So I'm drunk off my ass and thinking about the good old days...  When the illustrious Cherry Vanilla and myself took a road trip through Wyoming to Yellowstone National Park we came across a couple of rednecks in the Bighorn Mountains...  These two characters looked so stupid and ignorant that Cherry and myself cracked up laughing for hours then spent the rest of our trip planning a story about them....   The following is the fruits of our labors, the story is unfinished, but I'm trying to get Cherry to join me on another trip so the epic can be completed!!! Enjoy!!!!!   By the way....   I still get a kick out of Cherry!!!





Spring had finally returned to Greybull Wyoming after a long cold winter. The streams ran with a crystal clear water from the melting snows. Many of the animals, dormant for months now, found their way to the fields to resume their playful games and listen to the love songs of the returning birds. Just weeks earlier the whole area was a desolate place devoid of any sound or color other than the dull monotones of winter. Now gentle breezes whispered their way through waves of green grass freckled by purple, blue, and yellow wildflowers. Even the air had seemed to come alive with rich floral scents unsurpassed by any perfume made by man. Standing sentinel over it all was the Bighorn Mountains, it’s jagged peaks crowned by snows of the purest white, trees clinging to its many faces seemed to deify it’s very presence. To the ancients, spring was revered as a time of rebirth, and nowhere else in the world was this more evident than here.
Not all was well in Greybull Wyoming though. Down at the Greybull tire and muffler Billy Stergiss was hurriedly closing down shop. It was still early morning, hours before the scheduled closing time, but Billy couldn’t stay any longer. It seems that Billy had taken advantage of a man over a tire transaction and fearing retaliation decided it was best to leave. The man had come to Billy requesting help, for he had blown a tire and had to limp his car into town on a dilapidated spare. Billy saw an opportunity to make a few bucks while his boss was out of town. He told the man that he needed to replace all of his tires or he was sure to have further problems. Billy then replaced all of the man’s tires with used ones destined for the Greybull landfill, then charged the man for new tires. After the man left, Billy realized that the man wasn’t going to make it far with his replacement tires, so Billy grabbed the $220.00 he had made in the transaction and left.
Billy weaved his way in and out of the stacks of used tires, much in the fashion of those trained in guerrilla warfare tactics. Billy paused at the last stack of tires to survey the area for anyone who may wish him harm, then made a dash for his 1984 Camaro. Billy fired up the Camaro’s engine and raced out of the back lot of the Greybull tire and muffler. Leaving town Billy sensed there was something different about today, something special. Billy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but whatever it was it called to him instinctually. Billy suddenly realized what it was that had called on him. It was time to take the truck out. Billy and his twin brother Chuck hadn’t taken the truck out for eight months now, and Billy had felt a growing void in him, now he knew exactly what that void was. Billy pulled his Camaro into the driveway of the derelict trailer house he shared with his brother Chuck. His heart racing with the anticipation of things to come Billy nearly forgot to do the secret knock which would ensure that Chuck wouldn’t discharge a firearm at him. Billy rapped out “shave and a haircut” which was followed by a faint voice from within calling out “Clear!!!”. Billy pushed his way through the tin door and entered a room lit only by shafts of light sneaking their way between bath towels hanging over the windows. He made his way across the room littered with empty beer cans and discarded microwaveable dinner trays. In the darkest corner of the room Chuck sat motionless and watched as Billy approached. “What you doing home early for Billy?” Chuck asked. Billy paused to accentuate the moment then said “Chuck, it’s time to take the truck out.”.
Neither Chuck nor Billy said anything more. They immediately sprung into action. Chuck stood up and removed the foam neck brace he was wearing as Billy went into the next room returning with a large box filled to the brim with all the necessary gear. First out of the box were matching white T-shirts promoting NASCAR. Billy removed his work shirt and Chuck his wife beater exposing their taught little bodies. The two men in ritualistic fashion put on the NASCAR shirts and went to the box once more pulling out two belt buckles, one engraved with the word Charles, the other William. Chuck, halfway through the installation of his belt buckle was stopped by Billy. “Hey Chuck, the one that says William is mine!!!” Chuck grunted apologetically and they swapped belt buckles. Next out of the box were matching aviator style sunglasses and mesh baseball caps, silk screened with an advertisement for Busch beer. Once the sunglasses and baseball caps were in place Chuck and Billy were prepared for the next phase. The two men stepped out the back door of their humble home and were momentarily blinded by the sunlight. Once their eyes adjusted to the brightness they could see the one thing that gave their lives meaning, their truck.
Chuck and Billy had acquired the truck five years earlier with money from a lump sum settlement they had received after their mother had died in state custody. It had been a trying time for the two men because after their mother had died they were unable to find a decent truck in the Greybull area, finally in desperation they traveled to Sheridan Wyoming. After several hours of perusing used car dealerships the men had almost given up. To make matters worse Billy had gotten lost in one of Sheridan’s neighborhoods and was desperately trying to find his way out. They took a corner and spotted a magnificent sight, parked in the front yard of one of the homes sat the truck, “For Sale by Owner“ written across the windshield in white paint. The two men shouted out the word “Awesome” in unison. They stopped their car and ran up to the truck, inspecting every nook and cranny of it’s sheet metal. The truck put out a powerful ambiance to the two men and they knew that this is what they had been waiting for. A grizzled old man wandered nonchalantly out of the home and asked “You two boys interested in the truck?”. Twenty minutes later without even so much as a test drive, Chuck and Billy were the proud owners of a black 1993 Chevrolet step side pickup.
