nitepharmer
02-21-2007, 09:32 PM
I was a bad kid and I've only gotten worse. My hobby is to diversify the species in corn fields. Its marijuana seedlings in, loaded garbage bags out. Check out my story FREE MONEY THE NIGHT I DASH FOR CASH if you don't believe me. When I was eleven (a long damn time ago) I was able to mail order for two pounds of gun powder. There was a little box at the bottom of the page you had to check off that were were twenty one and I still remember how careful I was to make it a very neat X. I got the mail before my mother did and proceeded to mix together the ingredients which when seperated are inert. I still remember the ingredients are charcoal, salt peter and sulfur , but I can't recall the proportions. Things were way different back then. The summers were long and boring and you had to spice them up. That was the summer the neighborhood was beseiged with pipe bombs. I bought the long wicks from a hobby store and the threaded pipe and ends from a hardware store. Our favorite targets were big tree trunks out in the woods.
We'd stick our lit bomb in a critter hole borrowed underneath the massive trunk and then run behind a nearby tree to watch the action. It just never got old feeling the ground shake and watching that tree trunk hurl up in the air and land smoking on it's side. Well we were kids and we had bombs and of course it got out of hand and we went too far. We made one bomb a bit bigger than the earlier ones and made the mistake of thinking sixty feet away from Jimmy Blackburns house was far enough. It wasn't and the concussion pushed the picture window right into the house. Out of sheer luck I didn't get caught but all my friends did and they took the rest of our toys away from us. I think it was the next summer that I made a flamethrower. It wasn't good enough to hold a match under my Mom's aerosol can of hairspray, no, I got the great idea of cutting the whole top off so that the whole can would be instantly emptied. I had enough sense to do it outside but not enough to do it thirty feet clear of anything flamable. The bushes were never the same. I held the can with the high flamed lit lighter under it while my accomplice used a utility knife to neatly cut the entire top off. I don't know why I didn't pull that lighter away sooner. I guess I was just amazed at the twenty foot flames that engulfed our neighbors hedge. I was grounded that summer. Christmas time had an extra special meaning for me for a couple of years . My parents mailed out and recieved tons of Chrismas cards and I found a way to have fun with them. Their was always room for another sentence to be written above the senders signature so I spent a great deal of time and effort writing some of the most dark and disturbing things I could think of. Then I'd remail them other people in my parents address book, people I figured that would know each other a little bit, but not well enough to mail each other christmas cards. I still remember my favorites; shut up that yappy wife, heard you reupholstered your face-just kidding, I knocked Madge unconscious with a twenty five pound bag of kitty litter and she deserved it, I'll never forgive you for that horsey back ride you gave me in the sixth grade, I begged for spare change, I talked about selling the children, I put real creative effort into it. Things got hot after two holiday seasons and I had to quit. They were closing in on me. One more thing I did, probably the worst, my guess is people are still walking around to this day haunted by what I did. I stole a halloween dummy from someone's front yard and thanks to a rope thrown over a tree branch I'd have it run in front of speeding cars. It worked perfectly, I'd then yank the dummy up in the tree and hide in the bushes. I must say people never looked very long for the person they just ran over. A quick thirty second look around and off they'd go. I was scared that a car would lose control and crash so I didn't do it for very long. Now I'm the nitepharmer, I farm pharaceuticals at night, and I need your help to decide what hobby I should take up. 1) I've devised a series of what I call alternative greeting cards...The only way I can repay you is in live chickens...When I get out of prison I'm coming to live with you...The next neighborhood sex party is at your house....You get the idea, I've got about ten of them. 2)Fake historical markers, I figure you can put any kind of outrageous bullshit on offiial looking historical marker and the public will buy it. Here's my first one. Dale Trout, Father of Oregon. Dale gets thrown off the Lewis and Clark expedition for continuous lewd behavior and falls in with a huge hairy indian women of questionable parentage. He renames her Mulch the Manraper because Mulch is the most useful thing she'll ever be and because of her agrressive nature. Together they multiply quickly and their children are still living in the area. Many of them continue to practice the questionable behavior of Dale and Mulch and have been forced to flee the area. Each year they all come back together for the notorious Mulch Days celebration and it is advised to stay clear of the area during it. Here's my second one. Goat Bordello -Rand road got it's name from the series of whore houses up and down it, Farmers would come here when they were feeling randy. For half price they would come here to get "the greatest French pleasure this side of Paris." Word of mouth reputation spread far and wide of the amazing Imma, who didn't want to be known so she hid in a box. Long lines backed up for her one and only skill. Then one day the lock on the back came loose and out walked a thirsty toothless goat named Pud. The house of ill repute was burned down by angry customers and Pud disappeared, possibly stolen by one of his fans. I'm also toying with the idea of dog collar that can hide a cell phone. You can put it on speaker and fuck with people. What if a dog walked up to you and said, "I'm an alien sociologist zipped up in this dog suit, don't tell anybody." Well I've time on my hands, probably not a good thing, what should I do?
