The Chronic'les or Brotherhood of the Traveling Quater-pounder

The Autumn sunset reflecting off of the glass panels of the McDonalds both confounded and mystified me for a few seconds then I realized people on the otherside of the glass were staring outside at me so I walked in.

My friend [Hogzilla], a short, fatter version of Napoleon Dynamite with mild-dyslexia and piggy nose and ears (hence the name) was working the fryer in the back when he noticed me walk in. The night before had rocked balls, Motley Crue at the Forum in Inglewood, nothing better, Hogzilla being Hogzilla had spent the night punding yeger and taking puffs from his dug out while I had thrown myself head long into the mosh pit or as Hogzilla said I had phrased it, "Gone to grope in the mosh."

Today had started off as an avergae working Saturday, but not for me, Hogzilla told me he'd be working until eight so I had to go and make my own fun but before I left Hogzilla handed me something that struck me as dubious at first-it was a quater-pounder. Now don't get me wrong here I'm not a vegetarian or anything but after years of fastfood it all tasted like ash in my mouth to me, but I was stoned-fuck it I'll try it.

There was a Weiner-Dude right next door so I took it 'round to the tables to pop a squat and eat. I sat down, the quater-pounder in front of me, I opened the carton and went to eat it but I caught myself instead hesitating. No, I thought to myself, maybe later. Closing the carton I reached in my jacket pocket for the last of my Black & Golds. My high from earlier that day scraping resin was ending fast, cotton-mouth or not so I lit the last of my stoggz and contemplated what to do that day.

I could walk down the street abit and visit Sky (the Stoner/bum that lived on top of the T.J. Max) see what was up, y'know shoot the shit but then I remembered Sky had since moved after the incident with Beanz and A-rab (four counts of assualt and delaying a police officer, 'nuff said) or I could go the opposite direction to Brion's, the local Natty-dread of the area and smoke to some Matisyahu so I called him on my cell.

Few minutes later and I'm halfway up South headin' to Brion's, Juice box and Jasper were already there. Jasper breaking in his new Vaporizer, shortly after arriving the following happened in no particular order:

• Mike Rays came over got fucked up on the Vap aptly named 'Lampy' and dropped off a few sacs.
• Brion fed all six of his dogs and his three Macaws the leftover shake.

• And we hot-boxed the dogloo (that was the fun part)

I checked my cell, 3:49, not even fuckin' close, Brions got his telecaster strapped, singing into his stereo with Jasper. I hated how short autumn days were, Jasper says something about his half ounce of two different batches all I hear is free weed and I soon follow. (I should point out that I offered both Mike Rays and Jasper the quater-pounder both refusing) Brion comes into ownership of it, claiming "He'll eat it tonight when the munch gets the best of him." Brions a bottomless pit, he'll eat it, I think.

4:00 and me and Jasper have trekked up South past Brion's to Liberty Park to visit our friend Quinn, Jasper and Juice Box are swapping ideas on FoB reggae album while I searched out our vagabond-friend. Quinn had since been living out of his house, long since kicked out for some white trash reason, his soiled mattress braced against one of the Park's picnic tables. Quinn is rolling his own Tobacco when we find him, I offer him to join our group as we anticipate a party that night but he refuses saying Mike Rays is due over any minute. Speak of the Devil and we see him drive by back towards Quinn as we walk back. Brion sticking his head out the passenger's side window screams my name as they pass by.

4:26 and we're outside Tower Records behinds Brion's house, waiting for our friend Tyson to take his five minute break we notice one of the other employees on lunch stop to eat his burger, a quater-pounder....but what does he do? Does he stop to eat it, no he hesitates, looks at it and decides against it, I give up on Tyson coming out fifteen minutes later and me, Juice Box, and Jasper leave Tower for more 'laxed surrondings. (Unaware to me the Quater-pounder having changed hands from me to Brion to Quinn back to Mike Rays and to one of the employees of Tower whom he had given a sac to)

4:58 We're in the abandoned Dance Studio next door to Tower trying out Jasper's vaporizer for a second time. It's a different sort of high, more hand-waving involved, more random noises and spurts of laughter. Juice decides he needs to go find a job and leaves me with Jasper, Jasp mentions something about Joyce and Dostoyevsky and I trail off.

An hour and a half later and were in Jasper's Connect's garage shootin' the shit with Miss Lizz about the Sex pistols while we trip on the Simpsons and pass a joint. Dan, her son pulls up in the driveway back from Tower, muttering something about being hungry I notice a quater-pounder burger carton under his arm. It changes hands again I think. An inanimate object has had a more eventful night so far than we had.

Night already long since blanketing our evening and Jasper claims to have left his zong at Hogzilla's down past the Mcdonalds and Weiner-dude. We meet up with Hogzilla's dad there, at the homesetead and strike up a conversation about his son and his sense of retardation. Hog's dad always a good sport as we plug the vaporizer in again to test it out. He offers us old McDonalds Hogzilla had brought home the other night but we quickly decline (Not to hint that the quater-pounder had made it to Hogzilla's home, far from it [at the moment it was on a dresser as Dan banged the shit of of his girlfriend's ass] just that fast food is always in abundance and never wanted)

7:40 Twenty minutes till Hogzilla gets off work and Jasper mentions something about a Valley Christian party at a huge house up on Signal Hill. Private school kids throw the best parties ('cause they have the most money) we decide that will be tonight's climax to an already eventful Autumn Saturday. Hog's dad goes into the other room to yell at his disgusting wife and we take that as our sign to leave.

8:03 and we're already in a car headed for said party now this is where my memory fogs but my lasting images of the night are of:

• Hogzilla eating out some fat chick (both too drunk to care how ugly the other one is)
• Jasper at a table in the middle of a poker game, tha pot containing a vaporizer, several bills, and a very familiar quater-pounder.
• Me diving into a mosh pit and taking on three guys that'd normally kick my ass (Jasper says two of them were already drunk off their asses when I finished what fermented barley had started.
• Falling asleep to Club Dread as Jasper exclaims at the top of his lungs , "Show me your tits!"

The next day I wake up with a hot Korean girl under one arm and some Mexican bitch under the other. Hogzilla is asleep on top of some fallen couch cushions, and Jasper sitting in the kitchen with his Vaporizer and several Wake-and-bakers. My head feels split open and my stomach: empty, I hadn't eaten anything all night surprisingly. I drag myself over to the fridge, pull back the door and beholdened unto me, resting on the last unbroken metal rack: the quater-pounder. Its carton scuffed and warped but undeniably the same one I had decided against the day before. I feel a sense of triumph over come me as I sit at the table with my prize, I flip the carton open, take one look at the unspoiled slab of meat and bread before me and feel complete.

Epilogue- That burger would cost me as I had to get my stomach pumped later that day. Jasper long since sold the vaporizer, Hogzilla quit his job and Juice, Quinn, Brion, and Tyson indifferent if not unaffected. Turns out spoiled meat, ruptured ulcers and binge-drinking and smoking don't mix.