Greetings, fellow travelers. This is a live broadcast of the Crossing Guard tapes Coming to you, as always, from an undisclosed location.
Speaker 2:What you are about to hear is true.
Speaker 1:This is an unauthorized account taken from the diary of Mike Limbo, an involuntary pawn in a neo-Syop organization known as the Guards of the Realm. Mike has gone undercover and without your support, there is little hope. Time is running out. Help us get the word out. Join us as we bring you the sixth installment of the Crossing Guard tapes.
Speaker 2:October 8th 1988. I got stuck with the freak again. Remember that freak? I told you about the weird old dude that does nothing but wave and salute and make monkey faces all fucking day. He's driving me batty While I'm out there busting my nut. All day he's standing there making a complete jackass out of himself and at the same time making a total mockery of the rest of us. One bad apple is all it takes. He makes all crossing guards look like a bunch of mental retards. Might as well take a shit and wipe it all over my uniform. For Christ's sakes, while he's at it, he might as well fuck me up the ass with his stop sign handle. He didn't complain to Mr Jake about this fruit cake. I can't take this shit much longer. October 31st 1988.
Speaker 2:Some cats from the Southeast School District are throwing a Halloween bash tonight. We weren't even invited, so we're going to pay them a little visit. Some of us guards from the South Central District are going to crash it and crack a few heads open. That'll teach them not to invite us next time. Just hoping that my favorite fruit cake is there, cause he's going home with a few less teeth tonight. If I fucking find him, buddy's going to wear his steel toad fag stomping boots and he'll be bringing his brass knuckles with him as well. For the party I'm going dressed like the Grim Reaper. Buddy's going to be wearing some kind of Nazi SS getup.
Speaker 2:Anyways, the kids wore their Halloween costumes to school today. It was a really busy day and I had to be on my toes from the second. I got there by 3 o'clock. When school got out the kids were totally out of control and a little boy from the third grade ran out in front of a bus and got killed, crushed him like a grape. He was dressed like a ghost, so I guess now he is one. Anyways, I'll tell you more about the party. Tomorrow Should be a bloody good night. November 1st 1988. The party turned out to be even better than we thought. Five of the Skies from South Central crashed the party and turned it into the Halloween from Hell. Buddy, who's at least 6'5 and weighing in at over 250 pounds, walked right in, picked up the punch ball and emptied it on the head of some idiot dressed like a ghost buster. That turned a lot of heads. I can tell you that Once he had everyone's attention, he announced to the party thanks for inviting South Central you fucks.
Speaker 2:Then we picked up the keg and heaved it out through the sliding glass doors, which were closed. It knocked the door right out of its frame and glass shattered everywhere. As everyone dove out of the way, frame was all mangled and half torn out of the wall. The looks on their pathetic faces were priceless. It was like they were in shock. They just stood there waiting for someone to say or do something. So we did. We found out and started clubbing anyone and everyone that got in our path with our police issued billy clubs, poisoned people, scattered. What a bunch of pussies. We weren't even hitting that hard, though Did knock a few teeth out.
Speaker 2:A couple of brave souls tried to corner Buddy. Dracula jumped on his back while Robin Hood tried to tackle him at the knees. Bad move Buddy's knee met Robin's nose, flattened it like a pancake, blood spurred it everywhere and the guy passed out, crumpled at Buddy's feet. In the meantime, dracula was trying to get Buddy in a headlock and was pulling his hair, trying to gouge his eyes out. Instead, he managed to get his fingers caught in Buddy's mouth. Buddy must have been hungry, because he took a bite out of Dracula that he'd never forget. A couple of guys jumped me and dragged me to the door and threw me into some prickly bushes Fuckers, fucking cock-suckers. I could have lost an eye. Someone called the cops and well, our time was up. Buddy finally got tossed out with me and we lit the hell out of there. We drove downtown to find some other parties to crash. Of course, we were all revved up on speed so we were ready to do more damage all night if need be. If the duty comes, we will answer.
Speaker 2:When we got to Broadway I spotted my Bonnie cruising west. I told Buddy to chase her. He made a U-E and we followed her in hot pursuit. Here we go, here we go, here we go. I must have told Buddy about my Bonneville a million times. He agreed with me that Bonnie should rightfully be mine.
