Chapter 33: The No Wave Douche Boards the Group W Bus



Chapter XXXIII: The No Wave Douche Boards the Group W Bus

Sleeping until 1:00 PM was suddenly viewed as a good thing for I needed the additional rest and sleep was difficult on a futon. Although I had stayed in bed until nearly 11:00 PM, I still did not have much actual sleep. But, the sun was shining and I felt I needed to get outside. I was feeling a little better and the fresh air should do me some good. Being as I am capable of performing my own sex change operation should I ever decide to officially become a lesbian, I am well schooled in basic cures for minor ailments such as a fever of a 103.

For what I considered obvious reasons, I was stressing out over the bus ticket back to Milwaukee. I was afraid that they would all be sold out and I would not have a ticket home until March; and by then I would be homeless and mentally unstable. Oh well, this was Asheville and I would officially achieve my goal of merely blending in with the scenery. Also noteworthy, this was day 3 of wearing the same clothes—socks and underwear included, without a shower. I would not shower or change clothes the entire duration of the rest of the trip.

Some people do not find this a legitimate excuse for needless stress and feel that there are never any reasons to worry about anything at all—many of these people do not even worry about bathing or personal hygiene.

There is also a considerably popular phrase called “Too Blessed for Stressed” which indicates that all problems have been turned over to God and the Lord will resolve everything. Although I am extremely anti-religious from an organized sector point of view, in my troubled experiences, I have found the aforementioned statement does hold some validity. Therefore, I have never considered myself an Atheist, even though I denounce most forms of religion. If worse came to worse, I could stand on the side of the road, and Jesus would not only give me a ride, but guide me in the proper direction in which my life was meant to be.

I boarded the nightmarish passenger bus chocked full of the most outlandish display of clinically insane people since the fall of Bedlam en route to the Greyhound bus depot to purchase my ticket. This was a totally peculiar bus trip and I figured that it would hold the record for the bus ride featuring the most weirdos for the rest of my life. This should have been good preparation for a long trip on The Greyhound. I made a collective effort to sit next to the most mentally disturbed person on-board… he even put his arm around me.

However, this Greyhound Station had puzzling hours. They mysteriously closed at 1:30 PM and re-opened at 8:00 PM. That was most peculiar and I wondered if they had any affiliation with the BMV in Milwaukee. I resisted the temptation to leave an astrological compatibility chart implying that all single people employed at this Greyhound Station could surely find their soul mate in Milwaukee at the downtown BMV and simply planned to return to purchase a ticket at a later time.

After I had the essential requirement of life called coffee, I was standing on the corner listening to headphones while awaiting the bus. At first, I was a bit disturbed about having to wait for the bus again, but suddenly the music took over and I was in a state of bliss. It had occurred to me that ever since I began the NC-17 Soundtraxxx project, I had discovered a lot of bands since leaving Asheville. I now have the ability to recommend any person on Earth a song they would certainly rate a 10, by a band they had never even heard. A recent survey indicated that 67% of the world’s population would rather be turned on to new music, then turned on sexually; a 10 star 5 minute song is more arousing than inducing a 5 full minute masterpiece orgasm.

Actually, my ideal job would be making the playlists for a cool bar that needed Asheville-ized.

The Ruminant Plinth by Blurt had become one of my all-time favorite songs and I ranked it #1 for 1982 (although the scene I wrote for it involves Jeopardy's Alex Trebek being risen from the dead.) When that saxophone hit, I found myself standing on the corner of the bus stop grooving to the beat—which is a pretty intense beat. Perhaps I had been placed under a spell from the magical touch of the creepy fucking asshole who put his arm around me on the bus, but I was suddenly dancing on the corner—busting out some of the best moves since Soul Train was an International hit sensation. At times, I am unsure whether I am standing at a public bus stop, or front row of a small venue concert. Being as I consider my heaven to be a small venue concert, I opt to make heaven a place on Earth. Busting out some crazy dance moves on a public street corner is not nearly as shameful as quoting Belinda Carlisle. (And NO! that song will not be featured in the soundtrack.)

