A Sasquatch in Longview

I've heard for a while now that there have been sighting of the legendary Bigfoot in east Texas. I think it's finally time to get serious about this.



I've compiled a rendering of what he probably looks like based on eyewitness reports I've seen on t.v., and I've filled in a few question marks as well.

Edgar thinks he smokes weed. I disagree.

Shreveport and a Brilliant Plan, Pt. 2

So anyway, I was so damned excited about the free open bar I made a beeline to it as soon as we arrived at the Hollywood Casino. I ordered a crown and coke because I don't get to drink those that often, especially free ones.

When the initial thrill of the bar wore off, I got to a table and started playing blackjack. No matter how much money I threw down, it was gone within thirty minutes max. Becoming angry and agitated I picked up my drink and started to walk around.

I noticed one of my buddies had a glazed over look in his eyes. I walked over to him to see if he was feeling alright. He told me he had tried to hit on a girl, but when he went over to talk to her the chair he was in slipped out from under him and he had busted ass in the middle of the casino. A less drunk friend later told me he had run over and tried to jump into the chair, and that's why he ate it.

At this point in the evening I had gone over to the free bar numerous times and ordered numerous crown and cokes. But when I went back for my 5th or 6th, the bastards had cut me off. I was befuddled. Thoughts raced through my mind. "Open bar, right. I'm not that drunk am I? No. Hell no. I've been drunker that this before and convinced policemen I'm sober." I went to the bar one more time to see if they had made an oversight. Nope, denied again. I was beginning to lose hope. I went and pouted behind a pillar beside the "free" bar. Just then I saw Wacker, and a brilliant plan was conceived.

I motioned Wacker to come behind the pillar. When he did, I told him to go to the free bar and get me a c&c. In a very non-chalant manner, he walked to the "free" bar and ordered a c&c and a corona. The big stupid asshole fuckhead bartender looked at him and then looked in my direction, catching me peeking out from behind the pillar. He told Wacker "your friend's smart, but he's not that smart." Fuck you bartender, gimme that booze. As the night progressed, I got several others to get my drinks for me.

About the time we were ready to leave, I realized I hadn't gambled very much. I decided, in my drunken haze, that I was going all out, leave nothing out on the field, piss excellence, give 110%. I went to the atm and withdrew $100. mistake.

I strutted over to the roulette table and put $100 on red. Since my high school's color was red I figured I had it in the bag. black. shit.

I walked out of the casino defeated but still real drunk. The limo was waiting outside when I got there, but there was someone standing at the door. When I got closer, I could see it was an older woman talking to some of the guys in the limo. About the time I got to the door I could hear someone say "yeah Shep will pay you for that just ask him." Like an idiot I said "pay for what?" The woman turned around "pay to see these!" She flashed me the nastiest pair of grandma tits I have ever seen. When they hit her stomach it sounded like somebody slapping a piece of raw hamburger meat. "You owe me 8 bucks for that" I was still speechless. When I finally came to I said "fuck that" and dove in the car.

As we peeled away from horrific scene, grandma flashed us one more time and gave the finger. It was quite a show.

On the trip back I kept calling the driver and telling him to stop at a strip club. Edgar chimed in and said "or a waffle shoppe" (pronounced "shoppey" by Edgar). "OK driver you got this. What ever you see first strip club or waffle shoppey, but preferably strip club." I think he said ok but the phone in the limo was shitty, so I couldn't tell.

When I woke up we were at neither at waffle shoppey, or a strip club. I was pretty pissed, but I was more tired than anything so I let it ride.

Fretty contracted a disease from the limo seat and I lost a load of money and had to see granny boobs, but all in all it was a good trip.

Shreveport and a Brilliant Plan

My buddy Jay invited me to his bachelor party a few years ago. I don't really know why I was invited. I like Jay and had known him for a while when the bachelor party went on, but was probably not the best canidate for bachelor party invitee.

We were set to meet in Longview on Saturday, but I went on Friday so I could go and get a taste of east Texas. Of course, we went to a place that had karoke. I had a pretty good time and met some cool new folks. When I get drunk and sing karoke people seem to levitate towards me. Probably because I'm having the most fun when I drink/karoke, and folks always enjoy a grown man acting like an idiot.