Speaker 2:We followed her to a bar on the south side and waited for the guy to go in. I followed him into the bar. I was just gonna talk to him but changed my mind when I saw him sitting down with some off-duty cops. I decided to go with Plan B. I went back outside and told Buddy I would not be needing a ride home tonight, went over to my Bonnie and just gazed at her for a few seconds, reunited at last. I was almost crying and I'm sure she felt the same way. He didn't mean to be together. I took out my spare key, which I carry on me at all times, unlocked it, got in, revved it up a few times and peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of fucking hell. It felt great to be reunited with her.
Speaker 2:I took her over to Speedway and put her through the paces and to see if I could find any of my old cruising buddies. Buddy was right behind me the whole way. Once we got to Speedway we took over the whole goddamn Boulevard. He pulled his car up beside my Bonnie and we drove neck and neck so that no one could pass us. Yeah, come on. We cruise Speedway for an hour or so, hitting all the hotspots, running into all my old cruising pals. Leo was there with the 75 Camaro as usual, hanging out in the parking lot of Pavarotti's Pizza, drinking Coke and talking to a waitress named Debbie that he's been trying to nail ever since I met him. He'll have to wait a little longer.
Speaker 2:After tonight, when she saw Leo out in the parking lot, she came out to talk to him. She goes you can't park this here all night. Leo, my boss is getting pissed. You're scaring away the customers. Go home. Leo got even with her, though he gave her the finger and peeled out of the parking lot. I don't blame him for getting pissed off. She treats him like a fucking dog. Little love, come on baby.
Speaker 2:And speaking of fucks, I ran into my old pal Freddy Fuck. Actually his name is Frederick Fuchs, but we always just called him Freddy Fuck for the album. He was cool about it. Freddy was on the strip too. We found him and his 67 Baby Blue Mustang holed up at Dunkin' Donuts. He was up to his usual tricks acting drunk and spilling coffee all over the counter. He couldn't believe that I had my Bonnie again. I just had to tell him to cool it down on the account that I was just borrowing it for the evening. You finally got him to understand and shut the fuck up about it, which is good, since there were a couple of cops sitting in the corner.
Speaker 2:There was no fucking cops.
Speaker 1:After they left.
Speaker 2:I breathed a little easier. It was great seeing Leo and Freddy Fuck again. I felt like I was home after being away for a few years. It was a good feeling. We all decided to meet up at the East End of Speedway at Don. For old times' sake, speedway at Don is something else. Just as we were getting up to leave, the cops came back and started checking out the Bonnie. That asshole must have reported or stolen. Fuck it. It's time to leave.
Speaker 2:Bonnie and I walked out the side door and got in his car and drove off. I looked back and watched her until we drove out of sight. Somehow. I just knew that I would never see her again. That put me in a really shitty mood. It started flipping off everyone. I saw We'd pull up neck and neck with some asshole and not give them the one-fingered salute that started getting us a little attention.
Speaker 2:After that, buddy and me began perking up again. We got a little caravan going behind us with the car loads full of pissed off punks. Buddy kept swerving at them and then jamming on his brakes. I got them all aggravated. It's like when you keep hitting a beehive with a stick until the bees come buzzing out at you. We had to pack a wild bees behind us. All right, that made us both pretty happy.
Speaker 2:So we took a few more little white pills and it was head busting time again. Flicked a beer bottle at an old Chevy Nova piece of shit that had about 10 greasy looking pukes piled into it. Bottles shattered across their windshield and a little cracked in it too. That got them pissed and they pulled up alongside of us yelling shit, throwing them to beer cans at us. Pick up truck pulled along Buddy's side and he flicked a lit cigarette through their window. Cigarette got totally tangled up in the beard of the hippie by the window. You should have seen the look on his face when he realized that his beard was on fire. It was fucking hilarious. We were laughing so hard that Buddy ran a red light and a black. He broadsided a bread truck. It didn't explode like in the movies, but it was still pretty damn cool. Buddy went face first through the windshield. I cracked my head pretty good on the dashboard, had a fucking headache for a week, felt like a thousand hammers pounding on the back of my eyeballs. Then everything started moving in slow motion.
