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|Bad Directions (file info)|
|Listen to Bad Directions hear!|
So here we meet Bob, heading out across the north-west central mid west, in an effort to get to his grandmother's house in Coh-lee-forh-nyah. You see, it's his grandmother's birthday, and he got her some nice flowers (what a good boy, why don't you do that for your grandmother?). Anyway, he's driving down the interstate thinking about football and such, when all of a sudden, mother nature comes calling. Guess he shouldn't have had that extra large Pepsi back in the city. And I suppose the second one didn't help much either. Well, since Bob is driving out in hell's half acre here, he'll just pull on to one of these side roads and drain the main vein there.
After a few turns, he stops the car down a small dirt road. He gets out and does his business on the edge of a farmers field. All is fine and well. As he returns to his '95 civic, he gets in only to realise he has forgotten which way the highway is! Down the road, he can see a few buildings, and the makings of a small town. He'll just quickly pull in and ask for some nice, simple directions back to the interstate...
Excuse Me, Sir?
Aye there partner! Welcome to Millborough! What can I do ya for? I was just catchin' a bit o' fresh air and sippin' back on grandpa's ol' cough medicine if ya know what I mean. Sure is a lovely place aint it. Ma name's Rusty, but th'fellas down at the huntin' club call me Ol' Rus. Heh heh heh hehhhh... This 'er is Tate. Fella's call him Rattle Snake Tate, since he had his throat bitin' open by a nasty rattler back in '87. Little bugger was a nasty one too. A head the size of a melon. He can't talk no more since. So what be yer business in this here lil' slice o' paradice?
Yeah uhh, Can you give me Directions to The Interstate?
Ah, leavin' so soon? I tell ya what you ought to stick around fer tomorrow. We got our yearly corn huskin' match commin' up. You gotta meet Big George, the Tri County champion o' corn huskin'! I aint never seen anyone in ma life husk corn the way he does. He be the town pride an' joy, I tell you what. You gotta stay an' watch it. While yer here you might also wanna check out the town's beer can pyramid. Oh yeah, she's the second largest beer can pyrimid in the state I kid you not! It be quite the thing to see. Her name is Linda.
Thats nice Rusty, But can you Just Tell me how to Get to the Interstate?
I tell ya what we get a lot o' yur kind out here. Dang nabit city folk. Don't appreciate a good small town hospitality if'n it bit em in the poop shoot! I blame that thar media. Fillin' y'all brains full o' mush. It's towns like Millborough that be the few towns in America that still apprciate th' values of a good muskrat stew. Or th' sweet, sweet smell o' cow pies in th' morning. Or watchin' Dale Earnhardt Jr win his fourth Talladega victory on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Makes an ol' fellow like me cry...You ungreatful city folk oughta be more thankful o' yourselves. It be a great world we live in. By golly thank th'lord you can be a part of this massive, revolvin' and evolvin' world.
I Didn't Ask for your Life story, Now Tell Me Where the Interstate Is!
Alright Alright, I tell ya what your gettin' mighty upset over nothin'. Now here's what yer gonna do. Drive straight down this here road and make a right at Tupper Steet. Go fer a few miles that way, then turn down Route 52. You'll see a big sign with a moose on it. Take two rights, then a left. Follow that thar road untill you come to a bridge with an ol' man on it. He'll ask you 'bout th' air speed velocity ratio o' a swallow. Get it right, and cross th' bridge on to a dirt road that'll take you straight to a highway. Follow th'highway for a couple of miles till you come up to Yellow Gables. Take a left, three rights, a left, turn up, two more lefts and a right. It should bring you right to a road that'll take you to another road that may or may not be the interstate. If it aint, just repeat the last five steps till you get to the right place. Remember that and you should be good as grits.
Ummm...Could you Suggest a More Direct Way?
I tell ya what that thar be th'way. I was just makin' sure you got to see a bit extra o' the country. Not many city folk like you have this here chance. You ought to be glad you found someone who knows this place like myself. I tell you what sure is a plum nice day to be out and about. Stop down at th'camp grounds and watch some racin' tonight or somethin'. Coarse you could just turn around and you should get right back on yur way. But then again, U-turns be illegal in this here township, o' which you'd have to pay th'fine o' 473 dollars and a goat. O' which will go directly to cleanin' out the Squirrels from th'town fountain. Good eaten's they are.
For the Love of God, Just tell me How to get to the Damn Interstate!!!
Back off Buckwheat, now I tell ya what just hear me out, I'll point the way out fer ya. Here's what ya want to do. Head over that way for a bit, then turn there for a while. After that go that way, then this way, then turn like this, over there. Next turn that there, go down there for a few miles, then go the other way. As well, you could go the opposite way and forget about the other way. Although going that way might not be as good as this way I tell ya what. If you do go that way though, try going over there, but definitely not that thar. I tell ya what.
You are a Very Stupid Person...Are your Parents Brother and Sister?
...Do you want to come back to my place?
I thought You'd never Ask
Bob and Rusty continued to banter back and forth. Much arguing ensued, followed by verbal insults, and an emotional breakdown on Bob's part. He drove off, not knowing where to go. Frightened and confused, he left the car and ran off into the wilderness. Bob never showed up to grandma's house. He didn't show up to work the following Monday either. Although this is just one story of how terrible, terrible directions can ruin a man's life, we all can learn a valuable lesson. If someone asks you for directions, please remember Bob, and don't be a douchebag. Also, stay away from that second drink of Pepsi, folks. It's only gonna come back to haunt you in the end.
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