Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Helen Hunt Ain't Got Shit on Me.

Helen Hunt ain’t got S$#@ on me…
Occurred-May 2005
By Frank Andrews
        Ever had an “oh-my fucking god” moment? I don’t mean when you might have been raw-dogging some country bumpkin whilst failing realizing that you were faster on the trigger than you imagined and are now stuck with the STD called O.C.S. (Owing Child Support). I mean those moments that make you truly realize that you are merely a cockroach being flushed down a toilet. The ones that make you realize that Billy Corgin of the Smashing Pumpkins was right and you really just a rat in a cage. You start realizing Tyler Durden wasn’t bullshitting Edward Norton while burning his hand  with an industrial chemical. You suddenly know that you going to die someday and there is nothing you can do about it. However you can survive shit like this and leave behind some awesome stories like what you will read in the following:

           I was riding back from lunch with PapaFrank in his tow truck at this place called TBONZ (seriously try the cheese fries). We were riding back to get my 86’ BMW 325i from the tow shop that he worked at. I LOVED that fucking car. I would tear ass all over downtown in it like it was Need for Speed while delivering Korean food. It was like the labial off shoot of the Mach 5. It was so fast mainly because it was so light (bear that in mind). I was as happy as a bee in honey, Then I saw some DARK clouds as we were riding over the North Bridge which connects North Charleston to West Ashley. Typical for spring time in Charleston except these clouds were different. By different I mean blacker and more ominous than a pissed off Michael Clark Duncan.
They were more intimidating than going to a free clinic after spending a summer in Thailand. I mean these clouds were gnarlier (I think that’s a word) than King Leonidas in full battle armor. My anxiety was compounded by the fact these clouds were heading in our general direction. Seriously it was the meteorological equivalent of the emergence of a sebaceous cyst except it was looking far less benign. We figured that we had plenty of time to get to my car before the weather would get crazy. Besides my car was designed for racing so I could outrun the storm. As we got closer to the shop the clouds kept on creeping on us like a cop trying to fill a quota. Shit was getting scary. I felt like Bill Paxton noticing a change in air pressure as I ran to my car.

I fumbled with the door handle…

I got it open…

I pulled the motherfucker shut fast enough to confuse Wily Coyote…..

I took a deep breath for a second…

Put the key in the ignition….


Ladies and gentleman we have just lost cabin pressure (Thank you David Fincher)

It’s times like this that you realize at best you are merely a speck on the universal scale and that nature has your nuts in a sling at all times. It was calm before I put the key in the ignition to haul ass but I cant do that now because I’m getting rocked in my car by 90 MPH winds that are rocking me in what seemed like Storm from the X-Men was having a Madea moment.
SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK IS THS?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I can’t even get my bearings straight as these winds were rocking my light weight piece of German engineering. Not only that but these winds were rotating in a circular fashion which I could tell from the dust and dirt that got kicked up in what seemed like an instant. PapaFrank was in his tow truck which I could barely see the headlights from even though his truck was a mere 10 feet from me. It kind of felt like that scene in Snatch when the Piker blew Brick Top's head off with a sawed-off shotty while Turkish described it as, "You're life doesn't flash before your eyes because you are too fucking scared to think." Now I could relate. I didn't even pray. I was in utter shock and awe of whatever this was.

Then out of no where it stopped.....

There was an eerie silence again except for the faint sound of wind behind me...

I turned around and looked through my back window...

There was a fucking tornado in the parking lot of the strip club, Southern Belle, next to the tow shop. Allow me to repeat that, A FUCKING TORNADO!!!!!. Not only that but it appears that it touched down on my car, WITH ME IN IT. Now I know I'm kind of sounding like Jeff Goldblum in a Jurrasic Park movie but fuck him. He's only acted in surviving near death experiences. I JUST SURVIVED A FUCKING TORNADO IN A CAR. It’s like I won the Natural Disaster Lottery. If you ask any meteorologist they will tell you that an automobile is the LAST place you should be since tornados have a habit of chucking them about like Charlie Sheen through a pack of Trojans at one of Hugh Hefner’s parties on an 8 Ball. The only thing that would have been worse would have been a double wide from a trailer park filled broken glass and nitroglycerin.

I’m not kidding. Not only was I encompassed in a man made death trap composed of steel. I was surrounded by other other mechanicall engineering that could have been turned into airborne missiles had this twister only been higher than the mere F-1 that puckered my rectum. It was like that scene in The Walking Dead where Shane was trapped in that school bus surrounded by walkers (zombies) only to be saved by Rick Grimes a.k.a.. the grace of God.

After God’s finger totally fondled my soul and sense of self worth I FINALLY turned the key and revved the ignition. I looked at an equally shocked PapaFrank and pulled out of the parking lot as it just started pouring down rain. As I drove home I was still in a state of utter shock.
Let’s take an account of what had transpired:

-I was in the middle of a tornado albeit a weak one but still an appendage of death none the less…
-I survived in a German engineered tomb
-Do I really need to keep on explaining why I should be worm food?
After what seemed like an eternity of contemplating my existence whilst rolling down Highway 17 and Mathis Ferry onto Whipple Rd I finally arrived home safe and sound. All of my vital functions intact to make me realize that this it was ALL real. The fact that shitty television was on made me realize that in fact it really was a Saturday afternoon. Not just any Saturday afternoon. A Saturday afternoon where I survived being touched down on by a FUCKING TORNADO. Suck my dick Helen Hunt (seriously Helen, I have dreamed about it ever since you posed nude for Greg Kinnear in As Good As it Gets).
As I am watching the weather reports on the news the meteorologist laid down this little tidbit of information:

Meteorologist: “We have reports of a tornado having touched down somewhere by I-26”
For those unfamiliar with Charleston my dad’s shop is in the red light district which translated to Charleston speak is the “industrial” zone. It’s basically Bible Belt lingo for “the strip clubs are that way”. It also means that it is basically kitty corner to I-26. YEA, I had a PRETTY good idea where that Donkey Punch from the Almighty touched down at.

On a fucking Ginger….

In an 86’ BMW 325i…..

And I won......

And bragged about it to everybody in IrishfratBar that night........

Hail to the king baby (Even though Jet Li still has shit on me since he survived that Tsunami)…….

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