I knew I’d said both the right and the wrong thing at the same time. He was grievously insulted, but at least we understood each other. So he had one of his assistant pimps carry my bag up to my room. I asked he bellman if he would get me a bucket of ice. Somewhere in the bowels of my scant luggage I had a film-cannister full of extremely powerful Cambodian Red Pot, along with a quart of Jack Daniel’s, a handful of Ritalin tablets, and the prospect of a few iced drinks along with a pipeload of paralytic hallucinogens seemed just about right for that moment……followed by fifteen or sixteen hours of stuporous sleep.
I blew a large hole in the hotel floor with my .40 Sig the next morning – a hideous accident caused by a mixture of gunpowder and LSD. The hotel guests in the room below me left at once. The slug tore through the hardwood floor, the sub-flooring and made hash of the acoustical ceiling tile in their room just below me. They told the manager that it sounded like a bomb was being dropped on them. When the Manager came to my room to investigate the ruckus, I answered the door in a cheap bathrobe that was about 2 sizes too small, with a Pal Mal between my teeth, a bottle of cheap Tequila in my hand, and my gun tucked into the robe. I asked where the fucking candy machine was.
....maybe this road trip isn't as healing as I thought it would be. And to top it all off, I just realized that Propecia the Crack Whore stole my credit cards. Now I'm really fucked.....
-Captain Sharky
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Out of Jail and in Serious Trouble....
Please help me; I'm totally out of control....
-Captain Sharky
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Sharky has Fallen Off the Wagon.....
As many of you may have surmised by now, Sharky's sudden sobriety was doomed to only last for so long. This afternoon, Sharky's Press Agent released the following statement.
"After drinking alcohol and ingesting massive illegal chemical substances on Tuesday night, Captain Sharky did a number of things that were very wrong and for which he is deeply ashamed. Captain Sharky drove a car when he should not have, and was stopped by the County sheriffs. Inside the car, arresting officers found several transvestite midgets and blow up dolls, several kilos of assorted recreational drugs, bananas, hairbrushes, and a Silverback Ape from the local zoo. Captain Sharky has repeatedly stated that the arresting officer was "just doing his job," and he "feels fortunate that he was apprehended before he caused injury to another person, animal or vinyl doll." Captain Sharky stated while in the pokey, "I acted like a person completely out of control when I was arrested, and said things that I do not believe to be true and which are despicable. I am deeply ashamed of everything I said. Also, I take this opportunity to apologize to the deputies involved for my belligerent behavior. They have always been there for me in my community and indeed probably saved me from myself. I disgraced myself and my fellow employees at Hospital World with my behavior and for that I am truly sorry. I have battled the disease of alcoholism and drug abuse for all of my adult life and profoundly regret my horrific relapse. I apologize for any behavior unbecoming of me in my inebriated state and have already taken necessary steps to ensure my return to health."
At press time, Captain Sharky remains in the County Jail under $100,000 bond.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Rollin' in the Ghetto
Back to my ritualistic post-kill ritual. I'm back in the 'hood and my speakas' be thumpin'. Today I listen to Snoop Dogg.
*man pissing*Heah hah hah!Im serious nigga one of yall niggaz got this ass motherfuckin up
Aiy baby, aiy baby... aiy baby get some bubblegum in this motherfucker
Steady long, steady long nigga
Alright! Now any song that starts with "man pissing" can only get better. Its simply a sign of whats to come. Snoop nevers shoots his wad during the first couple of lines......
With so much drama in the l-b-c
Its kinda hard bein snoop d-o-double-g
But i, somehow, some way
Keep comin up with funky ass shit like every single day
May i, kick a little something for the gs (yeah)
And, make a few ends as (yeah!) I breeze, through
Two in the mornin and the partys still jumpin
Cause my momma aint home
I got bitches in the living room gettin it on
And, they aint leavin til six in the mornin (six in the mornin)
So what you wanna do, sheeeit
I got a pocket full of rubbers and my homeboys do too
So turn off the lights and close the doors
But (but what) we dont love them hoes, yeah!
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
Gs up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
Man, I TOLD you this shit was going to be kickin'. "G's up, Ho's Down..." - this man CLEARLY knows his target audience. He don't need no Rand Corporation or or Healthcare Concepts Company telling him who he is targeting. Even when he smokes an ounce, which is a considerable amount of dope, Snoop is still on his game, coming up with funky ass shit like every single day.
Even the gangstas that just rolled up on me at the traffic light be hoppin to these scandalous lines.
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juiceLaid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
You damned skippy! (English translation: You said it all!).
Now, that, I got me some seagrams gin
Everybody got they cups, but they aint chipped in
Now this types of shit, happens all the time
You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine
Everything is fine when you listenin to the d-o-g
I got the cultivating music that be captivating he
Who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street
And get to mackin to this bitch named sadie (sadie? )
She used to be the homeboys lady (oh, that bitch)
Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please
Raise up off these n-u-ts, cause you gets none of these
At ease, as I mob with the dogg pound, feel the breeze
Beeeitch, Im just
DAMN, Snoop be testifying up in here. I don't even understand the shit he be spittin' out, but I'm sure it has something to do with moochers and hookin' up with the local ho.
