South of Heaven

Day With Damien- Day 15

“South of Heaven”
February 2, 2002

Written by: Aleister Shiva
It was a trip unlike any others, as we’ve made this trip many a time in search of the infamous “Donkey Whore”. It was me, Damien, Miraslov, Taco, Ryan and someone else who isn’t important. We all pile into my truck as we always do, and head for a shit hole motel at the Mexican border. We settle ourselves in our room, pound some beers, and begin our walk to the border where we risk our lives in a Tijuana taxi cab to get to the beautiful, world famous Revolution street.

We began the bar hopping at “Club A”, as the night wore on, we hit many a bars, such as “Papas and Beer”, “Margaritaville” and others. The first action of the evening started at “Club Bambi”. We already had a couple of rounds in us and “Club Bambi” was the prime spot to get our groove on. Whores and beers, what more does a man need? After slugging down a few of Tijuana’s finest pisswater, we had to make a trip to the head where Paco waited for tips just to stand by the door. As we wait in line for our turn at the trough, some poor bastard gets whacked across the cocksucker with an empty bottle. Blood and glass went everywhere as Paco just stood and watched, doing nothing to help the poor bastard, while awaiting a tip to stand by the door. Paco, you suck! Damien was the last to leave the commode, as he was leaving, Paco stopped him wanting a tip. Damien told him to fuck off and said that he didn’t deserve shit for just standing there and being an asshole. As Paco felt very offended by this, the cocksucking doorman yelled over and over for the “Policia”. Miraslov just bought a new round of pisswater beer and cheap tequila shots, unaware of what just happened in the bathroom. Damien, luckily not too far gone yet, realized this could be BIG trouble, demanded that Miraslov forget about the 5 dollars he just spent on cheap ass beer and shit tequila and get the fuck out as fast as we can, as we did not desire to become Mexican jail love slaves. We ran for about a block when our thirst caught up with us. We then ducked into the next nearest shit hole, roach infested, gentlemans club.

Here at this fine establishment, we endulged in more alcohol where Miralsov took center stage. Damien was buying tequila poppers for everyone when Miraslovs small man attitude took over. I’ve never seen so much alcohol poured into such a small frame. You poor bastard. (LOVE YOU MAN!) We were all cheering for him, he held his head back as they poured, 10 seconds, 15, 20, 30 seconds, he’s still going! More people start to turn their attention towards Miraslov, the whole bar begins to cheer for him, “DRINK, DRINK, DRINK” he went for just over a minute. (Miraslov, you are my hero!) Then taking him, shaking his head and tackling him on the ground. Afterwards, he stood up with his arms in the air, smiling as everyone was cheering and shaking his hand like he just fucked Hilary Clinton. It was a proud moment for all of us.

As at the previous bar, blood was also shed here as another poor bastard was passed out face down at the tip rail of this so called “strip club”. The entertainer on stage at the time, (who we are sure is just working her way through college) felt very offended by this and decided a high heeled shoe to the face might earn her a tip. The bastard never woke up. As he fell to the floor, he only got in everyone else’s way. As we wipe our feet on this poor bastard and work our way to the tip rail, we come to realize that this entertainer is hygienically challenged, as the forest of black, nappy pubic hair surrounded her tiny g-string and mopped the stage. It was sick, and she stunk too, real bad. Once again, we were on the run!

The next place of pleasure we decide to visit, I forget the name, is semi normal, except for the electro-shock therapy which we had to try. At this point, we could hardly walk straight and man, were the mystery meat tacos sold on the street quite tasty. Out of nowhere, Ryans girlfriend showed up. She wanted to go with us and Ryan told her no, since this was and always is a guy trip. NO CHICKS! As women cannot appreciate whores and beers the way we do. Once she caught up with us, all they did was fight and scream at each other, it sucked. So we decided to go our separate ways and see what the next bar had to offer.

At this point, we were on the lookout for anything other than Mexican pisswater, so Miraslov, Taco and I decided to go on a journey alone, when a mirage appeared called “Chuty’s House of Beer”. We couldn’t believe our eyes, it was as if we struck gold! At the front door, also known as a black velvet curtain, were pictures of some very beautiful latin ladies, no joke. We thought to ourselves “What more could you ask for? WHORES AND BEERS!” Then we passed through this velvet curtain. This curtain, much being like I envision, the gates of hell, was a moment in my life that I’ll never forget. Once our eyes focused through the darkness, we saw the fattest, nastiest, stinkiest whores on earth. (You thought the gross page here is gross, go to Chuty’s!) We were on the run again. As we ran, we bumped into the whole crew once again, this time though, without Ryans girlfriend who he had ditched a block away. So the 3 of us took advantage of the situation and decided to play a little joke on Damien, Ryan, and the not so important guy.