All of that was in the past though, Chuck and Billy had a lot of work left to do before they could take the truck out again. They each took a corner of the tarp which covered the truck and pulled it back. It had been a rough eight months, the winds had blown dirt and snow under the tarp leaving the truck’s paint job mottled, a mouse seeking refuge from the unsympathetic Wyoming winter had brought in grass and pine needles to build a nest. Undaunted the two men knew what needed to be done. Chuck reached into the box and pulled out a large plastic tote containing a myriad of automotive cleaning supplies. Billy unwound a garden hose and handed it to Chuck. Chuck screwed the garden hose onto the Mr. Clean auto care system sprayer. Billy turned the hose spigot to the on position and gave the thumbs up signal to Chuck. Chuck aimed the Mr. Clean auto care system sprayer at the truck and pulled the trigger sending forth a spray of water coupled with the patented cleaning agents. The dirt and grime fell from the truck, when it was time, Chuck turned the Mr. Clean auto care system sprayer selector knob to rinse to finish the job. Chuck removed a chamois from the plastic tote to dry the trucks surface as Billy turned his attention to the trucks interior, first wiping down the dash and door jams with Armor all protectant, then thoroughly cleaning the glass. After the trucks interior had been cleaned and the exterior dried, the two men started the detail work. Chuck sprayed down the tires with No Touch Tire Care while Billy went about polishing the chrome drop bumper, grill guard and roll bar with Meguiar’s chrome polish.
The two men stepped back to admire their handiwork. The truck glistened in the late morning sun, every detail just right. “You ready?” Billy asked Chuck. Chuck nodded his head. Billy walked over to the box and pulled out the last two items. The first item was a small CD index which Billy handed to Chuck. The second item was a small flip top box the type usually reserved for fine jewelry. Billy opened the box and removed the key to the truck. Billy climbed into the drivers seat and Chuck the passenger seat. They paused a moment to reflect on the significance of what they were about to do. Billy took the truck’s key, inserted it into the ignition and turned the key. The truck’s engine roared to life, Billy goosed the throttle several times causing the truck’s body to twist. The two men erupted into a primal laughter as the truck’s twin glass packs cackled away. “Time for the tunes man!!!“ Billy yelled over the clamor. Chuck reached into the CD index and brought out a CD. Chuck and Billy watched as the CD was pulled into the truck’s stereo. The two men reverently spoke along with the opening lines of the song Number of the Beast by Iron Maiden. “Woe to you oh earth and sea for the devil sends the beast with wrath, let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number. It’s number is six hundred and sixty six“. Chuck and Billy both screamed along with the vocals of Bruce Dickenson as Billy threw the truck into gear and jammed his foot into the throttle. The truck launched itself sending up rooster tails of dirt and gravel.
At the end of the quarter mile drive that led to their home, Chuck and Billy came to the crossroad. If they went left they would drive into Greybull Wyoming. If they went right they would head towards the Bighorn Mountains. Neither man knew which direction they should go until Billy spotted a familiar car pulled over on the side of the road a ways down. Billy turned to Chuck, grinned and said “You gotta check this out man!!!”. Billy turned right onto the highway and headed towards the car. As they neared the car they spied a man, obviously furious, pacing around the car. Billy recognized the man as the tire customer he had taken advantage of only two hours earlier. Strips of rubber torn from the tire as it had exploded littered the road. Billy slowed to a crawl as he passed the man and at the last moment gave the man the finger and sped off. Chuck asked “What was that all about man?” Billy responded “Just thanking him for the gas money.”. Directly in front of them stood Steamboat rock, the gateway to the Bighorn Mountains. It was an ominous site for the two men because they knew that on this road there would be danger at every turn. Chuck looked at Billy and asked “You ready to get pumped up man?” Billy nodded as Chuck reached inside the CD index once more and pulled out the Nine Inch Nails CD. As the synth beats of Head Like a Hole started and their life of squalor disappeared in the rear view mirror, the two men felt their spirits lifted. Today was going to be a good day.
