Uncle Roy Goes To the Big City and Visits a Titty Bar

Lord Long Rod

Diamond Member
Jan 17, 2023
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As you know from prior posts, I have a homosexual Bigfoot lusting about me. I saw my uncle Roy over Thanksgiving and he volunteered to help me track and kill the threatening animal. After Thanksgiving, Roy came back to Georgia with me. He is going to stay with me while we hunt the squatch.



So yesterday we got on the road. On the drive Uncle Roy confided In me that he had never been to the “big city” before. Our trek back to my house would take us right through Atlanta. Roy asked me what there was to do in Atlanta. I responded that after the Atlanta Braves, the city is most famous for its full-nudity titty bars. Roy got a big grin on his face, and I said “Oh no!! If I take you to a titty bar then we will end up with a dead stripper in the back seat. We are not stopping.”



Roy sulked a little bit. Then he asked if we could stop at The Varsity, a local landmark chili dog spot. I agreed. We pulled off at North Avenue and pulled into the parking lot. Now, every employee of The Varsity is black, as are 75% of its customers. But it is a local delicacy. We had not been in there for more than 2 minutes before Roy said, out loud, that “there sure am a lot of coons in this here joint.” Fortunately, I was able to extract us from the situation and get us back in my truck and out of there before too many blows were landed. Once safely away, I looked over at Roy and said “Goddamn it! You almost got us killed in there!” Roy simply shrugged and said “Well, I don’t want to eat after a n!gger touched my food anyway. They be sum nasty critters.”



I had not noticed but Roy stuck a chaw of chewing tobacco in his mouth. I just noticed it now as we were talking. I assume he had a cup or bottle or something to spit in. I said to Roy “Look, you cannot be going around in an urban area saying the ‘N-word’. Somebody will fucking kill us. Use some goddamn discretion.”



Old Roy then leaned to spit his chewing tobacco juice out the window. PPFFHHT-EWIE!! Unfortunately, the window on his side was up and the wad of brown spit splattered all over the inside of the window and ran down the door. I immediately yelled “MOTHERFUCKER!!!” and reached for my gun.



Roy said “No, no, no!! Jest a cotton pickin’ minute, son!! Don’t shoot me. I’ll clean it up, don’t you fucking worry”. Of course, there was nothing to use to clean it up with. So I said I’d pull into a convenience store and buy a roll of paper towels. Roy said, “What? Right here smack dab in the middle of N!gger Town?!? Son, has you lost your mind?!?” But I ignored him.



I pulled into a convenience store, handed Roy a $20 bill and told him to go in and buy a roll of paper towels. After what seemed like an eternity, Roy came out carrying a 12 pack of Budweiser and a bottle of something called “Fussy Pussy”. I asked him where were the paper towels. “Well, sheeyit! I reckon I dun up and plum fergot ‘em, didn’t I? I’ll run back in and git ‘em”, Roy replied.



When Roy returned, after what seemed like a second eternity, with a handful of cheap paper towels he stole out of the men’s room I had fucking had it. Either I would have to shoot someone or I was going to have to have one of Roy’s beers, that he bought with my money. As I popped open my first Budweiser Roy said “That’s the spirit, boy. Drink ya a few!”



Because the roads and highway exits are always changing in Atlanta due to constant road construction, I had a hard time finding my way back to an on-ramp for interstate access. By the time I had finished my third beer, and Roy had drank half the bottle of “Fussy Pussy”, we we drove past a prominent local nude bar. Roy said “Holy shit!! Let’s go in!” By this time I was ready for a stiff drink, so I agreed.



I parked my truck, then before we went inside Roy pulled out a baggy of cocaine and started chopping lines on my dash board. I asked him what the fuck he was doing. He said he needed a little taste, and that coke is like gold to strippers. He offered me a hit but I declined.



Once inside, the music was thumping and there were hot naked chicks everywhere. We got a table and I ordered a Johnny Walker Black on the rocks. Roy was beside himself. He pulled out a big wad of cash from his overalls and immediately had women all over him. “Oh well”, I thought. At least Roy is having a good time, and I have got a scotch in my hand.