We'd stick our lit bomb in a critter hole borrowed underneath the massive trunk and then run behind a nearby tree to watch the action. It just never got old feeling the ground shake and watching that tree trunk hurl up in the air and land smoking on it's side. Well we were kids and we had bombs and of course it got out of hand and we went too far. We made one bomb a bit bigger than the earlier ones and made the mistake of thinking sixty feet away from Jimmy Blackburns house was far enough. It wasn't and the concussion pushed the picture window right into the house. Out of sheer luck I didn't get caught but all my friends did and they took the rest of our toys away from us. I think it was the next summer that I made a flamethrower. It wasn't good enough to hold a match under my Mom's aerosol can of hairspray, no, I got the great idea of cutting the whole top off so that the whole can would be instantly emptied. I had enough sense to do it outside but not enough to do it thirty feet clear of anything flamable. The bushes were never the same. I held the can with the high flamed lit lighter under it while my accomplice used a utility knife to neatly cut the entire top off. I don't know why I didn't pull that lighter away sooner. I guess I was just amazed at the twenty foot flames that engulfed our neighbors hedge. I was grounded that summer. Christmas time had an extra special meaning for me for a couple of years . My parents mailed out and recieved tons of Chrismas cards and I found a way to have fun with them. Their was always room for another sentence to be written above the senders signature so I spent a great deal of time and effort writing some of the most dark and disturbing things I could think of. Then I'd remail them other people in my parents address book, people I figured that would know each other a little bit, but not well enough to mail each other christmas cards. I still remember my favorites; shut up that yappy wife, heard you reupholstered your face-just kidding, I knocked Madge unconscious with a twenty five pound bag of kitty litter and she deserved it, I'll never forgive you for that horsey back ride you gave me in the sixth grade, I begged for spare change, I talked about selling the children, I put real creative effort into it. Things got hot after two holiday seasons and I had to quit. They were closing in on me. One more thing I did, probably the worst, my guess is people are still walking around to this day haunted by what I did. I stole a halloween dummy from someone's front yard and thanks to a rope thrown over a tree branch I'd have it run in front of speeding cars. It worked perfectly, I'd then yank the dummy up in the tree and hide in the bushes. I must say people never looked very long for the person they just ran over. A quick thirty second look around and off they'd go. I was scared that a car would lose control and crash so I didn't do it for very long. Now I'm the nitepharmer, I farm pharaceuticals at night, and I need your help to decide what hobby I should take up. 1) I've devised a series of what I call alternative greeting cards...The only way I can repay you is in live chickens...When I get out of prison I'm coming to live with you...The next neighborhood sex party is at your house....You get the idea, I've got about ten of them. 2)Fake historical markers, I figure you can put any kind of outrageous bullshit on offiial looking historical marker and the public will buy it. Here's my first one. Dale Trout, Father of Oregon. Dale gets thrown off the Lewis and Clark expedition for continuous lewd behavior and falls in with a huge hairy indian women of questionable parentage. He renames her Mulch the Manraper because Mulch is the most useful thing she'll ever be and because of her agrressive nature. Together they multiply quickly and their children are still living in the area. Many of them continue to practice the questionable behavior of Dale and Mulch and have been forced to flee the area. Each year they all come back together for the notorious Mulch Days celebration and it is advised to stay clear of the area during it. Here's my second one. Goat Bordello -Rand road got it's name from the series of whore houses up and down it, Farmers would come here when they were feeling randy. For half price they would come here to get "the greatest French pleasure this side of Paris." Word of mouth reputation spread far and wide of the amazing Imma, who didn't want to be known so she hid in a box. Long lines backed up for her one and only skill. Then one day the lock on the back came loose and out walked a thirsty toothless goat named Pud. The house of ill repute was burned down by angry customers and Pud disappeared, possibly stolen by one of his fans. I'm also toying with the idea of dog collar that can hide a cell phone. You can put it on speaker and fuck with people. What if a dog walked up to you and said, "I'm an alien sociologist zipped up in this dog suit, don't tell anybody." Well I've time on my hands, probably not a good thing, what should I do?