We had rented a stretch Excursion for the trek to Louisisana and shoved off Saturday afternoon. We stopped at a convienence store to get smokes and beer for the trip. Someone yelled at the driver to get some porn. I can't remember who this was, it could have been me, I honestly do not remember.

The driver stops at a Hastings and picks up a cut-rate shitty-ass version of girls gone wild. No one could keep their eyes on the screen, so finally someone yells at the driver to end the punishment, and thanks for a shitty porn.

About thirty minutes down the road we stop for the first of many piss/smoke breaks on the side of the highway.

We roll into Shreveport about dark and head for the Hollywood. I was excited because I'd never gambled before, and because of open bar.

I'll finish up tomorrow I've got to work now...dammitt.

Junction and the Wild Turkey Lounge

I was working on a drilling rig in Junction one summer. The tool pusher, driller, pumper, and hands were all shitty as well as the rig they were running. It was hot as balls the entire time I was there, and on about the 6th or 7th day I was there the compressor blows. The driller told us he could order one and have it installed and running by Monday (the compressor went down Thursday.)

The geologist I was there with said he was going back to Temple over the weekend and that I could either stay or go. I decided to stay.

We headed back to the motel where we were lodged. The very fine Lazy T. Tim beaded down for the evening and I told him I was going to the bar just down the street to get a much needed drink.

As I walked towards the bar, I stopped and grabbed a pack of smokes. I ask the guy at the register if he knew anything about the place. He kind of looked at me weird and said "all I know is that there are alot of fights." Great.

I strolled into the Wild Turkey Lounge about 9 o'clock to find 2 people playing pool, and one crusty old fart sitting at the bar. They all turned and looked at me as I walked in, but being cool,as I usually am, I tipped my hat and took a seat at the bar. I lit my cigarette and started watching t.v. A barmaid about my age came up and asked what I wanted to drink. I ordered my usual Coors light and continued to watch a UFC fight that was going on.

I polished my first Coors pretty fast and was about to order another when something caught my eye. I saw 3 unopened 12-packs of Pearl beer beside the icebox. I motioned for the barmaid and asked her if they had any of that Pearl beer cold. She told me they did and proceeded to get me one.

1 Coors, 3 Pearls, and 5 cigarettes later the bar was beginning to fill up. I saw a fat chick on the other side of the bar eyeing me so I put my head down and hoped for the best.

By 11 o'clock I was pretty frosty. I had struck up a conversation with the guy next to me about UFC fighting and he made some interesting evaluations on the finer points of cage fighting. One gem he laid on me was, "man, you ever seen Tank Abbott fight? That dude would knock anybodies fuckin' head off. He'd knock the head off a horse, if they'd let him!" I agreed and ordered another Pearl.

Just as my next Pearl arrived, the fat chick from earlier wobbled her way over to where I was sitting and plopped down next to me. She gave me the cliched "I haven't seen you in here before" line. Shit. I turned a foggy eye towards her and said "no, I'm not from here, I'm just here working." She then proceeded to introduce herself and her uncle (who I had been talking to the entire time.) Double shit. This hog had sent her uncle over to break the ice and seduce me with talk of cage fighting. She asked me if I was working with the rodeo that was in town. I said no and then had to explain every detail of my presence in the bar. Then she inquired, while stuffing pretzels in her mouth, if i was going to the rodeo tomorrow night. I had actually thought about going and said yes. The heifer then smiles and tells me, "well I'll be sure to look for you and grab you to go to the dance afterwards." yikes. I knew then I wasn't going within 20 miles of the rodeo.

It was about 1 o'clock and the bar was closing down. She-Hulk goes to the bathroom. I pay my tab and haul ass the hell outta there.

I made it back to the motel and crashed, but not before dead-bolting my door. I sat in bed and counted 12 Pearls, 1 Coors, and a pack of Marlboro Lights that had been consumed throughout the evening.

