Mean Green Unethical Machine
I sometimes sneak empty beer bottles into my trash, rather than waiting for weekly recycling pickup day. [Come to think of it, ditto for pizza boxes, wine bottles, tuna cans and styrofoam takeout containers. Aaand “sometimes” is closer to all the time.] I also can’t say that I read or necessarily need each and every one of the hundreds of pages I print and ultimately toss in my office trash can. Nor can I say that I drive an environmentally conscious hybrid vehicle. [Actually, I can’t say that I drive at all. But that was the state’s decision. When/If my driving privileges are reinstated, I’m getting a bigass SUV.]
So with that said, I can’t in good conscience sit here and preach about saving our planet. I’ll defer to my tree-huggin’, alternative-fuel-advocatin’ peers here at 30POV to scribe words of wisdom on this month’s topic of Green Ethics. So make sure to read their posts. [No offense, my lamb-skin-condom-wearin’ friends.]
Hmm…green ethics…what can I share with you that is somehow, loosely, vaguely, hardly, not at all really related to green ethics? [Shit! This is tougher than I thought it’d be.] Oh! I got one…
A few years back, a group of buddies and I took a week-long road trip from Jersey City to Milwaukee, hitting up baseball games from city to city along the way. Throughout the trip, we were pulling ruthless pranks on one another, many of which were premeditated, using props we had brought along with us. [Ya know, standard prank fare…a 5 lb. bag of flour for “antiquing,” a huge piece of tripe to serve as a blanket for a sleeping pal, a pound of sliced American cheese for smacking one another with, etc.] My personal favorite, and the most appropriate to this month’s topic, was the 1 oz. tube of green food coloring that I took along.
On the very first night, our pal, who we’ll call “Chubby” to mask his identity, had passed out in our room. There he rested peacefully, on his back, dead to the world. Chubby was begging to be eff’d with! [He was on his back! We were drunk. After all, I had the food coloring. The Gods of Funny would surely strike me down if I didn’t at least attempt something.]
Quietly perched above him, tube of dye in hand, […fighting back tears and snorts from laughter…] I gently pressed the spout between his lips – and squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed some more, until every last drop was in or on his mouth. [Fact: That is the most homoerotic thing I’ve ever written.] Here’s a photo of the immediate aftermath:
Fast forward to daybreak. We’re all awoken by Chubby clumsily navigating across our room to the bathroom. He flipped on the bathroom light, closed the door, and we immediately heard the groans of horrified disbelief. He ran that sink for a good twenty minutes straight, feverishly scrubbing his face and rinsing his mouth as if he were shat on. [In his defense, on this trip that was a very strong possibility.] Looking at the crime scene [his cot], it was smeared with bright green streaks – the pillowcases, sheets, comforter and even the friggin’ window curtains that hung by his head. Was there possibly any dye on him with all that we saw on the bedding? [Yes. A lot, in fact.]
We quickly hopped back into our beds before Chubby emerged from the bathroom exasperated and confused. [And looking as though he just went fifteen rounds with She-Hulk’s choacha.] We all acted shocked at the site of his horribly green-stained face, but offered little support beyond our strongly collaborated explanation that “someone must have put something in your food last night.”
For the next few days, we all [except for Chubby, of course] enjoyed our road trip with his steadily fading green teeth, lips and lower face. And going on seven years, he still sincerely believes that a waiter in Milwaukee put some innovative, time-release, green dying agent in his dinner.
[Oh, also, the picture of Chubby above has spawned countless Photoshop incarnations such as this…]
About Mr. Poopoopachu
Ahh, thanks for this post. After a month of (mostly) serious posts about green ethics, yours was a breath of fresh, albeit SUV exhaust polluted, air.
I agree with “Mark.” This post was hilarious! (and just what I needed after dumping my big pile of compost-ready food scraps…)
Thanks, Lee Lee and Mark. In retrospect, I kind of wish I had written about the wise teachings of the great Yoda. But I have 7.5 years left in my 30s to get that on the site 😉
Amazing. You also forgot to mention that you didn’t recycle the bag you shat in on the car ride there.
Smells like someone’s jealous they weren’t on the road trip.
Nice one poopoopachu. The only thing more ridick than the green mouth is that old guy’s bolo tie.
Yeah, that’s Chubby, Sr. Good guy.
I hear on the green, bro!!! Do you know how fucking nastly dog feces is for the enviroment? My next door neighbor had a poodle that used to shit green on the sidewalk. After reading this, I kicked that poodle till it died.
That’s the fucking punchline, hippies. Pray for Death.
Growing up, my neighbor had this old, ornery black mutt that would terrorize the kids in my neighborhood — his name was Mugsy. He’d chase us when we got off the school bus, or come and growl at us while we were in my pool, keeping us their pruning until he got bored and left. One day while raking leaves he came barreling through the bushes that separated our yards, and despite my attempts to fend him off with the rake, he bit me. And the bastard drew blood. That was the last time he’d ever bother me. Rather then tell my parents, me and my buddy set out a bowl of leftovers [chicken of some sort, if I remember correctly] in my backyard, and sat patiently inside my basement window with my paintball rifle. For fear of a PETA uprising, I’ll spare you the details. Just know this…1) he lived and 2) he never bothered me again. Unfortunately, the other unarmed kids in the neighborhood weren’t as lucky.
Thanks for the laughs. I was the girl who fell asleep first at a slumber part and got shaving cream in her ear. Ok, it was put in my hand and my ear was tickled, and well, the rest is as you’d imagine. Thanks for making me feel a little less alone in this big cruel world.
C’mon, Srsti! The first rule of sleepovers, like any Nightmare on Elm Street movie, is to never fall asleep. At least not until the smartass of the group has.
Good thing you used green food coloring, otherwise you would have been screwed this month.
You’re tellin’ me, Dave! It was between this story, my drunken buffoonery at an ’06 Bears vs. Jets (aka Gang Green) game, and the very first time I smoked weed, which was on Hoboken St. Patrick’s Day years back. That last one would’ve had so many “green” references, your head would spin.
GAWD. i really wanted someone to write about marijuana this mont (other than our editor)!! oh well, maybe when the theme is drug usage ethics.
[…] (Circa ’03) Everyone has that one friend who always seems to be the butt of the joke. Thankfully, I’m not that guy in my circle of friends… http://30pov.com/2009/09/27/mean-green-unethical-machine/ […]