As I pulled in to the parking lot of the DB Mart, I noticed a familiar truck, as well as some less than friendly faces poking out of the bed. I steadily slowed the car down within the lines of my desired parking space, turned off the ignition, slid the keys out and pulled the handle up to open my door. I noticed that one of the heads was already facing my direction.

            “Hey Man “Sucks on Dick” Nellis! How’s it going today? Have you had anymore gay sex with Jonny?” Rob Bueller asked oh so politely. He is the captain of the high school football team and here with him was his usual posse of wanton penal stroker’s. They think I’m gay and my New York accent just gives them more incentive to pick on me for being “foreign.” Hardy ho-diddly-ar! My voice sounds different and they think they can just walk all over me.

            “Yo’, that was very funny Robby my man, but yo’ know what’s real hilarious? How last year yo’ took it in the anal secta’ with a hockey stick in the showa’ room on that Friday deal!” My rebuttal would send him over the edge.

            He stood up and swiftly jumped over the side of the truck and landed firmly on the ground, and so did the other two guys that were sitting in the truck bed with him. I wasn’t exactly sure who they were, but I have seen them around the campus, usually flirting with Rob and flashing their “bling” or whatever plastic items were hanging from their grossly huge necks that made their craniums resemble a penis rather than a head.

            “You think you are real funny don’t you? Well, how would you like me to show you the way in to the store then?” He stormed towards me and grabbed me by the collar.

            “Anger problems, Robby? Perhaps if you quit injectin’ the ‘roids into yo’ butt hole you would not feel so irritable in the old noggin there Robby!” I patted him on the head like a little doggy, this really pissed him off; he proceeded to slam me up against my car.

            “Fuck you! I’m going to do what those ni***** should have done to your punk ass back in the slums you asshole.” He screamed in my face, looking me dead in the eye. The veins in his forehead seemed to be bulging. “I know you were the piece of shit that brought that up last year, and now I’m going to fuck you up like they did me.”

            His two partners in love came up and grabbed me by the shoulders. I began to struggle but to no avail, they took me and hurled me through the glass door of the convenience store. I felt the sting of glass shards in my face, I heard the smash and crackle of broken window bouncing off the floor. I laid there on the welcome mat dazed, I heard someone shout “What the hell was that?” Then someone yell “Go back to Queers or Queens or wherever the hell you’re from you little faggot!” That was probably Robby, and the aforementioned was probably the clerk. No matter, I could barely move.

            That happened in October, but now it was December, and Robby’s football team had just taken the state championship and they were smugger than ever. I tried to avoid them, biding my time. I kept trying to think of a way I could get them back. I’m not one to call the police, I like my own kind of justice, but what to do was just out of reach.

            I sat down one day at lunch again with Jonny and Derek and a couple other cats, but their names are irrelevant to the purpose of this <Insert word pertaining to genitalia here> story. Someone on the opposite end of the table mentioned how the football team was going to throw and open house keg party in a couple weeks, and all were invited to celebrate the glorious victory. I sat there and pondered the possibilities for a while. If there was anyway I could really get them back, it had to be then, right in the midst of their own celebration. It would be like kicking a man in the groin who has a raging erection. I figured since there would be an insane amount of drinking, since high amounts of testosterone seem to encourage the consumption of things like alcohol, and liquids would bring up the opportunity of spiking. I thought of a couple of substances that could make for a very eventful party: laxatives, some date rape drugs, or maybe just take a simple piss in the damn thing. I figured I should ask for some suggestions on this matter.

            I looked across the table, “Hey Jon, you ever spike drinks?” I asked.

            “Yeah, dozens of times.” He replied. His eyes looked up from his tray, seems I sparked some interest.

            “Coo’, well I need some ideas to spike a keg. I have a few things: crappers, GHB, but those man, seem real old. I wanna’ mix that will really get the party started, if you know’s I mean?”

            “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear.” He stroked his goatee, contemplating the proposed question. “I suppose a mix of Viagra and the laxatives would be cool.”

            I thought for a second, and it didn’t take me long to realize that alcohol, erections, and lots of shitting would be perfect, I decided I would make him aware of my acceptance of his demon concoction.

            “Very nice Jonny, I see this going somewhere.”

            The bell began to ring and I chucked the rest of my lunch into the trash pail in the aisle. I still felt a bit parched, and there was choclate milk that looked like it was still closed on the opposite end of the table out of my grasp.

            I asked Jonny for his assistance in getting the carton. “You don’t want that.” He replied.

            “Why wouldn’t I?”

            “I jizzed in it.”

“Very professional.”