At 6 o'clock the next morning Tim calls. I can't see a damn thing. As I scramble to pick up the phone, I knock it on the ground. I finally wrestle the phone to my ear only to hear,"Ben, it's Tim. Listen, I just got a call from the rig and they're back up and running. So I'm going to head out there, but I'll see you there shortly, right?" I wanted to say "fuck no," but my obligations were clear.

I tore myself from the sweat drenched bed and hopped in the shower. It was by far the worst day of work ever.

Keene's Wedding

My good friend Keene asked me to be in his wedding this past December. I was genuinely excited the week leading up to the ceremony, especially since I found it would be open bar at the reception and rehearsal dinner, and because Kevin is my friend and I am happy for him and all that other stuff.

I was sitting on a rig out in Mexia the day of the rehearsal, but since the geologist was already there I was cleared for take-off.

I got to Dallas and called Burge to set up my weekend base of operations at his apartment. I went and dropped my stuff off and we went to pick up our tuxes. We got back home and put our suits on ready to go rehearse for the wedding. And by the way, I was looking sharp. Let's just say the Lone Wolf was on the prowl.

We arrived at the church, after picking Hederman up from the airport, and were greeted by the usual group of miscreants I associate with. It was good to see all the old Good-Time All-Stars again. I knew right then that I was going to get lit up and have a blast.

As the rehearsal rolled on, Kevin's brother, knowing what a group of prolific drinkers he had on his hands, made the comment about how no drinks should be brought into the church and stay in the car where they belonged. I laughed inappropriately loud and everyone looked at me. I just thought that beers didn't belong in the car...that's all.

When it was time to find out who we would be paired up with, we all walked to the front and waited to be paired up with one of Jordan's bridesmaids. I heard my name called along with Sander's and one bridesmaid to share. Pretty shitty move Keene. But all was not lost, no not by a long shot, or was it? When we went and stood together she made what seemed like a flirtatious comment about how I needed to keep my hands to myself. I suavely answered back "oh, yeah?" she said, "yeah or my husband will be pissed." Fucking great.

The dinner was at a very nice Dallas country club, much nicer than Wildflower CC in Temple. Sander had made a great slide show which was funny and heart-warming and threw a hooterbrown shout out right in the middle. It also included a picture of me and Jordan when I was really drunk and high...another proud moment for the Shepperd clan. The entire time the dinner was being served and people were beginning to give toasts, I was either rushing to the bar or rushing to the bathroom to piss. About the time I really needed to piss again, stupid ass Mac called me up to the front to give a toast. I was just drunk enough not to be nervous and not drunk enough to slur my words, it was a magical time that only comes about once every few years in the life of a binge drinker. Needless to say, I closed the place down. If NBC was there they'd have offered my a sitcom on the spot. And I ended with a Salud! like I'm Sicilian or something.

We went out after the dinner and I proceeded to get shitfaced. I had just got paid, so my pockets were exceptionally loose. I bought a guy from Venezuela a Miller but never found him, so I gave it away because I don't drink that shit. The night was winding down, so I went outside to get some fresh air and have one last cigarette. I knew I didn't have a ride home, but for some reason I really wasn't worried about it. Just then Connie Hutto pulls up in a Suburban or a minivan or something. We all hop in and I throw the idea out that taco cabana is not a bad idea. Shot down.

The wedding the next day was a blurr we got dressed and sat around, took a couple pictures and so on and so fourth until the ceremony began. It was so hot in the church I was profusly sweating the entire time and the damn shoes they gave me were killing me.

But after it was all over we retreated to the charter bus we came on only to find they had stocked it with beer and champagne...bliss? yes sir. Edgar and I struck up the band in the back singing some old Good-Time All-Star favorites. I chugged a half bottle of champagne and a beer. I was on my second half bottle of champagne when we got to the downtown petroleum club. I brought it in with me and finished it in the elevator.

The petroleum club was lavish. It was one of the nicest most elegant places I have ever been or probably will ever go. So why not get fucked up? And goodness gracious did I ever. I danced so much and so violently I ripped my pants, after that I'm quite foggy.

