Muslim Boarding House Shitheads

I was escorted to the train headed East, into France, by the Police. I fell into a coma like sleep as the rickety rack of the rails clicked under me. I peel my eyelids open with all the effort I could muster in response to some one or some thing poking on my arm. In front of me, two men that resemble Laurel and Hardy in dress and stature , a fat one and a skinny one, peer over the two seats in front of me. They are sporting dark grey tweed suits with plaid vests and bee-bop hats as if they walked out of Charlie Chaplin's time machine. Maybe they jumped off of a silver screen somewhere or perhaps got frozen in an old ice truck. Anyhow, the fat one says, "Hey you, this is the last stop. You need to get off here." "Where am I?" "Marseilles, France." "Where are you headed?" "I have no idea." (always an appropriate response for adventure).

I gather my gear and groggily follow the two fellows off the train onto the platform. They give me one last glance back and say, "You got a place to stay?" "No." "We're heading to a boarding house about 12 blocks from here. It's only 5 bucks." I agree to follow the comical pair. We trek through the streets of  Marseilles looking like a space traveler guided by two chimney sweepers.

As we arrive at the tall skinny housing compound, I read the facade of the building, "Welcome fellow Muslim brothers." Underneath that it says, "No alcohol, No smoking, and No profanity." I hastily grab the fat one. I realize by now the skinny one doesn't speak at all (in perfect Penn and Teller fashion). "Hey man, this is a Muslim boarding house, I'm a smoker, I'm an alcoholic, and I'm an AMERICAN! Dude this is not cool. I'm gonna stay some place else." Always follow your gut instinct, but I faltered when he reassured me that he'd been here before and they were cool. So I reluctantly booked my room. We were all sober at this point... so everything was seemingly cool. The receptionist, a 40-something half black/half middle Eastern man. "He" was one of those. A real GRINGO, WHITEY hater. God forbid I start talking Devilisms to him. He probably would have shot me with his Chinese made rifle.

So we get to the top floor of the 5 story compound and see our rooms at the end of the long hallway. As we trudge our gear up the steps, I see serious students reading the Koran out loud. All giving me an eyeball nod as we push upward. We get to he top of the stairs and immediately unload all of our shit. All three of us are in a "hurry up and get the fuck out" kind of frenzy. We scurry down the 5 flights of steps. Time was wasting and we needed the next taste of alcoholic nectar from the Devils. The fat guy stops at the first corner store and recommends a Polish "Fortified" wine beverage. They each buy one for themselves and I follow suit. Wow this shit was rancid but... but... BAM! That first swig already started to give me a buzz... so I could tolerate the dangerous concoction. We wandered the streets of Marseilles, paper bagging our booze. We told stories from polarized upbringings as we made our way to the Harbor. We sat there a bit watching the generic looking tourists stroll the pier. We kept a keen gaze on a giant clock off to our left, as we sipped, chugged, toasted and grimaced the little drinking time we had away.

At quarter til curfew, we started the now completely disoriented march back to base. The booze was hitting heavy after such a rapid consumption on an empty stomach. There was also something else brewing in the bowels of my stomach. As of writing this years later... I can still remember the sound that my stomach made as we were starting to walk at a light, almost jog, speed in order to slide under the curfew's finish line. I alerted my companions, "Whoa... my stomach just flipped in a very bad way. We need to hurry. I need to find a bathroom AND FAST!" The fat guy replies, "We're almost there." I reply, "Umm it's not gonna wait!" So those that know me, should know I'm, fairly modest about peeing in public so this was a real predicament. I glanced the current surroundings for a place to unleash the beast growling in my stomach. NO FUCKING ALLEYS, NO BATHROOMS, just cars, JUST A STREET LINED WITH PARKED FUCKING CARS ! So, I pick the tallest and closest ones I can get to in time. As I'm running toward the impact zone, I'm unbuckling my belt and unzipping my trousers. This was gonna being a moving assault on my stationary target. I make my squat  right there in the street, right at prime time. The streets are lined with folks bustling to and fro. Then it happens. We're not talking diarrhea or a shart (fart that turns out to be a shit). This was a full on ASS EXPLOSION right in the road. There was this loud splash as shit literally exploded out of my ass onto the pavement. Collateral damage sprayed onto the vehicle's white paint jobs with force. People gagged, covering their mouths and hunching over. It was a moment that lives vividly in my mind's eye. After the satisfaction of giving an evil birth passes. I have realization that I have no toilet paper and not even a dirty newspaper in my sight overcomes me. So I just pull up my pants with the roll of my eyes and start hustling toward the boarding house. I can see the skinny one darting into the front door at about the same time I see the fat one leaning against the wall. One hand gripped his stomach and one pressed firmly over his head against the wall. My thoughts as I run to his aid, "OH SHIT!"

I'm trying to buckle my pants, still full of shit spray, as I realize he can barely stand up and is screaming racist profanities at the receptionist. He can hardly stand up and I have no idea what the fuck he's saying at this point. The reception Muslim runs out onto the sidewalk calling me white Devil, disrespectful American put downs. I begin to assist my fatty fatty fat fat friend up the twisting multilevel marble stair case. I'm rushing him to get to our rooms. Obviously, we're late, we're drunk and literally smell like shit. The whole time I'm thinking, "Man I gotta get this dude to the bathroom on the top floor before he has the same ASS EXPLOSION that I just had." It was about this time... up the first flight of "half story" steps... that I realize my friend has already had his demon baby experience. Probably when we hit that first step. I didn't hear it for the fucking asshole screaming in my ear, pointing at the sky and beating me with his "bible". As we make our way up the longest stairway of my life so far, diarrhea and shit trickle out of his pant legs. His weight bearing down on me. All the while, he's screaming "FUCK YOU" to the proprietor. About half way up the building, I start screaming "FUCK YOU" at my FAT FRIEND, all while still helping the fat fuck. I think this is where the other dude, who possibly worked or WORSHIPED there, started poking a fucking mop in my face. He was telling me I'd better clean it up or else(using the old slash my throat with his thumb bullshit). Some kind of Hollywood movie scene chaos bullshit. I finally managed to get this dude to the room. As I was about to finally drop him on his bed, the receptionist guy yells(in perfect English), "NO, NO, not in those pants!" So I unbuckle his pants, I tie the ankles up so the shit will stop coming out of the bottoms and handed it over to the proprietor asshole. He pinches his nose and waves the pants away back in my direction. At this point, I am completely covered in diarrhea  vomit, piss and shit. Oh yeah he vomited on my head somewhere up those steps too. However, POO POO is so much grosser that it's hardly worth mentioning. I rapidly check the pockets for anything. Give the Muslim one last Devil glance and I toss the shit sausages in form of a FAT MAN's flying pants out of the 5th story window. We all bond for that one moment of brotherhood as the pants twirl through the air spewing wet juicy turds on the bustling foot traffic below before it's one final splat. At which moment, the pedestrians look to the heavens to solve the where-a-bouts and what-a-bouts... of the alien like occurrence .. of the shit sausages... from outer space. The same moment forces us all to "turtle in our heads" from the window. The bitching started again.

I ended up hosing him down with a garden hose in the top floor bathtub. I then mopped all five stories of the Hostel. I took a shower. I put on fresh clothes and started to get the fuck out of there at about midnight... when all of a sudden... the reception dude says "You can't leave the building at this time." I gave him my best EVIL EYE and growled firmly. He hit the buzzer and I've never seen any of them since. AMEN!