Somebody drove out of the Ingle’s parking lot and the girl in the car was staring at me. She smiled at me while I standing on a busy corner seemingly unaware that I was performing a No-Wave dance routine out in the middle of public. Furthermore, she stared the entire duration of her turn and even looked back in her rear-view mirror. She had said something to me, but I didn't hear a God damn word she said because I was wearing headphones, and her monkey ass didn't even bother rolling down the window.

Immediately I took offense to her staring at me, because I felt that she should be minding her own business. My next reaction noticed that she was my type of woman and I most definitely would have clicked on her thumbnail should I ever find her on a porn site. Then, I was uncertain if she was checking me out because she thought I was cool or if she was making fun of me for looking like a douche. Had I gone full retard right here in public in the presence of a beautiful woman? I stood there completely motionless, staring blankly off into the distance in deep thought, trying to decide whether or not I was a douche… for 45 minutes straight.

“Am I a douche?”
Still Searching for The Girl From City Market

“Am I a douche?”

I boarded the mother fucking bus and I was by far the youngest person on this bus. The mother fucking, son-of-a-bitching, shitting ass bus was chocked full of old people—way old people, mother fucking senior citizens and shit, and I assumed they were all children when they first boarded the bus, but grew this old because the fucking bus took so God damn mother fucking long to arrive. In fact, I suspected that I had grown a long white beard while waiting for the damn thing to show up.

The growing concern of my own personal douchiness quickly subsided, albeit temporarily, but it was concluded with a guilty verdict. However, I will never see that girl ever again, so it should not matter if I had gone full-retard in her presence. She will have no knowledge whatsoever that I even exist when I finally discover her porno shoot on the Internet. 

These days, there are so many options for browsing pornography on the Internet, I believe that 86% of all women have posed nude for a porn site. It’s just a matter of remembering her face and placing that image with the appropriate web site. One of my goals is to find the pictorial of somebody I had been fantasizing about on a regular basis anyway—that would make life so much easier. People should simply include the URL address of their porno shoot on their personal business cards—there is no reason to be ashamed. If I had one, I would most certainly post it everywhere.

Unfortunately, I haven’t received any offers and do not seem to be as in demand as most other people. Perhaps I need to develop a more enticing thumbnail image; or maybe I need to give myself breast implants—I just need to decide what I wish to shove in there because I do not have access to any silicone. That said, I will devise a completely new and innovative set of tits and hopefully appeal to somebody with a fetish for a nice rack surgically enhanced from this old coffee mug that I was growing weary of lugging around... I could lactate gourmet coffee creamer and finally achieve that elusive threesome with Jen and The Girl From City Market. And thus I established a new goal: I will someday have my own thumbnail called The Lactating Douche enslaved by the two hottest babes on the planet.

Despite the fact that this bus could have recently apprehended all of the escapees from the local retirement community, it smelled like marijuana hardcore. I looked around to see which one of these old mother fuckers had just smoked up at the nursing home and immediately suspected the 75 year old woman with the huge lip ring. However, I did not wish to seem stereotypical and realized most of these people had been smoking weed since 1968. It smelled like some good shit too. That’s why old people act so fucked up all the time—they know the good connections.

Since I did not eat dinner the previous night, I was starving and felt thin and frail. It was to the extreme that I was worried about being spotted by a film crew for National Geographic who wished to use my image to scam $8 a month from overly sympathetic viewers. This was a time when I was actually happy that it was cold outside because I did not have to worry about being stricken with the fly infestation commonly associated with near starvation.

My destination was La Posada, what I once considered the best Mexican Restaurant on Earth—Mexico included. All I could think about was Avocado Enchiladas and even the stoned old people in my vicinity began to take the appearance of them.  I could feel myself growing weaker from not having eaten and it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist pouncing on an elderly woman and sinking my fangs into her marijuana marinated wrinkled flesh. All passengers on the bus were rated on a scale of 1 to 10 judging how well they would taste should I resort to cannibalism.

