Last weekend I took a trip to the great state of Oklahoma to visit some friends of mine. It had been an especially trying work week and I was desperately looking forward to a weekend void of any responsibility. I packed up my SUV, dropped my pug off at grandma’s and began the five hour journey to see my favorite couple, Clit & Kickapoo.

I should have known when my navigation system did not even recognize their address that I was going to be in for a real treat. Once I crossed the Texas border into Oklahoma all bets were off and I found myself trapped in hillbilly hell. It is often said that Texans are the not brightest light on the tree but there should be a special place in Wikipedia reserved for the wing nuts I encountered that particular weekend.

Somewhere between trailer park towns and the numerous Native American tribal grounds I decided that I was going to brave the locals and stop at the next gas station to relieve myself. I happened to see a sign for Loves, so I threw on the turn signal and made my way over to the ever popular hangout for truck drivers. I walked inside and immediately rushed over to the bathroom in an effort to avoid any sexual harassment from some random toothless wonder. When I entered the ladies restroom another woman was coming out of one of the stalls at the same time. She was in her late seventies or maybe even early eighties. She was wearing a notably large t-shirt with a wolf scene on the front of it. She had a Marlboro red hanging out of her mouth and at first glance it looked like her hair had not seen a brush in quite some time. She grunted at me “Good Morning” as she passed me on the way to the sink. Mind you it was almost 5:00 in the evening. The entire trip was pretty much a clown show from that point on.

I finally arrived at Clit and Kickapoo’s somewhere around seven. I should have been there much earlier however my GPS has an obvious sense of humor. My route that day was peppered in towns with a population of less than four and two lane highways that one could easily play chicken on. I was elated to finally be out of my car. I began drinking almost immediately. After a few cocktails and catching up on what everyone had been up to we decided to head out to a local bar.

I cannot even begin to describe the band that was playing at the bar. The lead singer looked like he had just come from a Billy Ray Cyrus look alike contest and both guitarists were sporting a mullet. In the short time that we were there they busted out a cowbell, a tambourine, a saxophone, and maracas. When the waitress finally approached our table I ordered my usual vodka water with three lemons. Kickapoo decided that sounded like something she could get into and ordered the same. Minutes later the waitress came back with two vodka waters with three slices of limes perched on the rim of each glass. She winked at us and proclaimed that she had even gone to the trouble of getting us some extra lemons before she turned and walked away. I looked down at my drink and scratched my head. Surely she understood the difference between a lemon and a lime? I flagged down our fruit expert and politely mentioned that I would go ahead and drink what was in front of me but on the next round I would like lemon instead of lime. She looked embarrassed or I could have been misreading confusion on her face. She apologized and told us that on the next round she would bring us a whole shot glass full of lemons. Way to go retard, offer to bring us the smallest container you have in the bar FULL of lemons. What an amazing gesture that was. We only stayed for about an hour before I begged the two of them to get me the hell out of there.

Later that evening after the three of us sat on the back porch drinking our troubles away I excused myself and drug my tired ass to bed. Somewhere around 2:00 am, I was awoken by the sound of a UFC fight in the next room. Clit and Kickapoo had obviously drank one too many and were now screaming at each other just outside of my bedroom. I could not make out what they were fighting about or if any blood had been shed but I decided to check it out anyway. A few minutes later I walked into the living room to find Kickapoo in her panties and Clit peeing in the backyard. I turned around and went back to bed.

The next day after having lunch and running around town we headed back to the house to grill out and watch The Hangover. I was delighted to stay in for the evening given my experience at the bar the night before. On the way home from the grocery store Clit asked me if I wanted to see the house owned by the woman that invented the stair master. Who could say no to that? We detoured past the road that led to their house and made our way over to stair master heaven. We pulled up to a mini mansion that had one of the most scenic lots I have ever laid my eyes on. This woman knew what she was doing. She had tons of land, a duck pond, countless trees, and had clearly spent more than I make in a year on her monthly landscaping bill. Kickapoo was driving down a side street to get a better view of the house when I noticed a rather large pile of rocks right outside of the gate. I looked back at Clit and dared him to jump the fence and steal one of the large rocks. I have no idea why I did this, however it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. Clit was game for a little B and E so we both exited the vehicle and stopped just outside of the gate.

A car full of meth addicts slowly drove past us as we were standing there. At this point, Clit began to get a little nervous and was telling me to “be quiet” and “just be cool for a minute”. It was almost as if we were in a lost scene from Stand By Me and I had just asked him if he wanted to see a dead body. Neither of us made a sound. Clit attempted to back out at the last minute. When I asked him if he had a vagina he decided it was now or never. He hopped then fence and ran over to the pile of rocks. He grabbed the first one he laid his hands on and ran like a girl back to the car. We both jumped in as Kickapoo sped away. The three of us laughed the entire ride back to their house as we marveled at our trophy.

We spent the rest of the holiday weekend sitting on the back porch drinking and laughing like we were five again. Despite their address, I really do love Clit and Kickapoo. They can always be counted upon for a good time. Whether we are making jokes at each others expense or robbing neighbors of their landscaping materials, there is never a dull moment. After all we had been through that weekend we were damn near family by the time I got back in my car to begin the ridiculous drive home.