XCV. Once You Plop…
November 20th, 2008
Well I had had just about enough of that!
I mean sure, when you live in a building in the misty shadow of a freeway overpass in a post-apocalyptic looking stretch of Old San Francisco Town, a crippled pigeon’s hobble away from the old, burnt out docks, you have to expect some ne’re-do-wells to come creeping around from time to time to cause a little mischief. It’s part of the charm! But my 1984 Cadillac Eldorado, an American classic that one would think even the most desperate, rock-hungry crackhead would respect enough to limp by at a wide berth with little more than a reverential whistle, had been broken into for the fourth time, and its interior had been stripped of pretty much everything except a few swaths of fine faux wood paneling.
I had to take action. Immediately.
I considered staging an all night stakeout with my blowgun in the bushes across the street from the gravel lot where I park and dart the next infidel who dared enter Sarge’s golden chariot, but there was a double episode of “Deal Or No Deal” on so that wasn’t an option.
Instead, I decided to lay a trap, literally. And believe you me, this trap I had in mind would teach my burglar such an awful lesson, I knew he’d be down to the closest public library to make a HotJobs account first thing the next morning. I was going to send that bitch on the straight and narrow.
I went to the store and bought a can of olestra Pringles, the fat free ones that warn that they’ll cause whoever is foolish enough to enjoy them “loose stools.” And as I watched some idiot who had just explained to Howie Mandel how she needed to win at least $300,000 to pay for a crucial medical procedure for her mom and to one day send her wild children to college decide to go for the million dollar top prize after she already had over $400,000 in the bank, I started eating those Pringles. Eating them with abandon, more or less drinking them right out of the tube.
When I got about halfway through the can of delicious potato flake crisps, and the greedy idiot woman had lost all of her money to that evil banker, I felt a rumble deep in my bowels.
My plan was working.
I carefully removed the remaining half of the Pringles from the can to keep their uniformity from being compromised and hunched towards the bathroom with the empty tube.
And then, just like the label warned, my bowels began to go slack. But rather than deposit their troubled contents into the toilet bowl, I shot them into the bottom of the Pringles can, filling about a quarter of the tube with a fine brown froth before setting it aside. Once my bowels had finished uncoiling in the toilet and I knew I was in no danger of leaving the safety of the bathroom, I cleaned off my war torn ass, picked up my defiled Pringles can, and headed back to the living room, where the rest of the chips lay in wait.
I then carefully placed the uneaten chips back in the can, making it look like a mostly full tube of delicious Pringles. I replaced the cap, waited for a commercial break, and took my creation out to the Cadillac, placing it right on the dashboard with the doors unlocked.
About an hour later, after some other nitwit had greedily bet away a life-changing sum of money on “Deal Or No Deal” I heard a blood-curdling scream from outside my window, followed by several minutes straight of stomach evacuating retching.
My enemy had taken the bait, pressing his luck with the contents of my beautiful car one too many times, going for the crackhead equivalent of the top prize and losing it all, and I haven’t had the Cadillac broken into since.
Yes, once you pop, you can’t stop, that is until you realize that that last Pringle you just ate was sitting on a polluted sea of Martin Sargent’s wrath. And that won’t just make you stop eating Pringles, but stop everything and completely reevaluate your fucked up life!
November 20th, 2008 at 2:55 pm
This is a work of literary art, Martin Sargent. I’m glad you decided to start up SargeWorld again. Since Revision3 gave you that proverbial Pringle-Can-Of-Shit, I haven’t been able to my fix of the Sargent…this blog is helping me.
November 20th, 2008 at 3:36 pm
I’m speechless.. such an important life lesson wrapped into a beautiful story..
November 20th, 2008 at 4:20 pm
So let me get this straight. You significantly elevated the value of Pringles on the nutrition pyramid by inserting a measure of Martin’s Finest into the bottom of the can, where it sat beneath a pile of nature’s own little coffee filters. Hours later a guy comes along, opens the can and eats down to the “bonus features” without any warning? I have heard the saying before, but never applied literally. You sir, are the master. Your Sh/t don’t stink!
November 20th, 2008 at 4:24 pm
Such a genius.
November 20th, 2008 at 4:32 pm
*slow clap*
Bravo sir, bravo!
November 20th, 2008 at 5:08 pm
So…. beautiful….
You truly are the writer of our era. Never before have I coughed up as much tar and blackened pieces of my ever decaying lungs as when I read this post.
November 20th, 2008 at 5:23 pm
And with this post Martin is back!
November 20th, 2008 at 6:00 pm
LMAO, great story martin.