Speaker 2:I stepped there on my ass and completely stopped it was like a dream.
Speaker 2:People were running around shouting and crying. I was too out of it to care, snapped out of my On my days. When I heard the sirens coming, though, somehow it dawned on me that I'd better get the hell out of there, and quick. I stepped out of the car and tried to walk, but my legs felt like they were made out of rubber. I knew I had to get out of there, though, so I just started walking One foot right in front of the other until I finally got my balance. I was a little wobbly. For a few blocks I had to steady myself on parked cars, mailboxes, whatever the fuck I could find to hold on to. I'm slow going at first. Eventually, my adrenaline kicked in, probably thanks to those syphilis pills. I felt a second, maybe a third wind coming on, and I just started running as fast as my legs could manage, one foot in front of the other, away from the sirens. At first, the sirens seemed to get louder, and I thought they were on to me for sure, but gradually I got quiet again. By the time I got to the river, I could barely hear them at all. Eventually, I wound up at River Park. I stopped there to catch my breath. My legs would have given out soon anyways, if my fucking heart didn't blow out.
Speaker 2:First I laid down next to the river bank behind some bushes and just closed my eyes. The pounding in my head was unbearable, like my eyeballs were going to pop out of my fucking skull. Then I remembered Buddy Poor guy. Last time I saw him he was stretched out on the hood of his car with his face totally fucked up, flattened by the windshield. His eyes were closed and his lips were puckered like he was trying to kiss somebody that wasn't there. He looked like a total jackass. What a shit-wit. What a shit-wit I mean. I guess it could happen to anyone. Even if you kick ass every day of your ass kicking life, you can still die looking like a total jackass. Everything you've ever worked for can be wiped out in a single jackass second. That's some shit. That's the kind of stuff they don't teach you in school.
Speaker 2:I guess I passed out for a while because when I woke up I was lying in the dirt staring up at the moon. I laid there listening to the slow throbbing sounds of the crickets Seemed like they were throbbing in time, with the pounding inside my head when I couldn't stand listening to it anymore. I knew it was time to go, dragged my tired ass up, began the long walk home. My legs were fucking killing me. My knuckles were still pretty swollen and bleeding from the fights at the party.
Speaker 2:I kept to the middle of the park and then followed the darkest and most deserted streets, just in case the cops were still looking for me. Every so often I noticed a black van driving by. The first time I saw it it was a few blocks away. I probably wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't kept slowing down and then speeding up again and then tearing off into the night. Minutes later the van would reappear a few blocks away and then careen off again. To tell you the truth, it was really starting to annoy me. And wouldn't you know my luck, it had to be a fucking Ford van. Ford van suck, oh Fords suck.
Speaker 2:Anyway, the van was really annoying the crap out of me and kinda started to freak me out a little bit too, like they were stalking me or something. Either way, it was enough that I decided I'd better stay on some of the more well-traveled streets. Just as I was crossing mid-vale Boulevard, the van sneaked up alongside me and three or four guys in ski mass jumped out and grabbed me. They threw a bag over my head, zipped it up and forced me into the back before I could do so much as let one. I was tightly wrapped up from head to toe, which fucking made it impossible for me to fight back and I couldn't breathe at all, as tired as I was. I still managed to put up a pretty good fight. I screamed and kicked for a while before one of them finally knocked me over the head. I remember the pain in the back of my head and felt like some blood was starting to trickle down, but after that it went black.
Speaker 1:You have just heard the sixth installment of the crossing guard tapes. We are shutting down our transmitter now to prevent the deep state from tracing our signal. Dear listeners, due to the FBI's unrelenting effort to recover the tapes, there is a risk that they could be monitoring our site. So be sure to keep a low profile when sharing, subscribing and liking. Until next time. Co-conspirators, stay alive and spread the word. The crossing guard tapes was written and produced by Jim Waters, featuring the voice talent of Tommy Nicolai, pat Waters and Neil Kite, with original music from Pendulum Incorporated Technical support and marketing courtesy of Jazz Garrowall.