Willie Smith

HOW THE COPS FIXED MY ASS

Featuring Free Bass Explosion with Mark Dalton on bass, Tim Leahy on bass, and Michael Hureaux on conga, circa 1992

I was bung out of dung. I was bunged in. I didn’t know where to crap I was gonna get any more dung. I checked inside my wallet and nope – not a turd, not so much as a drop of piss. I was bung out of dung, I was bunged in.

I knew there was a lot of dung downtown. I could smell it. All that dung rolled inside paper assholes, crammed inside cash registers, bung up in the banks, bunged sky high to the lid of the First National Bank Tower.

I tried bunging my way onto a bus. But nope, no soap. The driver slammed the door in my nose because I didn’t have so much as a drop of piss. I was bung out of dung, I was bunged in.

So I hitchhiked and it rained and I got downtown a little later than I had hoped, but Lord – the stench of dung was overpowering! Bunged-out winos crumpled to the sidewalk like men made of turd. Businessmen shiny as piss walked by and grinned at themselves in shop windows across the street. I was sickened. There was nothing else to do.

I entered a bank and shot the teller and stuffed my jeans with clean green dung. Easy as pie. One, two, three. I ran out filthy with dung, and almost made it to the new car I was about to buy, when BUNG! BUNG! BUNG! The cops shot my ass off.

That’s how the cops fixed my ass.