Ever picture in your head exactly how these starving children were conceived? A famine stricken orgy?

Waiting prolonged periods for the bus was disheartening enough, and when I realized that I had boarded the wrong bus, I began considering the details of my will. Tunnel Road featured two bus lines, E-1 and E-2, and I was on the wrong mother fucking one—I did not know the exact routes of each bus. When it turned in the opposite direction, I almost screamed “NOOOO!” as it went down the path in which I had no business. There was no way that I was going to make it off this bus alive.

I contemplated forfeiting my trip to La Posada, but there weren’t any good restaurants in this part of town. Therefore, I opted to ride it out until the end, and then get off the bus on the way back. This took fucking forever, and went down a bunch of side streets that are not even listed on Google maps. Should a person select the “satellite view” option, the screen would depict static images of white noise. I had to make the best of a bad situation yet again, and simply enjoyed the scenery and viewed it as a tour of the city.

Approximately 456 zillion light years off course from where I needed to be going, I looked outside and saw this old man lying on the ground rolling around in the grass. I had no idea what the fuck this person was doing. Nor did I have any idea where this bus was going because it was outside of city limits at this point. Finally, it turned around to return to Earth. This other planet had a VA Hospital, now I remembered exactly where I was because I used to work at the VA in Cincinnati. I think I applied at this VA when I first moved to Asheville back in 2008.

On the way back, the bus stopped and that crazy old bastard who was rolling around in the grass actually got on the bus. There weren't many seats left on the bus, but the one next to me was vacant (the seat next to me is always vacant because nobody ever wants to sit by me.) I remember thinking that if he sat next to me; I was getting off the bus. I was positive that he would be exactly like that other asshole who put his arm around me; I was most certain that this guy would be pestering me for a blow job on the bus with claims that he was a Vietnam Veteran and I owed him this shit.

Worse yet, my new mp3 player was not fully charged and the battery was dying fast because I did not have the controls set properly. Hoping to salvage my last bit of battery life for the trip home, I temporarily removed my headphones. Plus, I could always put them back on if this weirdo sat next to me and tried discuss the appropriate pricing plans for a sodomy transaction.

This crazy old fucker decided not to sit down at all and stood towards the front. The entire time he was standing, he was talking out loud, in full conversation, to nobody in particular. What was he saying? Beats the living shit out of me! I didn't understand a fucking word he said. Nobody could, and he simply stood there talking a bunch of gibberish, loudly, to nobody. Fucking Asheville.

At last, the bus reached the destination where I should have disembarked in the first place. I left the bus at one bus stop, and had to wait seemingly forever again for the next bus. My mind was still craving La Posada, but my body was telling me to ditch the notion and settle for something else. I have been in so many bad situations that I figured I could last a bit longer to achieve my goal. If starvation did begin to take an adverse effect, I was positive that I could conduct some sort of surgery on myself to prevent anything serious from transpiring. If worse came to worse, I could roll the headphone jack through the grass in order to extract the moisture and then stab the headphone jack into my vein and use it as an I.V.

Some absolutely disgusting piece of shit had busted out all of the shielding from the bus stop. This was obviously maddening because there was nothing to block the cold wind from beating me in the face. But, I found this to be an even more unacceptable act of deplorable criminal behavior because committing any vandalism crime carries the same penalty regardless who or what is vandalized. This despicable piece of molded coleslaw chose the bus stop over any of the corporate businesses on the block. Who the fuck vandalizes a bus stop when there is a perfectly good mall just a few feet away?

The bus finally arrived and I was again on my way to remedy a craving I had been having for years. Once upon a time, I worked at the grocery store near this place and told every single customer that had come through my line about how great this place was. It was mine and Jen’s favorite restaurant in town and we even went there when her parents came to visit. However, I was unsure if the place would even still be there.

