Interview with “truck bro” goes horribly wrong.
This week in “Strange Strangers found on the Vegas Strip,” I found a college student who seemed to be a little to into polishing his truck. The following are his gushings about said truck, so strap in because you’re in for quite a ride.
“Yo wassup my bromies, I’m Chad Michael Miller! That’s a portmanteau of bro and homies (no homo) for you uncultured swine. The Head Propagandist or whatever she is told me to talk to one of her reporters about my sick new ride. Yeah, so last week I bought the new Ford Raptor and dicked … I mean decked it out with all the coolest mods.
I jacked off … I mean up. I jacked up the suspension and shocks, so it’s like eight feet tall now. I got some wood … rims. My girlfriend says they’re super sexy, but she didn’t peg me as a wood kind of guy.
The bromies wanted me to add truck nuts, not that I’m compensating for anything. My girlfriend says I have the biggest dick she’s ever seen!
I just installed the classic cattle guard, tinted windows and, of course, the rebel flag. I thought the flag would look really cool, but it just lays there flaccid on its shaft because there’s no wind in this town.
The bromies made me get undercarriage lights and LED headlights. We all thought they would look bangin’, but they were so hard to turn on: just like your girlfriend! Oh! Got ‘em.
The new sound system I slid in the bed has the best sound. Now when me and the bromies hit up the parties we can play our own music over whatever shitty noise the ass clowns inside are playing. The bass is so good. (How good is it?) The bass is so good; it penetrates your fucking bones, man.
I modified my exhaust system too. I get a great guttural growl that blows all the bromies … away. I get so many looks when I’m driving around town because everyone loves the noise and the black smoke so much.”
Very graciously, Chad took me for a test drive. We made it one block before he decided he wanted to show off and street race some stranger next to us. The next thing I knew, we were 10 blocks down the road with a trail of black smoke behind us and three police sirens blaring.
Obviously, we were pulled over.
As the police officer was checking Chad’s insurance and license Chad said, “I hope she doesn’t find my cocaine.” Again, obviously, the police officer calls back up to search Chad’s truck. As we were waiting for the other police officers to come, Chad whipped out a one-hundred-dollar bill and said to the officer, “Why don’t you forget about this and go buy yourself something nice.”
I’m writing this from my jail cell and updates will continue as they happen. Hopefully, the Head Propagandist can bail me out of this mess she put me in.
