We Continue Eastward

Sometime around Thursday, November 3rd, we were in a city called Boonville, MO. We could not find the Boonville library; I told Vlad that the odds of a place called "Boonville" even had a library were pretty small, but he said he found it in the phone book. Either way, we had to look for somewhere else to spend the night.

Our library-crashing routine was so fucking sweet, though Vlad and I go in, fifteen minutes before closing, and he distracts the librarian while I look for a good hiding place. From a different part of the library, I make some sort of huge noise to attract the librarian away from the desk. I collect Vlad and we go to the hiding place until after the library has closed.

Anyway, we decided to go bar-hopping for the night, maybe pick up some ladies who might, in the morning, agree to drive us a little bit. We stopped in a place called Carlos; we're not sure if it's supposed to be "Carlos's", "Carlo's" or just "Carlos," and from the look of the place, it might have been a bad idea to ask.

We got there around 7:30 pm, and the place was dead; just some quiet country music coming out of a jukebox and some old biker dudes at a table covered with empty mugs and cigarette butts. Vlad and I decided it was a beer kind-of-place (forget drinking the liquor. I didn't even recognize half the names on the bottles. Generic brand or some shit like that, you know?), and I whipped out my fake; the barkeep bought it, and so I looked at Vlad.

New paragraph for this one, because everyone needs to know this: the most effective fake ID in the world is not fake at all; it's a real Russian-issued ID. Vlad pulled his scribble-card out, and the bartender squinted at it for a few seconds before turning around to pour the beer. I think the Russian alphabet might actually be hypnotic. I've also heard that you can buy almost anything you want with an Israeli ID.

Alright, so we played pool for a few hours (easy to do when drinking), and by 11 we were talking to the bartender and the regulars like we'd been in Boonville our whole lives. That's when these two fine-looking ladies walked in. One was wearing this tight leather skirt and a tank top, and the other was wearing "I mean business" pants and the best cleavage shirt I've ever seen.

Anyone who has read enough of our posts should know and Vlad and I know how to get pussy. So, of course we weren't suspicious when these hot little numbers walked right up to us and challenged us to a game of pool. We agreed, and Vlad ordered a round for the ladies. They set out the stakes of the game : the winners would own the losers for the night.

You know Vlad, right? Loves the ladies, loves the booze, and loves the physics; challenging him to a game of pool is not a good idea, unless you like losing. In the first three rotations, Vlad cleared six of our seven off the table, and the ladies were left with three to sink. I pulled Vlad around the corner to the payphones and told him to throw the match, that I got the feeling that the ladies would be a lot friendlier if they won. He agreed, and his next three shots were all just a tiny bit off.

It came down to a race to sink the eight, with me up first. I missed, no problem. The business pants was up, and she blew the shot. Vlad was up. A small crowd had gathered, and I could feel it; they thought Vlad would sink it. Apparently, so did the leather skirt; right as Vlad struck the cueball, she pinched his ass. The distraction was just enough to send the eight straight where we didn't want it to go. So, in a moment of quick thinking (and slight drunkeness, and sexual deprivation), I slapped business pants on the ass and she fell into the side of the table; the eight missed by a hair, I swear to you.

Leather skirt was up, and she sank it. We were owned. The ladies took us outside and we walked the few blocks to the river. They turned us around, facing away from the river and towards them. They told us to strip. I looked to Vlad, whose pants were already around his ankles. Naked down to our shoes, they told us to turn around and bend over. I've done some weird stuff before, so I figure "What the hell? When in Boonville, right?"


We turned around, thirty seconds later, and they were gone. I looked to Vlad, who smiled back at me like an idiot. I told him he could stop staring at my cock, and he just shook his head. He bent down and dug around in his socks, pulling out our IDs, credit cards, and a nice wad of cash. He said he'd figured out what they were up to about a half-hour earlier, and took the chance to rob them blind on the walk to the river. Apparently it was just luck that they didn't take our shoes and socks, because that's just where Vlad hides things he steals.

So we had our clothes stolen, and had taken back enough money to make up the difference; still, we were naked, and I asked Vlad why we couldn't have avoided losing our clothes. He told me (I wrote it down, later, so I could remember it) "What isn't more fun naked?"

And with that, we began our late-night search for clothes.

-Chaz