We convinced them the we found a place that they HAD to see. Damien and Ryan stood outside of the velvet curtain in amazement of what the signs suggest that are inside, as we did, HA HA HA! Miraslov and I gave the two a little (ok, large) shove through the gates of hell. To our amazement, the 2 did not re-appear for some time. We waited around outside this shit hole establishment thinking these 2 would wise up and come out. At this point, we were getting kind of worried and braved the velvet curtain once again, in search of our friends. Much to our amazement, as if things weren’t wierd enough already, we find Ryan and Damien deep inside the cum stained walls of this thinly disguised Tijuana whore house. Sitting at a makeshift picnic table were our 2 sick friends sitting with 3 rentable skanks. One was in the middle of them and one was on each side. Damien, now extremely intoxicated, was trying to work a free hand job from the scumbag he had his arm around while she’s grindning his cock with her hand outside of his pants.

Ryan had better things on his mind and we’re talking about the mind inside of his shorts. As we decide to sit down with these 2 sick fucks, another “fine” slab of disease infected Mexican cum catch lay across the table as if it was an all you can eat salad bar. Ryan pulls out his dick and asks the cockswallower how much it is for a blowjob. After he talked her down to 20 bucks, she charged him his last 10 for the condom. She slapped the jimmy on him and blew him right there in front of us. It was insane! While Ryan was getting blown, Damien was grabbing one of her tits and slapping her ass as we were all taking turns doing the same. After about 5 minutes, she stopped sucking him off and started walking away. Ryan was pissed. He stood there with a total hard on screaming at the cunt to finish what he paid for. She said it would be more money and he was now broke. He ended up leaving 30 bucks lighter than he walked in with and some sore ass blue balls!

At this point Miraslovs tequila pounding night was almost over, as we all felt the same and decided that if we stay much longer on this side of the border, we may never return as anal virgins. So we hopped our happy asses once again into the infamous Tijuana taxi and headed for the good ol’ USA.

We returned to our room only to find Ryan’s woman awaiting us with fire in her eyes. We knew then, the night was far from over, for Ryan at least. Miraslov, Taco and the not so important guy decide to crash. Damien and I were still hungry, so we went across the parking lot to the McDonalds to get something to eat while Ryan engaged in LOUD verbal conflict with his then, bitch. Much to our amazement after our return from the golden arches, she was gone and all was quiet, until the next morning when Ryan decided to tell all.

She asked us what happened the night before. Ryan stepped up to the plate with blue balls of steel and told us to tell her THE TRUTH of EVERYTHING that happened. So we, being the good friends that we are, did as we were asked. Ryan sat quietly in the corner as Damien and I explained the entire night, Chuty’s and all, to the demonistic silhouette of his woman in the doorway of our hotel room. She never even flinched as we told her every adulterating detail. She slowly turned and disappeared as they walked out the door together. Ryan was outside with her for about 5 minutes. He walked back inside alone, and smiling. She was driving home by herself and he was coming back with us. No problems. We asked him what happened. None of us could believe that he wanted her to know everything and she wasn’t even mad. What the hell?

Ryan told her that he “made up” a story to tell her just to piss her off for following us around. He said that we all practiced telling the story because we knew we were going to see her again at the motel room and he wanted to get back at her for irritating all of us. It worked like a charm! He told her the same story before we did and she fuckin believed that it was fake! That’s why she wasn’t mad when we told her. We were truly amazed at the guts Ryan had for pulling it off, and we all respected him for it.

After a good night of beer guzzling, tequila shooting, whore bashing and waking up with ONE HELL of a hangover, we had one last tradition to fulfill. As anybody would, feeling as shitty as we always do, we stop off in La Jolla on the way home to do a little cliff diving. There’s nothing like cliff diving when you’re half dead already anyways. It’s the best way to puke all over yourself and wash it off at the same time, so try it. It works.

The end.