DISCLAIMER
: This story is in no way endorsed by or affiliated with the Insane Clown Posse or Psychopathic Records. It is NOT implied that ICP or any real persons mentioned in this story are depicted accurately or condone the behaviors portrayed. It also does not attempt to define or exemplify the Juggalo lifestyle. Juggalos come from many different backgrounds and lead such vastly different lives that trying to portray a 'typical' Juggalo would prove impossible. There are Juggalos of all races, all classes, all genders, and all sexual orientations, and this story is only meant to reflect a small, fictional group within that larger whole.
EPISODE 1: HOT TICKET
Chapter 3: Picking up the Tickets
BRUCE CARROLL'S HOUSE
(Possible Shangri-La??)
HENDERSON, NEVADA
The dinner was amazing. Bruce Carroll could cook, and the wine he paired with the meal was a perfect choice -- perhaps too perfect as Liz thought it so delicious that she probably drank more than she should have. She'd already had to remind herself twice that she needed to slow down, and she reluctantly waved him off when he asked about opening another bottle.
"Maybe in a little bit," she said. "I think I need some water first."
"Of course," he replied as he refilled her water glass. "Probably for the best as I tend to get a little carried away with this stuff. I've been known to drink myself sick with it because it's one of my favorites."
"I can see why; it is really good." Then she teased, "If I'm not careful, I'll end up forgetting why I'm here."
Bruce paused and regarded her as if he was confused. Before she could explain though, he snapped his fingers.
"That's right! You're here for the tickets. Sadly, in my quixotic idealization of the evening, I convinced myself that you made the trip crosstown tonight simply for the pleasure of my company, but that's not the truth, is it?"
"That's not at all what I meant," she quickly replied. "I've definitely enjoyed the company, and I still am. I did come for the company, otherwise we could simply have met anywhere to exchange the tickets and that would have been that. Honestly, I was looking forward to dinner ever since you suggested it. I'm just worried that I'm enjoying it so much that I'll forget to get the tickets and when my friends ask for theirs tomorrow, I'll be empty handed. You know what I mean?"
"Tomorrow?" he asked, coyly. "You have plans for the whole night?"
Liz smiled. "Whenever I see them next, I mean."
Bruce nodded in silence and stared into her eyes from across the table. "We wouldn't want to disappoint." He smiled and finished his glass of wine in a large gulp. "Let me get the tickets and then we can continue without worry."
"It's fine; they can wait."
"No, it's best to get the business out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of our evening unhindered," he said as he stood up and folded his napkin on the table. He put a hand on the corner to stabilize himself. "Maybe we
both
should slow down on the wine," he laughed. "You needed...four tickets?"
"Three."
"That's right, three. And we agreed on..." He paused and smiled again, much wider this time. "...$600?"
Liz blushed. "Yes."
"Give me a minute and I'll be right back."
With that, Bruce left the room, and Liz quickly downed her glass of water before pouring another to sip on. She sat back in the chair and basked in her surroundings.
Bruce Carroll had exquisite taste. Thick marble counter tops. Faux stone floors that would heat at the touch of a button. Even a refrigerator with a computer screen built into the door so the owner could be informed when to buy milk, how much cheese was left, and when the beer had reached an acceptable drinking temperature. That last one would really come in handy at home, Liz thought. After transporting warm beer in her trunk through the desert heat uncountable times, she tried all sorts of ways to cool it faster when she got home. Almost without exception, every time she took that first beer out of the fridge or freezer, it was not cold enough and she was stuck with a drink that was as warm as piss.
Not with a fridge like this
, she thought.
But she was obviously dreaming. She couldn't imagine a refrigerator like this in her future, as awesome as that might be. It was way out of her league. She was lucky to simply make rent some months.
However, Bruce did seem to like her. He wouldn't have went through all the trouble of cooking her an elaborate three course dinner, complimented by expensive wine with a name she couldn't pronounce, just so she could pick up her tickets and leave. This was a date...of sorts.
No
, she told herself,
not a date 'of sorts', but a real, honest-to-goodness date. And a date that seemed to be going well at that.
She had kept it cool but tried to subtly flirt here and there throughout the meal so he would know she was interested. He, on the other hand, was as unsubtle as a hatchet in a china shop, really laying on the charm and complimenting her at every chance and laughing at all her jokes -- even the dumb ones. He also really seemed to listen, hanging on her every word, responding in turn without ever interrupting -- a perfect gentleman.
He might just be a keeper
, she thought with excitement, but she quickly pushed those thoughts away, fearful that she might jinx it. She would simply take it one step at a time and nothing more.
Hope for the best, expect the worse, and you'll never be disappointed.