I felt like run over dogshit the next day and had to go back to work. Work sucks

Shep Drinks Everclear

This is a short story but hopefully enjoyable enough to merit posting.

One day my roommate Lee (who used to be crazy, but has since changed) had the idea that everclear tasted good in Mountain Dew. So, throughout the day, we went everywhere that was worth a damn in Waco with an everclear drink not too far away.

A list of some everclear induced activities:

-played drunk catch (1:00p.m.)
-went to the pool
-watched a movie
-I think we just rode around in the back of a pickup for a while
-went to La Fiesta
-went to a party
-came home and went to bed (1:00 a.m.)

It would later be known as the 12 hours of everclear. I still think I have some drain bamage from the whole ordeal.

What I did not know about everclear and drinking it in excess, was that it tears your stomach into shreads.

When I got up the next morning, I could do nothing but just lay there and spin.

I thought I needed to fart, but when I lifted my leg to expell the fowlness I shit my underwear. I had to think fast on a way to get out of bed without getting any on my sheets. Thank goodness I was wearing my ultra absorbent boxer-briefs.

As I gently rolled out of bed I grabbed the legs of my briefs so not to let any raw shit hit the floor. If anybody has ever seen our old Daughtrey house the hallway leading to the bathroom is about as wide as a piece of notebook paper. So I had to penguin walk my big shit covered ass through that damn thing, finally making it to the bathroom.

When I sat down on the toilet, it sounded like sombody spraying a high pressure hose in a mud puddle. It was probably the most relief I've ever felt.

Later on, I threw away what was left of the everclear and washed my sheets.

New Year's Eve 2006

Nothing really exciting happened this past New Years. I had a great time and got really drunk but no real epic adventures to speak of...especially no pissing in hotel ice buckets, dammitt.

This year marked the 3rd annual white elephant gift exchange, which was probably the best one yet. My bootleg Tony Romo shirt and copy of Garfield's Furry Tales was stolen to the point of item freezing. Edgar's carpet skates and helmet were hilarious. I was very close to having a "Boob Inspector" badge with a "this truck stops at all adult bookstores" bumper magnet. Hederman ended up with a Ebony kama sutra booklet, which was really pretty gross except for the wheelbarrow postion.

We got to Gilly's and I got drunk and kind of floated around for a couple hours.

Newman said I could stay in his hotel room, so after walking for what seemed like an hour we got to the hotel and I passed out.

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself fully-clothed laying next to Lee. I jokingly asked "where's the tail at?" He replied "in the next bed" with a smirk on his face. As I peered over to the next bed, I saw some possum-eyed trailer dog staring back at me. I couldn't help but laugh.

Newman is a whore.

The Time I Asked For Buttsex

This is a pretty famous story. It takes place in my more vulnerable high school days, when I assumed girls liked my dick in their butt and other such things.

I had been dating this girl for a while. I was a big football stud, she was a cross-country runner and notable swimmer. It was similar to Tom Brady and Jenny Finch getting together and dry humping on the couch every Friday night, which is exactly what we did.

One particular Friday night after a good half hour of the "Camel Slide,*" I got the bold notion to put my penis where her shit comes out. I didn't want to just up and stick my dong in her ass, no questions asked. I also had to think of a way to ask in order not to totally freak her out. Like, "can I put my penis in your butt?" I had to handle this situation with care because she was kind of a prude, which is why I was camel sliding her in the first place.

So with the sweetest tone I could muster, I gently whispered in her ear, "why don't we put it where it doesn't count?" And by "doesn't count" I meant "so you don't get knocked up." Yes folks that is how Shep asks for buttsex.

Needless to say she was appalled, but not to the point of hysteria. She simply rolled over and ,with a scowl on her face, said "I don't THINK so." She then promptly rolled back over, got up, put her clothes back on, and went home. We never spoke of the incident again and I was left to be contempt with the camel slide and her shitty blowjobs.

I found out recently that she got married. I wonder if her husband has asked for buttsex yet? Maybe I should write him an e-mail warning him.

Nah, fuck that guy.