Captain Creeper
Diamond Member
- Oct 13, 2025
- 2,317
- 2,732
- 1,903
Today started off as usual. My wife woke me up for church. I got out of bed, showered, then we went to the Cracker Barrel for breakfast. After breakfast we were to go to worship services at our church, The First Baptist Church of Wendigo Hollow. But today, we did not make it there.
It was over breakfast that things started going south. My wife was giving me the silent treatment, which is completely outside of her personality. I was happy, though, because I was suffering from a heck of a hangover. What started out last night as a friendly night with my buddies playing poker in my garage turned into a hard liquor drinking roust-a-bout on my front lawn.
I figured Reba was upset because we probably trampled on her rose bushes or knocked over her lawn troll. Of course, she waited until our breakfast was set on the table before she cut loose on me. It felt like a steel spike was being driven through my aching head when her voice hit me. But what came next was completely unexpected.
“Roy! Are you … GAY?!?!”, she asked. “EXCUSE ME?!!!”, I replied. She asked again. I pushed back from the table and looked around the dining room, trying to digest my wife’s query. I was also trying to hold back a fit of angry hangover diarrhea that was trying to slip out. But I could not excuse myself from the table because that would look like defeat. I was obligated to stand my ground and defend myself against these scandalous accusations. I decided to go with the soft approach with Rita.
“Honey, baby-doll, you KNOW me. We have been married for 28 years. We have 3 children together! How in the world could you think I may be gay?!?”, I asked.
Rita leaned over the table and sternly said, “Because I saw you and your friends last night at 3:00 am, naked as a bunch of jaybirds and rolling around on our front lawn. Hell, old man Jenkins from across the street called the Sheriff over all the noise ya’ll were making. But when Sheriff Johnson rolled up in his patrol car and saw that … tangled meat monstrosity … on our front lawn, he shielded his eyes with his free hand and sped the hell away!!”
The memory was starting to return to me, and it was not particularly pretty. Me and my buddies were playing poker last night, like we do every Saturday night. Then we ran out of beer. It was old Dwight’s turn to bring the beer, but he cheaped out and only brought one case, the cheap sumbitch!!
I was pissed because we were going to have to stop playing so we could make a trip to the beer store. Then, Big Mike said, “Hell, I got a half-gallon of Jack in my truck. I’ll just go get it!” I rolled my eyes, knowing that mixing liquor with beer, then gambling, is a mighty dangerous predicament.
But after a few shot of old Jack, and a few more hands of cards, I was feeling pretty good, and so was everybody else. The game wrapped up around 1:30 am. Me and my buddies were hanging out in my driveway, finishing off that bottle of Jack and shooting the bull before they had to leave.
It dawned on my that Dwight and Mike were too drunk to drive safely. Plus, if Dwight gets another DUI conviction they are going to ship him off to the state penitentiary this time. Being the voice of reason, I told them to come on back inside and sleep it off.
Well, I got them back inside, but only as far as the poker table in my garage. “You got any more booze, Roy?”, asked Mike. I told him that I did not. I had to make a deal with the wife a while back that I would stop keeping booze in the house or else she was going to leave me. I agreed. In hindsight, she was just upset that we had to pay for my DUI lawyer again instead of make our house payments for the next six months.
Dwight then spoke up. “Well now, if we don’t got no more booze, then we need to ramp it up a bit!”, said Dwight as he was tapping his nose with his finger. “Oh, Hell!”, I thought to myself.
The next thing you know, old Dwight was chopping lines on the table. I was fussing up a storm. “Goddamnit, Dwight!! I can’t be sniffing any of that shit!! I promised Rita I would not do that anymore!”, I said. I remembered the last time I did it. I ended up in a jail cell in TJ with a Mexican transvestite. Rita had to drive down there to get me out. I had to promise her I would never do that shit again so she would not leave me.
Dwight took the first bump, then Mike. Dwight asked me if I wanted a bump. I said “Hell no!”, but before I could even get the words fully out I was taking my first bump. We started playing cards again.
At some point I turned to Dwight and asked, “Goddamn, boy. That there is some good shit!! How’d you get so much of it?!?” Old Dwight smiled a shit-eating grin and looked at me. Then he said, “Well sir, last week I was over at that little mansion on 5th Street, the one with the little black jockey statues in the front yard.” I knew the house. I installed the light fixtures there.
Dwight continued, “I was over there cuz the owner, Mr. Tony, wanted to put new toilets in the place. While doing my work I overheard him and his wife having one hell of a fight. Then I heard two loud bangs … “BANG!! BANG!!!!” I pulled my own pistol from my pants and went to investigate.”