Starring Javier Bardem as the Asheville Bus
Once again, presenting the villain of the show, the mother fucking bus accompanied with yet another sketchy location to stop, and another uphill walk to reach a questionable destination. Walking up the hill, I recalled an incident that occurred with Jen’s dad. I liked him, and I never did anything even remotely outrageous in their presence. He was sitting quietly seemingly uninterested in the conversation Jen and her mom was having. Jen told her that I wanted to be completely ignored. Her dad suddenly looked over at me, then calmly and kindly declared, “That ain’t happening. Tony, you’re a freaking side show!” I had no idea how he made this determination because I was always on my best behavior around her parents

That became an ongoing joke between Jen and I as we had a huge list of great quotes from her dad. I was a "freaking side show" and Jen was a "fucking loose canon." Jen’s father is one of the most bluntest honest people a person could meet; that’s why everybody liked him. The best Matt Triolo quote in history was, “Yea Jen, your grandma was one miserable son of a bitch!”

I wasn’t sure how far away La Posada was from this remote part of the galaxy and hoped that it wouldn't be too far because I was growing incredibly weak from illness, undernourishment, and fatigue. Because I had been on the bus for so long, I figured that any moment the flies would be circling around my head and that there were National Geographic agents lurking around every corner.

Up in the distance, I saw the familiar Burger King, and I knew it was close; La Posada and Burger King shared the same parking lot. However, the Burger King had gone out of business and they even had the windows boarded up—this was not a good sign.

La Posada was there; open for business, and doing well. Since I had left, they had won several awards for the best Mexican Restaurant in town—when I lived there it was still fairly new. How often does an independent Mexican Restaurant run Burger King out of business? Some might argue that this is another example of how the fucking Mexicans are taking all of our jobs. Those same mother fuckers, usually right wing conservatives, also preach about how great capitalism is, and cherish the words of Charles Darwin’s theory on survival of the fittest. Hmm, their two theories really got fucked up in that situation didn’t it?

The Avocado Enchiladas were not quite as good as I recalled. Once upon a time, they were a featured item in an insert in the middle of the menu. Plus, I had forgotten to tell them to leave off a couple things. Regardless, they were still great, even though I am not sure I would rate them the #1 Mexican Dish on Earth. I sent a picture of them to Jen, and I have no idea why I did so. Well, I have lots of reasons why, but who the fuck cares at this point? They did serve as a healthy remedy and I felt better after this.

For the next duration of the walk, I visualized myself as a prominent figure in the medicine industry and conducting press conferences on how to remedy all illnesses. Barnes & Nobles would feature self-help manuals written by me, a leading expert in the field of self-remedied miracles capable of curing anything. There are no diseases, only fabrications for profits.

When I looked up the bus schedule, I assumed that all Asheville buses went back to the bus depot—called ART Station. Therefore, I did not think it mattered which bus I boarded because the ultimate destination was the bus depot. I stopped at the first bus stop sign I saw and boarded the first bus that approached.

This Group W bus went all over the damn place. I was on the mother fucker for well over an hour, and wondered when the hell it would reach the bus depot. The fear intensified when the bus driver stopped, pulled over to the side of the road, and without saying one word to anybody, abandoned the bus and ran as fast as he could to KFC. He disappeared for almost long enough for a missing persons report to be validated, and I wasn’t even sure if he was coming back or not. Surely somebody would drive past, see me on the Group W bus, and then I could finally achieve my goal of being commonly perceived as a creepy father raper. Finally, he returned, and just kept driving as if nothing happened.

In my head, I visualized that I moved to the front of the bus and confronted the driver as to what the fuck just happened. “What the fuck did you do? Take a shit? How was the chicken? Around here, we don’t just abandon the bus on the side of the road without telling mother fuckers where you’re going ahead of time. Plus, you can develop a gluten allergy from eating that shit!”

