meatbag
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- Nov 29, 2008
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My eyes were watering from the rancid odour, my ears felt like they were bleeding. I cringed at every word spoken form the grungy yellow and black toothed, oily skin and greasy smiling infamous Dirty Wayne. A beast of a man so foul and full of tales only the lowest of the low, bottom of the bottom feeders could bare and relate to.
Wayne would make the age old traditional hardcore biker look like a beginner, a wanna be, compared to his years of living out on the land wheeling dealing, whoring and hauling junk-obviously without access to a shower or schooling. Dirty and hard to take as he was I always had to listen to his tales as if transfixed, frozen in place in disbelief that such a person or things could happen. Sleepless nights always followed.
Despicable and crazy as it sounds, Dirty Wayne always fascinated me and I kinda liked him, in very short bursts and from a short distance away as to just listen and not taste the aroma of the stories.
I've always been both appalled and impressed with this guy. When he would show up usually my first instinct is to run and hide, but then I find myself moving into earshot, then actually participating, from a breathable distance. He has a very colourful vocabulary which he uses without a thought, he talks quite softly but without reservations, morals or rules. Telling sex stories about his girlfriends and whores with his wife present was commonplace.
All listeners were privy to a short man with a greasy smile, yellow and blackish looking teeth surrounded by an unwashed scruffy face, as if he'd been sleeping in a tent for a month, topped off with slick wire-like thinning hair and a old ball cap almost growing to his head. He did still have all his teeth though, and thats, well...something.
Wayne can tell the crustiest, dirty, low down filthy stories I've ever heard...and I believe their all true. I started calling him Dirty Wayne years ago, after my initiation to his first offensive story.
I have a friend, who I'll refer to as "Flanders" for this story, Flanders is a man, a very religious and nice guy,well, he befriended Dirty Wayne(I always struggled at the connection) even though in short bursts it was a lot of fun listening to Dirty Wayne ramble on, in his low grumbly voice, an absolutely disgusting grungy disgusting story of the antics of himself, an old girlfriend, animal, whore, party or all of those things altogether, plus maybe a friend or family member(all inbred no less), then chuckle out loud, not at all bothered by who's listening, about all his crusty reminiscing with a deep, low "heh, heh, heh". Magnificent!
Anyways, Dirty Wayne rode a old Honda GoldWing(and probably still does) in the winter and he's told us stories. Now, these are stories! Blizzarding snowstorms, horrendous rainstorms, Travels with carney's, strippers, bikers and everything in between. I pictured in my mind the rainwater just "moving" the dirt around on him, not washing it away, just depositing it in another location on his body. The water drops beading off the thick crude oil covering his leathery skin.
His biking stories were not like most stories people talk about. Normal bikers talk about the weather, how the bike is working, maybe the food, destination, bevy's and company involved. Wayne's travelling stories involved long distances with teeth gritted in bad circumstances, someone getting beat up or dying, drugs and sex. Sometimes breakdowns, vengeance, and whore's dominated, other times he would just go for a ride and as sure as his soap's never been touched, he would break down or have some dramatic funny story about getting home and what he stole out of someones yard to fix the problem. The odd time he would tell about riding in a snowstorm, sliding into a ditch, picking up the "scratched" bike, then continuing again on his merry way making more Wayne history.
I have been witness to many, many tales, most I didn't even want to hear (but couldn't tear myself away from) that'll make a grown man cringe.
I met the town fool once, riding his old bicycle with a basket on the front, flood-pants and goofy haircut but he was nothing compared to how interesting Wayne has been.
I don't want to hang around with him, be closer than about 6' or eat a meal cooked by him or for that matter shake his sausage finger hand, but I'm glad to know good ole Dirty Wayne.
Wayne would make the age old traditional hardcore biker look like a beginner, a wanna be, compared to his years of living out on the land wheeling dealing, whoring and hauling junk-obviously without access to a shower or schooling. Dirty and hard to take as he was I always had to listen to his tales as if transfixed, frozen in place in disbelief that such a person or things could happen. Sleepless nights always followed.
Despicable and crazy as it sounds, Dirty Wayne always fascinated me and I kinda liked him, in very short bursts and from a short distance away as to just listen and not taste the aroma of the stories.
I've always been both appalled and impressed with this guy. When he would show up usually my first instinct is to run and hide, but then I find myself moving into earshot, then actually participating, from a breathable distance. He has a very colourful vocabulary which he uses without a thought, he talks quite softly but without reservations, morals or rules. Telling sex stories about his girlfriends and whores with his wife present was commonplace.
All listeners were privy to a short man with a greasy smile, yellow and blackish looking teeth surrounded by an unwashed scruffy face, as if he'd been sleeping in a tent for a month, topped off with slick wire-like thinning hair and a old ball cap almost growing to his head. He did still have all his teeth though, and thats, well...something.
Wayne can tell the crustiest, dirty, low down filthy stories I've ever heard...and I believe their all true. I started calling him Dirty Wayne years ago, after my initiation to his first offensive story.
I have a friend, who I'll refer to as "Flanders" for this story, Flanders is a man, a very religious and nice guy,well, he befriended Dirty Wayne(I always struggled at the connection) even though in short bursts it was a lot of fun listening to Dirty Wayne ramble on, in his low grumbly voice, an absolutely disgusting grungy disgusting story of the antics of himself, an old girlfriend, animal, whore, party or all of those things altogether, plus maybe a friend or family member(all inbred no less), then chuckle out loud, not at all bothered by who's listening, about all his crusty reminiscing with a deep, low "heh, heh, heh". Magnificent!
Anyways, Dirty Wayne rode a old Honda GoldWing(and probably still does) in the winter and he's told us stories. Now, these are stories! Blizzarding snowstorms, horrendous rainstorms, Travels with carney's, strippers, bikers and everything in between. I pictured in my mind the rainwater just "moving" the dirt around on him, not washing it away, just depositing it in another location on his body. The water drops beading off the thick crude oil covering his leathery skin.
His biking stories were not like most stories people talk about. Normal bikers talk about the weather, how the bike is working, maybe the food, destination, bevy's and company involved. Wayne's travelling stories involved long distances with teeth gritted in bad circumstances, someone getting beat up or dying, drugs and sex. Sometimes breakdowns, vengeance, and whore's dominated, other times he would just go for a ride and as sure as his soap's never been touched, he would break down or have some dramatic funny story about getting home and what he stole out of someones yard to fix the problem. The odd time he would tell about riding in a snowstorm, sliding into a ditch, picking up the "scratched" bike, then continuing again on his merry way making more Wayne history.
I have been witness to many, many tales, most I didn't even want to hear (but couldn't tear myself away from) that'll make a grown man cringe.
I met the town fool once, riding his old bicycle with a basket on the front, flood-pants and goofy haircut but he was nothing compared to how interesting Wayne has been.
I don't want to hang around with him, be closer than about 6' or eat a meal cooked by him or for that matter shake his sausage finger hand, but I'm glad to know good ole Dirty Wayne.
Just my thread is kinda a biography too
A Dirty guy. Lol.