“I found the 2 of them there in the master bedroom, laying on the floor, dead. It appeared to me that they had both shot each other! I was thinking bout what I should do when I spied a table full of big, white bricks!!”
“So you stole the shit?!?”, I asked? “Yep!”, said Dwight. We all had a good laugh! I told Dwight, “You know, Mr. Tony was a cartel-connected drug trafficker from Columbia, right??” Dwight just shrugged. He did not give a shit, and neither did Mike or me. **** ‘em!!
Then, at some point, Mike challenged Dwight to a wrestling match. We went out on the front lawn. I was going to referee it. Dwight protested that he could not wrestle in his clothes because his pants were way too tight. Mike and I checked check him out. I said, “Damn, boy! Them IS some tight-ass pants ya got on! I can even see your junk, dude. Hey, Mike!! Look at this!!” Mike looked and said “DAYYUMM…”
So I told Dwight, “Hell, boy, just take off them britches!! Mike, lose YOUR britches!!” Mike complied. In just a moment, both Mike and Dwight were down to their righty whiteys. “Alright, boys. Take yer positions!”, I said.
But both of them stood there looking at me. I asked, “What the ****?!? Are ya wrestling or just gonna stare at me like a couple reetards?!?” Dwight then suggested that I take my clothes off too, explaining that if the 2 of them had to do it, then it was only fair that I did too.
I looked at them then said, “Chicken shit!! You think I am afraid to get naked?!? Will F- you! I’ll show you!!” I then stripped down to being bare-assed naked.
They were still looking at me. “Now what?!?!”, I demanded. Dwight said, “Damn, man. Your stuff is all hanging out”. I replied, “That’s right!! And now ya’ll got to do the same.” Then I mocked Dwight’s voice as I said, “It’s only fair…”
That was pretty much the last memory I had of the night. I looked up at Rita and said, “Aw, hell, Rita … we were just wrestling. That’s all.”
Rita replied sternly, “What I saw went way, way, WAY beyond wrestling.” Then Rita broke down and started crying, telling me how dumb she felt for trusting me again. “Roy, you have humiliated me again and again. I’m through this time!!”
The manager at the Cracker Barrel came over to our table and said he would comp us for breakfast if we would just get up and get the hell out of his restaurant. We did.
Later on that day Rita and I reconciled. I worked my magic, like I always do. She asked me, with a loving smile on her face, “So, Roy, you promise you are not going to get gay with your friends anymore?” I replied, “I promise, Honey.”
It was over breakfast that things started going south. My wife was giving me the silent treatment, which is completely outside of her personality. I was happy, though, because I was suffering from a heck of a hangover. What started out last night as a friendly night with my buddies playing poker in my garage turned into a hard liquor drinking roust-a-bout on my front lawn.
I figured Reba was upset because we probably trampled on her rose bushes or knocked over her lawn troll. Of course, she waited until our breakfast was set on the table before she cut loose on me. It felt like a steel spike was being driven through my aching head when her voice hit me. But what came next was completely unexpected.
“Roy! Are you … GAY?!?!”, she asked. “EXCUSE ME?!!!”, I replied. She asked again. I pushed back from the table and looked around the dining room, trying to digest my wife’s query. I was also trying to hold back a fit of angry hangover diarrhea that was trying to slip out. But I could not excuse myself from the table because that would look like defeat. I was obligated to stand my ground and defend myself against these scandalous accusations. I decided to go with the soft approach with Rita.
“Honey, baby-doll, you KNOW me. We have been married for 28 years. We have 3 children together! How in the world could you think I may be gay?!?”, I asked.
Rita leaned over the table and sternly said, “Because I saw you and your friends last night at 3:00 am, naked as a bunch of jaybirds and rolling around on our front lawn. Hell, old man Jenkins from across the street called the Sheriff over all the noise ya’ll were making. But when Sheriff Johnson rolled up in his patrol car and saw that … tangled meat monstrosity … on our front lawn, he shielded his eyes with his free hand and sped the hell away!!”
The memory was starting to return to me, and it was not particularly pretty. Me and my buddies were playing poker last night, like we do every Saturday night. Then we ran out of beer. It was old Dwight’s turn to bring the beer, but he cheaped out and only brought one case, the cheap sumbitch!!
I was pissed because we were going to have to stop playing so we could make a trip to the beer store. Then, Big Mike said, “Hell, I got a half-gallon of Jack in my truck. I’ll just go get it!” I rolled my eyes, knowing that mixing liquor with beer, then gambling, is a mighty dangerous predicament.