I was enjoying my third scotch, relaxing to the music and the sight of jiggling tits and ass. I had not even noticed that Roy was nowhere around. I figured he got one of the strippers to give him a handjob in a back room. “Well, good for him”, I thought. All of a sudden there came a terrible commotion on the other side of the club. I looked up and saw Roy bare-ass naked on one of the stages, drinking from a liquor bottle. The bouncers were clawing their way through the crowd to get to him. “Oh shit”, I thought to myself.



I immediately hit the floor running toward Roy to lend a hand. The bouncers got to Roy before I could. Now Roy is an average size guy, and the bouncers were gorillas. The first bouncer got to Roy on stage, and Roy smashed the liquor bottle over his head, shattering it to pieces. The bouncer went down immediately.



As the second bouncer was getting on stage, naked Roy grabbed onto one of the stripper poles, swung himself around in a circle a couple times to gain some momentum, and flew off of it. Roy did a flying drop kick right into the second bouncer’s face, knocking him off stage. The bouncer’s teeth flew everywhere.



The final 2 bouncers were on top of Roy just as I got to the edge of the stage. By the time I got on stage Roy was pummeling both of them with his fists. I watched him viciously beat both of those huge, hulking bouncers to a bloody pulp. Then Roy whirled around on me, but stopped just short of hitting me when he recognized who I was. I told him we needed to leave right now. He said “No sir! Not a’fore I gits me that thar blowjob I paid fer!”



I told Roy we needed to go because the police would be coming. Fortunately, this seemed to register with the old man. He said, “Well, I reckon I will git this here hummer to go”, then he grabbed a stripper by her hand and said “Let’s go”.



We fled the stripper bar, got to my truck, and got the hell out of there. After a couple minutes I was able to regain my composure so I could reflect on this terribly sensitive position in which we found ourselves. We were fleeing through midtown Atlanta, Roy was coked-up, crazed and naked, and an abducted and naked stripper was in the back seat of my truck, frantically demanding to be let out.



The first thing I did was tell Roy to shut that bitch up. He said ok, then reached under his seat for his pistol. I said “HELL NO!! You are not getting blood all over my truck.” Roy shook his head, turned to the stripper in the back seat and said “Honey pot, if’n I gives ya sum nose candy will ya calm down? You is makin my nephew here real nervous.”



But the stripper would not calm down. So Roy pulled out his little baggy of white stuff. At the mere sight of the baggy the stripper became quiet and fixed on it. Roy said “That’s a good girl. Jest take a snoot of this and everthang will be ok.” The bitch took the bag and started cutting lines on a piece of cardboard. Then up her nose it went.



After a minute, sensing that something was wrong by the silence, I looked at the back seat and saw that the stripper was passed out and foaming at the mouth. She was also twitching. I told Roy to check her out. He appraised the situation and said “Oh shit, I musta gave her the wrong bag.” I asked him what he meant by that. He said “I gave her the goddamn bag of Drain-O!!”



Of course, my first reaction was to ask Roy why he had a bag of Drain-O. “That stuff is fucking poison, you dumbass! Why would you be carrying poison around in a little plastic baggy?!?” Roy said “Well, I knew I wuz coming to the big city and I thought that, you know, If I needed to get rid of a stripper or whore or someone, then I could trick ‘em inta snorting sum of this here drain cleaner!”



I gave Roy a nasty look, to which Roy responded “But I didn’t mean to give this one the drain cleaner, yet. She still owes me a blow job. It wuz a fucking mistake!” I told Roy to get in the back seat and check the bitch out because she may still be alive and can be saved. Roy did as I asked.



Roy was back there fumbling around with the bitch. After a moment I looked up into the review mirror to see if I could get a look at what was happening in the back seat. I see Roy’s ass going up and down, up and down. I then turned around and yelled “STOP FUCKING THAT BITCH AND SEE IF SHE IS OK!!!” Roy said, “Naw, I already checked her out. She’s fucking deader than a door nail!”



