Sidney Tyler Lofton

For Legal Reasons this is Fiction 

Introduction

Welcome to For Legal Reasons this is Fiction, but first a word from my lawyer.

Dear Reader,

You currently stand at the precipice of embarking upon an extraordinary journey of debauchery, depravity, and sin.  As a more talented writer than I once said, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”  

Okay.  Now that we have the obligatory warning out of the way, it is my pleasure to introduce to you a very talented writer, photographer, poet, and all-around interesting man named Sidney Tyler Lofton.  I happened to have the pleasure of making Tyler’s acquaintance at a notably hedonistic pool party hosted by one of his photography models at some point in time around the Year of Our Lord 2013.  I think.  It’s been awhile.  Whatever.  The important point is that this particular party lacked no shortage of booze, drugs, sex, firearms, and tiddies.  Lots of tiddies.  Seriously.  LOTS of tiddies.  In short, it was a damned fine party.

Anyway, I digress.  As it just so happens, I am a lawyer by trade.  And, full disclosure, I have had the pleasure of representing Tyler in that capacity defending against a variety of criminal charges brought against him by the collective buzzkill legally known as the State of Tennessee.  Thus, it only seems fitting that Tyler asked me to introduce you to this series, For Legal Reasons, This is Fiction.  When he asked me to do so, Tyler also sent me a draft of his first piece in the series and I strongly advised him of the potential legal ramifications associated with publishing his name to this story (and to future, similar stories as well).  As is usually the case with most clients, my legal advice appears to have been completely ignored, so here we are.  Now, with that said:  Buckle up, buttercup.  As I can attest from personal experience, you—dear reader—are in for one HELL of a ride…

Signed,

James B. McVeigh, Esq.

PS: every charge upon which I have represented Tyler has been dismissed. You’re welcome, my friend.

Part 1 -Dave’s Jewels or Skiing the Appalachians 

You ever wake up in your own room and not know where you are. Legit confused about time and space? Cause last thing I remember was snorting that eight ball of tan coke that tasted like diesel fuel off some stripper’s ass cheeks. Well maybe we should start at the beginning. 

Me and Dave decided to make the 2 hour round trip for “supplies” for that evening. 32oz tumblers full of whiskey and soda 4 blunts rolled and off we go. If you’ve never driven through Nashville you might think that 64 ounces of whiskey and soda plus 4 blunts is a bit much for a 2 hour drive. You’d be wrong. Now I had an old 1986 Mazda 626. This car was a fucking death trap.  A fucking death trap that handled like a race car. 22, no insurance, license suspended, a giant addiction and a race car that had aluminum foil held on with a rubber band as the cap.for the brake fluid reservoir. 

Off we go balls out, the only way. We make the trip to the plug. Buy our coke and jump back in the 626. Dave bust out a CD case and gets to work. The next thing I know Dave says “here your turn, I got the wheel”. I take the dollar and grab the case. What lies before me is the longest tannest line of cocaine I’d ever seen. Just an Appalachian mountain range of cocaine. But as we all know Mama Sid didn’t raise no bitch.  So I get to hiking the Appalachian trail so to speak. As I finish my hike I tell Dave to fire up one of our 2 remaining blunts as we exit the interstate and head for the crib.  

We take that exit at a good 75 -80 mph car almost up on 2 wheels brake fluid just spraying all under the hood. As we come off the exit we fly past a hidden county cop. He blue lights us and I say fuck it. Pedal to the floor and we make the next right onto what is one of the curviest roads in the county. 

Pig is hot on our assess as I push that 626 to its extremes. I’m just concentrating on the road and what’s left of the blunt between my lips. I look  over at Dave and he’s just got the most peaceful look on his face as we are damn near jumping the curves at this point. Like he knows this is it and he’s accepted his fate. In the rear view the blue lights are bouncing off the trees but he’s not on us. He knows the people he’s chasing are insane and he wants no part of this dance. I hammer down and disappear into the lost night. Zipping down back roads running with no lights on. And then as quick as he was there, the pig is gone. Given up. 

We pull over and Dave says “line?”

Well fuck yeah Dave let’s do this. 

Dave breaks it out and we do it up. 

Dave again looks over and says two words. Medieval Times.

Now let me explain medieval times to you. It’s a strip club built inside an old Texaco station out on hwy 31 in the boonies. It was exactly as you are picturing it. Just darker.

Now me and Dave both knew a friend of ours had just started dancing there and the last thing she would want is our coked out asses showing up. So that’s exactly what we did. Cause you know strippers and coke are like pb & j they just belong together. 

And as our luck would have it. Who is on stage as we enter. That’s right our buddy. And her eyes locked with ours and the oh fuck look she had in her face said it all. We took our seats

 Ordered drinks and made a bathroom run. Once we returned from our invigorating hike in the mens toilet, our friend was off stage and waiting on us. After her initial displeasure at our arrival she quickly warms up to the idea of us being there once we explain the outdoor activities we are participating in. She joins us at the table and we commence to partying like our 22 year old lives depended on it. Now the neat thing about having a stripper as a close personal friend and a pocket full of cocaine is that all the other strippers love you too. 