But after a few shot of old Jack, and a few more hands of cards, I was feeling pretty good, and so was everybody else. The game wrapped up around 1:30 am. Me and my buddies were hanging out in my driveway, finishing off that bottle of Jack and shooting the bull before they had to leave.
It dawned on my that Dwight and Mike were too drunk to drive safely. Plus, if Dwight gets another DUI conviction they are going to ship him off to the state penitentiary this time. Being the voice of reason, I told them to come on back inside and sleep it off.
Well, I got them back inside, but only as far as the poker table in my garage. “You got any more booze, Roy?”, asked Mike. I told him that I did not. I had to make a deal with the wife a while back that I would stop keeping booze in the house or else she was going to leave me. I agreed. In hindsight, she was just upset that we had to pay for my DUI lawyer again instead of make our house payments for the next six months.
Dwight then spoke up. “Well now, if we don’t got no more booze, then we need to ramp it up a bit!”, said Dwight as he was tapping his nose with his finger. “Oh, Hell!”, I thought to myself.
The next thing you know, old Dwight was chopping lines on the table. I was fussing up a storm. “Goddamnit, Dwight!! I can’t be sniffing any of that shit!! I promised Rita I would not do that anymore!”, I said. I remembered the last time I did it. I ended up in a jail cell in TJ with a Mexican transvestite. Rita had to drive down there to get me out. I had to promise her I would never do that shit again so she would not leave me.
Dwight took the first bump, then Mike. Dwight asked me if I wanted a bump. I said “Hell no!”, but before I could even get the words fully out I was taking my first bump. We started playing cards again.
At some point I turned to Dwight and asked, “Goddamn, boy. That there is some good shit!! How’d you get so much of it?!?” Old Dwight smiled a shit-eating grin and looked at me. Then he said, “Well sir, last week I was over at that little mansion on 5th Street, the one with the little black jockey statues in the front yard.” I knew the house. I installed the light fixtures there.
Dwight continued, “I was over there cuz the owner, Mr. Tony, wanted to put new toilets in the place. While doing my work I overheard him and his wife having one hell of a fight. Then I heard two loud bangs … “BANG!! BANG!!!!” I pulled my own pistol from my pants and went to investigate.”
“I found the 2 of them there in the master bedroom, laying on the floor, dead. It appeared to me that they had both shot each other! I was thinking bout what I should do when I spied a table full of big, white bricks!!”
“So you stole the shit?!?”, I asked? “Yep!”, said Dwight. We all had a good laugh! I told Dwight, “You know, Mr. Tony was a cartel-connected drug trafficker from Columbia, right??” Dwight just shrugged. He did not give a shit, and neither did Mike or me. **** ‘em!!
Then, at some point, Mike challenged Dwight to a wrestling match. We went out on the front lawn. I was going to referee it. Dwight protested that he could not wrestle in his clothes because his pants were way too tight. Mike and I checked check him out. I said, “Damn, boy! Them IS some tight-ass pants ya got on! I can even see your junk, dude. Hey, Mike!! Look at this!!” Mike looked and said “DAYYUMM…”
So I told Dwight, “Hell, boy, just take off them britches!! Mike, lose YOUR britches!!” Mike complied. In just a moment, both Mike and Dwight were down to their righty whiteys. “Alright, boys. Take yer positions!”, I said.
But both of them stood there looking at me. I asked, “What the ****?!? Are ya wrestling or just gonna stare at me like a couple reetards?!?” Dwight then suggested that I take my clothes off too, explaining that if the 2 of them had to do it, then it was only fair that I did too.
I looked at them then said, “Chicken shit!! You think I am afraid to get naked?!? Will F- you! I’ll show you!!” I then stripped down to being bare-assed naked.
They were still looking at me. “Now what?!?!”, I demanded. Dwight said, “Damn, man. Your stuff is all hanging out”. I replied, “That’s right!! And now ya’ll got to do the same.” Then I mocked Dwight’s voice as I said, “It’s only fair…”
That was pretty much the last memory I had of the night. I looked up at Rita and said, “Aw, hell, Rita … we were just wrestling. That’s all.”
Rita replied sternly, “What I saw went way, way, WAY beyond wrestling.” Then Rita broke down and started crying, telling me how dumb she felt for trusting me again. “Roy, you have humiliated me again and again. I’m through this time!!”
The manager at the Cracker Barrel came over to our table and said he would comp us for breakfast if we would just get up and get the hell out of his restaurant. We did.
Later on that day Rita and I reconciled. I worked my magic, like I always do. She asked me, with a loving smile on her face, “So, Roy, you promise you are not going to get gay with your friends anymore?” I replied, “I promise, Honey.”