Rollin' down the street, smoking Indo, sippin' on gin and juice Laid Back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
He do be speaking the truth. When I smoke Indo and sip on Gin and Juice, my mind is clearly on my money, and my money is therefore (by default, almost) on my mind.
Later on that day
My homey dr. dre came through with a gang of tanqueray
And a fat ass j, of some bubonic chronic that made me choke
Shit, this aint no jokeI had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic, yeah Im fucked up now
But it aint no stoppin, Im still poppin
Dre got some bitches from the city of compton
To serve me, not with a cherry on top
Cause when I bust my nut, Im raisin up off the cot
Dont get upset girl, thats just how it goes
I dont love you hoes, Im out the do'
And Ill be
As you may have clearly surmised by now, Dr. Dre is not my homey, nor has he ever brought pot or booze to my crib. And those baby mamas from Compton are just a tad bit too scary for the old Sharky. But the last part is classic Snoop - "I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do'". I love it......
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice (beeotch!!)Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice (beeotch!!)Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Yo, dawg, that be some straight up shit. Snoop always makes me feel empowered. When I summon up the strength to do something I'd rather not do (like ask for a raise, or something of the sort), I listen to Snoop to get my nerve up. Makes me feel better about cappin' somebody's ass as an added benefit.
I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do'.
- Captain Sharky
*man pissing*Heah hah hah!Im serious nigga one of yall niggaz got this ass motherfuckin up
Aiy baby, aiy baby... aiy baby get some bubblegum in this motherfucker
Steady long, steady long nigga
Alright! Now any song that starts with "man pissing" can only get better. Its simply a sign of whats to come. Snoop nevers shoots his wad during the first couple of lines......
With so much drama in the l-b-c
Its kinda hard bein snoop d-o-double-g
But i, somehow, some way
Keep comin up with funky ass shit like every single day
May i, kick a little something for the gs (yeah)
And, make a few ends as (yeah!) I breeze, through
Two in the mornin and the partys still jumpin
Cause my momma aint home
I got bitches in the living room gettin it on
And, they aint leavin til six in the mornin (six in the mornin)
So what you wanna do, sheeeit
I got a pocket full of rubbers and my homeboys do too
So turn off the lights and close the doors
But (but what) we dont love them hoes, yeah!
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
Gs up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
Man, I TOLD you this shit was going to be kickin'. "G's up, Ho's Down..." - this man CLEARLY knows his target audience. He don't need no Rand Corporation or or Healthcare Concepts Company telling him who he is targeting. Even when he smokes an ounce, which is a considerable amount of dope, Snoop is still on his game, coming up with funky ass shit like every single day.
Even the gangstas that just rolled up on me at the traffic light be hoppin to these scandalous lines.
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juiceLaid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
You damned skippy! (English translation: You said it all!).
Now, that, I got me some seagrams gin
Everybody got they cups, but they aint chipped in
Now this types of shit, happens all the time
You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine
Everything is fine when you listenin to the d-o-g
I got the cultivating music that be captivating he
Who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street
And get to mackin to this bitch named sadie (sadie? )
She used to be the homeboys lady (oh, that bitch)
Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please
Raise up off these n-u-ts, cause you gets none of these
At ease, as I mob with the dogg pound, feel the breeze
Beeeitch, Im just
DAMN, Snoop be testifying up in here. I don't even understand the shit he be spittin' out, but I'm sure it has something to do with moochers and hookin' up with the local ho.
Rollin' down the street, smoking Indo, sippin' on gin and juice Laid Back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
He do be speaking the truth. When I smoke Indo and sip on Gin and Juice, my mind is clearly on my money, and my money is therefore (by default, almost) on my mind.
Later on that day
My homey dr. dre came through with a gang of tanqueray
And a fat ass j, of some bubonic chronic that made me choke
Shit, this aint no jokeI had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic, yeah Im fucked up now
But it aint no stoppin, Im still poppin
Dre got some bitches from the city of compton
To serve me, not with a cherry on top
Cause when I bust my nut, Im raisin up off the cot
Dont get upset girl, thats just how it goes
I dont love you hoes, Im out the do'
And Ill be
As you may have clearly surmised by now, Dr. Dre is not my homey, nor has he ever brought pot or booze to my crib. And those baby mamas from Compton are just a tad bit too scary for the old Sharky. But the last part is classic Snoop - "I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do'". I love it......
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice (beeotch!!)Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice (beeotch!!)Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Yo, dawg, that be some straight up shit. Snoop always makes me feel empowered. When I summon up the strength to do something I'd rather not do (like ask for a raise, or something of the sort), I listen to Snoop to get my nerve up. Makes me feel better about cappin' somebody's ass as an added benefit.
I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do'.
- Captain Sharky
That fucking little green midget UnaCrapper is Still Alive!!
Sonofabitch! I just realized that I didn't actually kill that little slimy green bastard UnaCrapper. I went up into the ceiling crawlspace, and there was all these empty bottles of KY, Vodka bottles, and a film projector with the following film running. I must have just missed his little punk-ass, or he heard me coming.
Alright, you little bastard, WATCH YOUR BACK!!!!!!!
-Captain Sharky
Alright, you little bastard, WATCH YOUR BACK!!!!!!!
-Captain Sharky
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