The Best Punch I Ever Threw: Part 4

Posted: March 4, 2011 in Nonfiction

When the man left a silence filled the room. Confusion, fear, and disbelief all hung in the air like different scents at a party. Did that really just happen? What the hell is going on here? Is this place a madhouse, or am I just being a terrible snob?

The people we’d encountered had been maniacs, but aside from the old lady, nobody was really rude. We were being welcomed into this world through the Looking Glass, we just weren’t sure if we were going to make it out. What’s the appropriate response to obscene hospitality?  

I didn’t know how to react.

One thing about comics; we’re always comics.

It’s a blessing and a curse, you have a sense of humor that’s always demanding front row seats for every show inside of your head. And it plans on heckling when it gets bored or anxious. It helps you cope for sure, but in the wrong state of affairs, it makes you look like either an idiot or an asshole. This was not a situation one finds themselves in regularly, and I didn’t know how to behave. How do you put yourself in a mood to entertain a bunch of strangers when you’re pretty sure you’re getting murdered later? How do you pretend you’re okay in a town where the nicest dude you’ve met is a SantaSquatch who’s laughs are flammable?

We dealt with it the best we could. We laughed. We laughed and we laughed and we laughed and we laughed and we did impressions the guy. We laughed until we could ignore the fact that just moments ago he’d sent small streams of piss trickling down both our legs.

We laughed until we could pretend we weren’t affected by it all. Then Mike and I explored the rest of the room . It was similar to the last one. That’s not to say matching, nothing in this place matched, but it was about the same. Say what you want, this place held onto it’s motif: Late 90’s serial killer.

There was another Microwave on a chair, and a coffee pot. There were a couple mismatched chairs and two cheap beds. Our TV was sitting on a desk that would have been discarded from the frat house I lived in in college… and I did not live in a house where people threw stuff away. A VCR was attached to the TV by another jumble of cords. I feel the need to point out that this story took place one year ago. 2010. And the TV was still hooked up to a VCR.

I noticed that the VCR was currently playing. I turned on the TV, fairly certain that I’d see a creepy water logged little girl climbing out a well, some dead horses, and a gradual eclipse. But that’s not what I saw.

What I saw. Was hardcore pornography.

There was porno playing on the VCR. Graphic Porno. We had just walked into this room. I know porno tapes are long. 4-6 hours. But I also know that when you keep something playing in a VCR, it goes until the end, it stops, then it rewinds, Then it ejects. Somebody was watching that porno.

I remember thinking. “God I hope this place is just haunted by a perverted ghost.”

“What the Hell is that?” asked Mike. He’d been checking out the bathroom when I unexpectedly filled the room with the sounds of two girls fucking an old man. “It’s porno Mike.” I said matter-of-factly. “I believe that, specifically, is called a Daisystring.”

“This place has porno channels?” Mike asked, appropriately surprised.


“You mean…?”


“…this is a place in my nightmares.” Mike whispered.

At this point I ran my idea of a ghost pervert past him. He didn’t buy it.

I hit eject on the VCR. The name of the porno was Barely Legal 46. I was relieved to see that it was at least a legit porno. Not a black tape with hand written titles on a sticker. I don’t know why. I pulled out the top drawer of the desk I found 9 other porn tapes inside: Several Hustler videos, a couple of “Up and Cummers,” but mostly more Barely Legals.

(This is completely irrelevant to the story, but it’s funny: I saw that one of the pornos in the drawer was the very first Barely Legal, Barely Legal 1,  it came out in 1999. Barely Legal 46, the latest Barely Legal in this collection, came out in 2004. Which means within 5 years the good folks at Barely Legal pumped out nearly 50 separate pornos. That’s twice as many episodes as there were of the cartoon “The Critic.” And it’s At Least, 184 hours of pornography. That’s more hours of footage than “The Office.” That’s a remarkable amount of porn.)


Further exploration of the room was pretty uneventful, but we did find another guy’s checkbook. It was stuck to the bottom of a drawer in the nightstand. I pulled it out and immediately regretted my decision of tugging on anything sticky in this hotel room. It wasn’t the same guy who’s bank book we’d found. Which was relieving. At least whoever’s killing these people I thought, isn’t stealing their identities. I figured my folks will miss me, sure, but at least this won’t ruin their credit.

As insane as all of this had been, the fact remained that we had a job to do, and I was exhausted. It was only like 6, maybe 6:30. I still had time for that nap. My entire life I’ve had the uncanny ability to sleep in any circumstances. I don’t HAVE to get my sleep, I’m not a baby, I’ve pulled many all-nighters and gone on incredibly long road trips. I’ve had jobs that started early, and I’ll admit I’ve gone on drug benders where I’ve missed way more than one night’s sleep, but, if allowed to, I can always grab a few hours when I need them.

I turned down the sheets and took off my shirt. I started to get into bed. Then I reflected on the porno and sticky bankbook and put my shirt back on before I laid down. I didn’t want any skin touching anything in this place. Mike laid down in his bed, the one closer to the door. He had put on gloves.

I started to drift off into a light nap. Mike spoke softly, soft enough that if I was sleeping he wouldn‘t have woken me up.

“Hey DJ,”

“Yeah Mike.”

“If we live through this, it’s going to be a great story.” 

He had no idea.

Here’s a good spot to leave off I think. I probably won’t post again until monday, I really hope you’ll come back. I’ve spent a long time setting this up and I’m ready to start closing in. I’ve spent 4,000 words now and haven’t even gotten to the story yet, but I promise things are picking up soon, the craziness will launch in a second. I’m really glad you’re hanging around. It’ll be worth it, promise. Oh yeah. And I still need a name for this.


  1. jason says:

    I am hooked

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