That was one of the few pieces of worthwhile wisdom her mother imparted to her before she kicked Liz out of her house. That one and:
Always do an extra check wipe when you crap because you don't want to have shitty panties.
"Come on back here," Bruce's voice beckoned from the next room. "And bring your glass."
Liz took another quick sip of water before picking up her empty wine glass and leaving the kitchen. When she rounded the corner to where his voice was coming from, she found carpeted steps that led down into a sunken game room, complete with its own full size fridge and bar, a large screen TV / stereo combo, two pinball machines in the corners, and a pool table as its centerpiece.
"We need to have another glass of wine to celebrate the transaction. You're going to the heart of it all, and you'll be blown away, I promise you. It's like nothing you can imagine." Bruce said as he refilled his and her glasses completely up to the rims, almost overflowing hers.
"So you've been to the Gathering before?" she asked.
"Twice. It's absolutely insane."
"Nice."
"And I'm hoping there still might be a chance I can make it again this year, even if it's only for a single day because I guarantee it will be the highlight of your year," he said smiling.
For the first time that evening he was projecting genuine giddiness. Liz had him pegged as maybe a casual admirer of the Clowns, probably in it for the hipster aspect or maybe to get laid, but this newly revealed piece of his personal history combined with the boyish fervor he now exuded painted a whole new picture. He might just really be a fan. Maybe not quite ready to label himself a Juggalo, but it wasn't far off in her opinion.
"I kept a ticket for myself instead of selling them all," he said, "just in case. It's a long shot, but if there's anyway I can make it work, I'll be there."
"Cool. We'll have to meet up. We'll be at the same exclusive tents and parties, right?"
"With these packages," Bruce said as he nodded at the bag he held, "you bet on it. And wait, I have a surprise before I give you the tickets. Give me a second."
Bruce tossed the bag onto one of the pinball machines and rushed over to the TV and opened a drawer beneath it.
"What is it?" Liz giggled before carefully taking a sip of her wine to bring the level down from near overflowing so she wouldn't spill any on the room's plush white carpet.
Bruce bent over the drawer and quickly flipped through some CDs.
"Don't leave me in suspense. What you got?" Liz asked.
"It's a song. I know you'll like it. I'll give you a hint. Its on
Forgotten Freshness Volume 1
."
She thought for a second, and it instantly hit her. "You're playing 'Fat Sweaty Betty,' aren't you?"
He found what he was looking for and put the disc into the player next to the TV.
"I own some of the Joker's Cards, but I haven't listened to much of their other stuff. When you said that was your Juggalo name the other night, I realized I'd never heard that song. You got me curious, so I bought it because you were coming over. I want to see who it is I'm really dealing with." He laughed but quickly stopped when he looked over at Liz. She wasn't smiling. He began to look concerned, as if he may have stepped over the line in making light of her name. His voice turned serious, "Is that okay to listen to it?"
"Of course," Liz said with a forced chuckle. "But you're gonna be disappointed. Sorry to say but there's not really much to read into that song. I'm not at all like the chick in it. I don't even like the song that much because it's definitely not one of their best, in my opinion. I probably only heard it a handful of times. The only reason my friends gave me the nickname is because my name's Liz-- as in ElizaBETH...Bettie -- that, and I also sweat a lot." After a slight pause she quickly added, "I mean, I don't sweat like a freak or anything, but when I work out or whatever, I definitely sweat. I sweat when I dance at the club, and I sweat when I'm working it in bed because I can't help but go hard and give it my all when I'm doing something I enjoy. So I guess..."
"Damn, that sounds hot," Bruce said, interrupting her with a smirk.
"Just play the song," Liz blushed, feeling she'd said too much. "I haven't heard it in forever."
Bruce smiled and the music started. As they listened, Bruce did a little impromptu dancing. He clumsily shuffled his feet and swung his arms back and forth across his body. He tried to sing along, but it was obvious he didn't know the words.
Liz watched and smiled and even swayed a little on her own with the beat, but she couldn't get into it. However, she encouraged Bruce to continue while sipping her wine and he did.
When she had halfway finished her glass, Bruce danced his way over to her and tried to top her off with the bottle, but she waved her hand to decline. He shrugged and began drinking straight out of the bottle himself, downing the whole thing before the song finally ended.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, he suddenly turned to her. "You were right: the girl in the song is nothing like you."
"Is it the lack of balls on my part?" Liz asked playfully, referring to the twist in the last verse where Betty is revealed to have balls instead of a pussy.
Bruce laughed, "Well, I guess there's that. And you're not a bit fat, that's for sure. You're a very fine woman with a perfect shape."
"Thank you. Only being honest."
"I'm also not a total slut like Betty."