We had gone almost full circle and my battery in my mp3 player was officially dead. I looked around and declared that every person on this bus was a fucking weirdo. I decided to write a series of billboards for Asheville, such as: Are you at risk of being placed in an asylum? Avoid being institutionalized, move to Asheville, North Carolina. I was by far the most sane and most boring person on the bus. These were the types of people who brought strange skinny boys home with them and jacked off within the first few minutes of association.

At this point, I was tired of being on the damn bus, or waiting for the bus, or sitting at mother fucking KFC worried sick that the driver had just died from a gluten allergy. This had taken up a significant portion of my time. Finally, I asked the dude if this bus went to the ART Station, and was told no; so he told me to get off the bus now and catch this other bus that might be arriving shortly.

Something told me not to do this, but the bus driver insisted; he basically stopped and threw my ass off the bus. I guess he was getting tired of looking at me, or he knew in the back of his mind that I was growing overly suspicious about the KFC mission.

This would have been a long walk and I was giving myself a time limit for when I would surrender all hope for the bus and resort to Plan B. It was almost dark outside, and I realized that I had wasted a lot of time by being on the wrong bus twice in the same day. I realized that I was standing directly in front of the Biltmore Estate. While I lived in Milwaukee, I discovered that this is what most people know about Asheville. They would ask where I moved from, I told them Asheville, and the responses varied from, “Oh, I love Tennessee,” to “I heard that place is beautiful, “to “where the fuck’s that?” to “what the fuck are you doing in Milwaukee?” To “oh, is that where the Biltmore Estate is?”

The Biltmore Estate: I lived here for a short period but opted for a small efficiency instead.

This bus finally arrived, and I made it back at the exact precise moment when it is considered night—I had planned on being gone for maybe an hour or two. All I wanted to do was buy a fucking Greyhound ticket and eat at La Posada… and I still didn’t have the damn bus ticket. And that’s when the voice began its recurring theme of saying the same phrase over and over again; “You can’t be afraid to die.”

Index: Chapter List
Chapter 33 Soundtrack Listing:

1. Blurt
"The Ruminant Plinth" 5:36


2. Slaughter
"Disentegrator - Incenerator" 5:33

Bloody Karnage

3. Vágtázó Halottkémek
"Ki Vele, Az Istenért!" 4:09

A Halál Móresre Tanítása

4. Gai
"How Long Do You Give Me" 4:39


5. Sielun Veljet
"L'amour" 4:02


6. Dirty Beaches
"Horses" 4:07


7. Reifenstahl
"Intellektuell" 4:06

Die Wunderwaffe

8. Monoshock
"Crypto-Zoological Disaster" 8:20

Walk to the Fire

9. Cock Sparrer
"Take 'Em All" 2:33

Shock Troops

10. Kino
"Prosnis" 3:32

Это не любовь

11. Los Llamarada
"Break the Silence" 4:23

The Exploding Now

12. Radiohead
"The National Anthem" 5:52

Kid A

13. Led Zeppelin
"Wearing and Tearing" 5:29


14. Pop. 1280
"Nature Boy" 4:14

The Horror

15. Haymarket Square
"Ahimsa" 8:14

Magic Lantern

16. The Grodeck Whipperjenny
"Evidence for the Existance of the Unconscious" 5:59

The Grodeck Whipperjenny

17. Dexy's Midnight Runners
"One Of Those Things" 6:01

Don't Stand Me Down

18. Zeni Geva
"On Suicide" 5:57

Maximum Money Monster

19. Wigwam
"Prophet/Marvelry Skimmer" 8:40


20. Arlo Guthrie
"Alice's Restaurant Massacree" 18:37

Alice's Restaurant

All Sections Written, Designed, and Music Compiled by Tony J. Neal

Group W reference from Alice's Restaurant Massacree, written by Arlo Guthrie
Girls Gone Wild bus shared from The Princess Vet
Famine Photo shared from Daily Kos
Javier Bardem from No Country for Old Men; written by Cormac McCarthy, directed by Coen Brothers, image shared from E-Online
Biltmore Estate image shared from Twirling Clare


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