November 20th, 2008 at 6:12 pm
I think I speak for everyone when I say “FIRST!”
November 20th, 2008 at 8:55 pm
This sounds like it was inspired by the famous post on craiglist… At least partly..
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182862349.html
November 20th, 2008 at 10:12 pm
I hate to read. I do enough of that in college..
But you Mr. Sargent have stories that must be shared with the world. And I will be there to read them all.
P.S.
It wasn’t Gator was it?
November 21st, 2008 at 1:09 am
Sarge, I salute you on a story well done.
That was amazing.
November 21st, 2008 at 3:44 am
Comedy Gold. I nearly pissed my pants laughing at this. Thanks.
November 21st, 2008 at 5:18 am
genius! Pure, mad genius.
November 21st, 2008 at 2:24 pm
Your worn torn arse? OMG. Has Johnny O’Bannion seen it?
Good story.
November 21st, 2008 at 5:22 pm
LOL, literally LOL. I, fucking, love you man.
And I’m glad I bought Doritos instead of Pringles this afternoon.
November 21st, 2008 at 5:37 pm
I’m slightly disturbed. But more shocked that you manage to drive an ‘84 Caddy in CA and haven’t been taken out by the EPA freaks. And I will certainly never look at Pringles the same again….
November 22nd, 2008 at 12:11 am
fantastic martin!!
November 22nd, 2008 at 4:26 am
Oh Martin, it is so good to hear from you again!
We’ve greatly missed your inane banter.
November 22nd, 2008 at 10:27 am
martin… i fuckin dig it man… long-time fan
i was riding unemployment for almost 4 months earlier this year (took the whole damn summer off) before i got my shit together… and i must say that your brain will approach maximum creative mental capacity. be it due to fear, hate, the unknown, or the adrenaline rush of a new beginning. so use it wisely… which i have a feeling this brilliant post is only the tip of the iceberg. in my humble opinion… ‘web drifter’ was the real deal.
peace… live long… prosper… and read more hunter thompson / charles bukowski
November 22nd, 2008 at 1:40 pm
Meanwhile, half-way acorss the blogosphere. . .
. . . the carjacker dropped me off in some neighborhood I didn’t recognize. He had taken my wallet, my cell phone and the small lunch bag I carry peanutbutter crackers in for when my blood sugar gets dangerously low. I must have been walking for an hour looking for someone, anyone who would lend a hand to a mugged and carless soul.
That’s when I started getting shaky.
When you’re diabetic and your blood sugar starts to crash you start to get the shakes – a signal that your body is running on fumes. I’ve been in this territory before and I know where it can lead.
Moneyless and without a way to even call for help, I’m as close to being homeless as I’ve ever been. Thanks to my earlier decision to get lunch *after* I got fuel and the fact that I was jacked when I was leaving the Mobil station made me feel like a hungry hobo indeed.
As I wandered through this urban desert, populated only with broken down cars and trash cans my eyes started searching the sidewalks and alleys. One of these trash cans is going to have an uneaten doughtnut, or some other sugary or starchy snack that will keep me alive for a few more hours.
Then I saw it. Seemingly an oasis – the Pringles can.
Surely they’re stale I thought, abandoned here when this car was last driven, probably months before. Yes, they’ve got to be stale, but they’ll do. I ripped open the can and without taking even a cursory sniff I withdrew an inch stack and jammed it in my gob. . .
November 22nd, 2008 at 9:26 pm
I myself once had a case of terrible of tummy troubles as severe as that. Of course not self inflicted as part of a diabolical plot. Mine stemmed from fish balls from a Chinese place on the other side of the bridge abutment where the freight train hauling high fructose corn syrup derailed a few months back. Desecrating a Pringles can for any less high purpose seems low, but after reading that Craigslist post and Googling Olestra, I must give my blessing.
November 25th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
I read, I cried, I was in shock, I was laughing my ass off. After experiencing the multiple break-ins to my own car, I totally understand your attempt to get the guy. I myself had more granduer efforts which included electrocution but all very high in price in the long run. So I stand here, arms raised in the air, applauding your scheme to get the low life. I will remember this the next time my car has a break in.
Really miss seeing you on The Screen Savers with all your craziness. Too bad that so-called network COMCAST doesn’t have a clue and really screwed up a good thing which corporations usually do. Keep doing the thing that martin does so well!!!!
November 29th, 2008 at 2:43 pm
As a fellow broken-in car victim, I cried, I laughed, … your story of revenge was disgusting, revolting, …. and absolutely brilliant!!
December 6th, 2008 at 1:20 am
Martan – all I can say is – I hope this is a true story – a thing of terrible beauty.
Cheers!