A Terrorist Sell in the Trailer Park


By Mike Mulletino



“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me”

That’s what I said when I heard about the latest shit. I was down at the laundro mat, gettin the latest dirt, when my bud Chauncy was telling me about terrorists in Rose Grove. I told him about the terrorist motherfuckers I found at Walnut Grove in Cali, and how I eliminated thier asses. You see, the double M don’t fuck around with this shit. You fucking wear a rag on your head, and fuck around in my town, your punk ass will go down. I don’t care if I shut down every 7-11 in this motherfucking county, I will kick hodgee ass if they fuck around. And they love to fuck around. So I made an appointment to smoke some weed over at Chauncy’s later, to talk about gatherin up an anti-terrorism task force in Rose Grove.

I hopped in the Datsun, and busted down to Auto Zone. I needed a fuckin distributor cap for the camaro. The shit is almost done. Them punk motherfuckers didn’t have it. So I smashed an alternator over the manager’s face, poured some heet in his mouth, and took off across the street to Schuck’s. I like Schucks, except for this tall dark haired dude who’s a manager there. He’s always making fun of my haircut, and talkin shit about chevys. One of these days, I am gonna turn that fucking face of his into an ashtray someday, the mouthy motherfucker. Anyways, I went in and got my cap, and I think I found one of the terrorists.

I strolled up to the counter, and that smartass manager says “what’s up mullet man” or some shit. I wanted to fuckin smack him dude. I was like “distributor for an 81 IROC… cept the motor is a ’79. Its a 305, brother”. He started laughing. “Is it HEI?” he asked. “Is that any of your fuckin business turkey? You think I can’t afford HEI? Is that it? Broke motherfucker runs a standard??? Keep fucking mouthing off, and I’ll smash your fucking skull in, dude”. I told him. He kept laughing. Yeah, laugh it up dude, soon, you’ll be giggling your pansy ass off in a wheelchair. The MM don’t fuck around. About that time, this hodgee dude piped up. “Hey man, you want me to take care of your light work?” He says to the manager dude. I figured it out. I had a terrorist, and maybe even a leader. I didn’t kick his ass, because I didn’t want to ruin my investigation.

So that night at Chauncy’s we started firin up some doobies, and crankin the tunes. We got to talking about building our crew. I had me, Mark, Dave, George, and a few other choice dudes in the meeting. We are all fuckin ass kickers, and we’ve all been to jail. We know the ropes, man. We knew of this one trailer that this fucken dothead lives in. We got to thinkin, and thats the only fuckin possibility man. So we all hopped in the back of Mark’s Datsun pickup, to take our trip to the other side of the park. We cranked up the Def Lep and headed out.

As soon as we rolled up, Mark killed the lights. He killed the motor too, but thats ok, it don’t got no muffler, so its real loud anyway. We start creepin up on his trailer and guess what. That hodgee motherfucker from the Schuck’s store was there! Dude, that was proof enough we had our guy. I went up and knocked on the door. Some dot head dude answered. “Hello sir, how can I help you?” He asked. “Well, you can get your camel ridin ass out here for one”. I says to him. “What seems to be the problem?” He asked. “Terrorism dude. We are here to take down your fuckin regime, man. The park aint no place for this shit” I tells him. Then, that smart ass mother fucker from the parts store comes up, and says “oh dat is de long haired guy from the chuck’s! Da mullet guy” He says, and tosses a peanut at me, over the other hodgees shoulder.

Alright motherfuckers, the negotiations are over. I grabbed the hodgee dude, and threw him off his porch on to the hood of mark’s truck. I gave them the signal to kill, with my finger going across my neck, like they do in the movies. I am starting to get pretty sofisticated, dude. I took that parts store motherfucker and slammed his head through the window. I took some of the broken glass, and rubbed it in his face. “you like that bitch??? TAKE ME TO THE BOMBS”. He started crying and shit. “We no have da bombs.. its only a poker game man”, He says. About that time, 3 other hodgees came into the doorway from the kitchen. This was a meeting!

I took the hodgee guy’s head, and twisted it, and snapped his fuckin neck. Fuck it, I don’t have time now to play around. I came up, and and kicked two of them in the face, at the same time. They dropped. I took the middle one, and slammed his head into my knee. Blood splattered all over the trailer. I let him drop. One of the other dude’s got up. “Where’s the fucking bombs, man, I am getting impatient.” I yelled at him. He acted all stupid. I yanked the VCR out from the entertainment center, and smashed him over the head with it. I slammed it into his face over and over, till it looked like a giant tampon. Fuck this terrorist bullshit.

I knew the pigs would be showing up soon. I heard some hodgee bitch crying on the phone to the pigs. I trashed most of the living room as best I could, you know, to send a message. I bolted out the front door, and the dudes had that first hodgee held up, and they were taking turns hitting him in the face with a shovel. “Dudes! We gotta book!” I says to em. We hopped in the truck, and burned out of there. We were chanting “U. S. A !! U. S. A.!!” As we rolled off.

We many not have stopped terrorism, but we at least crushed a terrorist sell, whatever the fuck that is. Its a small victory in a large battle. At least I know the terrorists in Rose Grove wont be doing too good, after we fucked em up like that. I figure they were probably gonna do a suicide bombing at the laundromat, thats where the most people gather. It would be pretty fucked up man, if shit like that went down. Of course there would be a lot of cops there, and they would fuck with me.

They always do. Till next time, Mike.

Mike Mulletino is a former Columnist for Major-losers.com. He now lives in Forest Grove, Oregon, in the Rose Grove Trailer Park.. He can be reached by e-mail. He cannot be reached by phone, that shit’s been disconnected.