Now we haven’t really been paying attention to the stage as we’ve been cutting up with our new friends. When all of a sudden Dave looks up and he has the most WTF look I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. So naturally I have to know what is causing my buddy such distress and I look towards the stage. On stage is a lady that’s every bit of 70 years old. Topless one hand on the pole the other on her hips which she’s trying to move back and forth. This is the only move she did for the two songs she was on stage for. As she finishes up and is helped off the stage, she starts making the private dance rounds. Dave is still in shock as he’s a pure young soul. Me? I’ve seen some shit so a geriatric stripper doesn’t even ping my radar anymore and I’ve completely forgotten she existed. That is until she approaches Dave and asks him if he’d like a dance. Dave doesn’t miss a beat and says” I’d love one but I don’t want to be responsible for you breaking a hip.” 

I haven’t laughed that long and loud in years. I’m crying Dave looks at me and then is swiftly kicked in the nuts. This causes me and our new gaggle of strippers to fall into convulsions of laughter as Dave lays on the floor holding onto his boys. By the time Dave comes around its last call. So we order a round of shots for whatever deviants are left in the bar. And our stripper buddy says. Let’s take this party back to my place. So they grab a couple bottles of tequila and we head for the door. We follow them to the parking lot, get in the 626 do two more lines and we follow the stripper mobile through the dark back roads of Giles county Tennessee until we arrive at this old trailer. We follow the now sweatpants wearing strippers inside

Now if you’ve never partied with strippers right after they got off work. Well son you’ve never lived.

It gets a bit blurry at this point. I remember a lot more cocaine. Titties everywhere. One of the strippers boyfriend is giving everyone shotguns off the blunt. A stripper  is pouring tequila down her titties for Dave to slurp up. The other bottle of tequila is having blunt smoke blown into it and is being passed around. Suck out the smoke followed by a shot. It’s a good system until it reaches Dave who at this point has been dislodged from his titty tequila waterfall and isn’t happy about it. So he grabs the blunt and the bottle. Blows the thickest shotgun I’ve seen into this half full Cuervo bottle. Looked like milk sitting on top of the tequila. I think to myself that nothing good will come of this and go back to snorting coke off stripper body parts. When behind me I hear a sound like a cough mixed with a gag followed by a choke. It was then the room went quiet as Dave who’s seated between two strippers removed all that smoke and turned the bottle up. Glug Glug, then the noise, followed by Dave trying to get up to run to the bathroom while projectile vomiting cocaine, tequila, stripper titty sweat and bar olives all over himself and the unfortunate people who were sitting across from him. He left a trail down the walls, the floor and it was a good 15 feet to the bathroom. Now Im not far behind Dave in levels of fucked up. But bar olive cocaine vomit will definitely sober you up a little. Poor ol Dave had to clean all that up before we left for the evening. After that I remember one thing before we return to the beginning of the story and that’s pulling over to puke on the way home. 

Part 2 – Bunny, sic ball ball!

Mid June in Columbia Tennessee, Me and Dave were sitting around bored out of mind. At this point it had been a few years since we had any LSD. And we were talking about it. Laughing about old trips. There is this funny thing about LSD, it knows. We walked outside to have a smoke and weren’t out there for 10 minutes, when up pulls a dude we both knew but hadn’t seen in a while. He looks at us and goes yall want some acid? I looked at Dave and we both said yes at the same time. Turns out dude had 10 hits so we took 5 a piece.

Dave and I knew we had about 45 minutes until it kicked in. So we decided to head to the gas station for supplies, smokes, juice, snacks, gum etc. Gas station was about 15 minutes away so we had to go now. We load up and make the trip. Now the other thing about acid is it can come on way quicker than 45 min. As we are rolling into the gas station we are feeling the little spine tingles. We park, get out and go in the store. We spend probably 10 minutes giggling and gathering supplies. We make our way to the register and as we approach, arms full of supplies there is standing in front of us one of the largest gentlemen I’ve ever seen and he had on a gray shirt, and in black letters on the back it said ”God lives in me”.. I involuntarily snickered as I read it and I looked at Dave. At this point Dave gives up and convulses in laughter while letting go of everything in his arms and runs out of the store. Leaving me to gather his shit and somehow pay for it and make it out of the store while choking. 

We make it back to the house and post up rolling joints while we await the peak. We are laughing and joking and having a good time. Then it’s decided we should take a walk. This neighborhood had allies that ran behind every house. And we decided to walk them that night.

We’ve been at it about 30 minutes and we are coming up behind our house. We are smoking and cutting up when the rottweiler in the yard next to us barks. Now this was a giant of a dog, attached to a chain and that chain is attached to a metal pole thats in a huge chink of concrete. All this dog did was run and drag this rock behind him all day. Dave tosses a rock at the dog and tells him to shut up. What happened next was terrifying and amazing. This rottie started charging at us and jumped the fence. The chain and rock come over the fence with him.. Now Dave ran track in high school and I was and am a fat fuck. When I tell you I smoked Dave like he was standing still. I was 2 blocks away before Dave could yell RUN! I guess Dave ran in a different direction from me because he didn’t make it home till about 30 minutes after I did. He’s completely out of breath and just drenched in sweat. He tells me that dog chased him for 15 min and if it hadn’t been for that concrete chunk getting stuck between two trees he would have got him. We settled in and found some spray paint and decided the upstairs needed repainting. Dave’s girlfriend got home just in time to see my finish spray painting I’M TRIPPING MY FUCKING NUTS OFF!!!!! In bright red 2 foot letters on her wall. And that’s a story for another time..