by Keef Rutledge on February 28, 2012

After I graduated from bartender school, I decided to take a very long road trip across the states. I didn’t have a car, so I enlisted my friend Peter, who had a 1955 Silver Porsche Spyder. After a few days on the road, his nasal snore and predilection for listening to Cannibal Corpse at top volume began to grate on me. When we stopped at the Country Kitchen so that he could urinate, I decided to leave him behind. I slammed the pedal down to the floor, threw my head back, and howled like a wolf. I made it about ten yards before I slammed the car into a semi trailer full of raw sewage. Peter came running out of the restaurant, pants around his ankles. I wrapped my feces-coated arms around him and we laughed and laughed.

(Keef Rutledge lives in Austin and can be seen at

{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

JIdstrom March 4, 2012 at 12:21 am

Isn’t that the way it always happens.


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