I rolled my eyes. I calmly, yet firmly, told Roy to stop fucking the corpse in my back seat, to get some clothes on, and to get back up front so we could figure out what to do with the body. Roy said “Well, shit, I already know what to do with this here body, and I is a’doin it!”



“ROY!!!!”, I shouted. Roy fussed and fumed, but he climbed off the body and started digging around in his sack for some clothes to put on. Finally dressed, he climbed back into the front seat and said “Well I hope yer fucking happy. The bitch is prolly stiff by now. We wasted a perfectly good piece of ass!”



“Fuck you, Roy”, I said. “I told you that if we stopped at a titty bar we would end up with a dead stripper in the back seat. I stopped and now what do we have in the back seat?” Roy responded, “A dead stripper?” I glared at him.



Roy started in about strippers. “Look, son, strippers ain’t people like you and I. They whores themselves out fo cash and cocaine. Hell they use the cash fo da coke, or else they use it to pay their rent after they blowed their rent money on coke.”



Roy continued, “Them thar strippers a’sellin thar pussy fer their addictions. They is broken people, and they ain’t ever gonna be fixed. They is dead inside. You caint go round fuckin strangers constantly fer drug money and not end up a craven lunatic. Hell, Bud, we dun did that poor girl a favor and put her outa her misery!”



I looked at Roy and said “I don’t give a fuck about that bitch in the backseat. I just don’t want to get connected to the goddamn body and have to face criminal prosecution.”



Roy responded “Shit fire, boy, shoot the goddamn local sheriff then. If’n there ain’t no Sheriff then there taint no damn prosemacutshun. That what I do. For fuck’s sake, there’s three generations of sheriffs buried up thar in old Sasquatch Hollar.”



I told Roy that we are not in Sasquatch Hollow and that law enforcement was a good deal different here. After a brief pause in Roy’s hillbilly gibberish, old Roy looked at me and said, “Well shit far, let’s get rid of the body”.



My mind was already working on options to sufficiently address this problem. How do we get rid of the corpse, where do we do it, etc... we are still in urban Atlanta, on the south side, when we pull up to an intersection with a red light. There are several urbanites loitering on the street corner. As we sat there waiting for the light to change to green, and as I tried to figure out what to do with the body, Uncle Roy rolled down his window and started talking to the pedestrians, “Hey, you n!ggers want to fuck a white bitch? She’s stoned out of her brains and will screw ever last one of ya!”



I immediately went for my gun, then paused because I was unsure whether to use it on the dangerous urbanites who were now surrounding my truck or on Roy. Old Roy continued with his attempt to pawn off the corpse on these street negroes. To my surprise, it seemed to be going really well.



Finally, the group of about 6 assorted street people combined their resources and bought the dead stripper for $3.63, a half-smoked joint, and a homemade knife. As the group of bums carried off the dead stripper, Roy turned to me and said “Them n!ggers are gonna fuck the shit outa that dead bitch!” I disliked the plan but it did put the corpse in the bums’ possession and there would be plenty of DNA evidence linking them to the body.



I looked around for police cams, like traffic cameras. Roy asked, “What in fuckin tarnation is you a’waitin fer, Boy?!? Let’s high-tail it outa here!” I told Roy I was looking for police cams. Roy said “Goddamn boy, even a hillbilly like me knows this is N!gger Town, and the police don’t give a shit about what goes on in N!gger Town.” I had to confess that old Roy made a good point.



We hauled ass outa there, got back onto the interstate and headed south. The remainder of the trip was uneventful, except for when Roy saw some Muslims in another car. He lowered his window and opened fire on them. Fortunately, I was able to stop him before he killed anyone else.



So now uncle Roy is settling in at my house. We are going to be putting together our plan to kill the stalking Bigfoot very soon. Then it will be time to go to war against the bastard!
 

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