Soon the road which had been reasonably straight as it crossed the rolling Wyoming prairie, turned treacherous. Blind corners and deadly S curves were the rule here. Billy had just entered a particularly nasty corner when he realized that he was going far too quickly to safely navigate it’s apex. Billy, in an attempt to slow the truck to an appropriate speed for this corner decided to abruptly apply the brakes. The truck responded by jerking around violently, then spun itself around nearly 180 degrees. Everything suddenly turned to slow motion for Chuck and Billy as they observed the road they had just traveled. The truck, now on two wheels, lost much of the contents of empty beer cans out of it‘s six foot bed. Chuck looked out of the windshield and saw the beer cans falling from the sky like so much confetti glinting in the afternoon sun. Chuck then turned to his left and saw his twin brother flopping around like a rag doll, his head contacting the steering wheel repeatedly. He saw Billy’s mouth open in a scream, but not emitting a sound. With a squealing of tires the truck came to a stop. All was silent for a few moments as Chuck and Billy collected their senses. The men turned to face one another, Chuck was unscathed, but Billy had lost a front tooth and blood was gushing out of his mouth onto his white NASCAR T-shirt. Chuck screamed “Billy!!! Get out of the truck so you don’t bleed on the seats!!!”. Billy opened the door and rolled onto the pavement clutching his mouth and swearing. Chuck exited the truck to inspect for damage, fortunately none was to be found. Looking down the road they had just traveled he saw black streaks left by the tires arcing and twisting their way along the pavement. Beer cans littered the ground rattling back and forth in the breeze. Spitting out the last bits of blood, Billy climbed up into the driver’s seat once more. “What you waiting for Chuck?” Billy asked. Chuck responded “Hold on a minute!!! I’m just taking a piss!!!”
Back out on the open road Billy drove with a conviction, the truck’s engine, redlined screamed in protest. Officer Bradley of the Wyoming State Highway Patrol first heard the engine’s roar as he stepped out of his car to investigate some suspicious tire tracks exiting the highway. Realizing that something big was about to go down, he quickly entered his cruiser and waited. Moments later Chuck and Billy came careening around the bend and flew by Officer Bradley. Officer Bradley instantaneously recognized the two men and quickly radioed dispatch “I’m in pursuit!!! The Stergiss boys have taken the truck out again!!!”. Billy looked into his rearview mirror and saw the flashing lights of the patrol car quickly gaining on him. The truck was powerful, but Billy knew from previous experience that he would be unable to out maneuver the patrol car. “Hey Chuck, is that Officer Bradley behind us?” Chuck nonchalantly responded “Sure enough”. Billy quickly took evasive action by steering the truck off of the highway and through a field of bright yellow wild flowers. The truck’s tires, struggling to gain traction threw up globs of earth and rock as it fishtailed it‘s way up the side of the mountain. Officer Bradley pulled his patrol car to the side of the road, though he couldn’t follow them, he knew he would meet with these boys again real soon.
Chuck and Billy found themselves surrounded by beauty as they tore through a remote mountain meadow. A stream, teeming with brook trout meandered it’s way around the meadows edge. Flowers every color of the rainbow stretched themselves high above the lush green grass trying to get a glimpse of the azure blue skies. An hypnotic droning came from the bumblebees as they went about their day to day chores gathering pollen to feed their young . A fallen tree, rotten with age, lent it’s branches as a vantage point to an especially spirited blue bird singing praises to it‘s harmonious surroundings. Exiting a stand of trees on the meadows edge came a majestic moose, pausing to strip leaves from the branches of a small berry bush. “Check it out!!! It’s a goddamned moose” screamed Chuck at the top of his lungs. Without a moments hesitation Billy pressed the throttle to the floor and cranked the steering wheel. The truck spun around tearing vegetation from the ground and showering the bluebird with the meadow’s rich soil. The moose looked up, and seeing the truck quickly advancing let loose a three foot length of fecal rope. The moose spun around to flee the onslaught, nearly tripping over it’s own long ungainly legs. Chuck and Billy, laughing hysterically at the moose’s pitiable state of affairs, nearly lost control of the truck as it plowed through the stream bed. The time had come for the moose to make a decision or become victim to a fate too wretched to tell. The moose saw it’s opportunity and waited for the precise moment to act. At the definitive moment, the moose sharply veered to the left, nearly being struck by the truck.
It was too late for Chuck and Billy to act, they had been led into a sinister trap. The truck launched itself off of an embankment, and after a good deal of air time, came to a dramatic landing in the center of a shallow pond. The moose, confident of his victory, casually wandered over to the waters edge to watch the ensuing drama unfold. Billy jammed the truck back into gear ignoring the belittling comments directed at him by Chuck. The truck did not move, it’s spinning tires only digging deeper into the soft muddy bottom of the pond. Defeated in his attempts, Billy turned to Chuck and announced “Time to use the winch.” After a long awkward pause Billy continued “Well, c’mon Chuck, you always wanted to use the winch.”. Chuck reached into the glove box removing the winch’s control cable, turned to Billy and said “You got us in this one, you get us out!!”. Mumbling to himself, Billy exited the truck through it’s side window and waded through the stagnant waters to the front of the truck. The winch, a Warn 9.5xp was the latest addition to the truck’s array of remarkable features. Billy attached the control cable to the bumper mounted winch and began unwinding the cable, pulling it tight as he trudged through the ponds murky waters. The moose, seeing Billy pushing aside the water lilies to get to the ponds edge decided to complicate the two men’s lives even further. As Billy exited the reeds at the waters edge he came face to face with the moose. Surprised, Billy let out a high pitch squeaking noise and ran back into the water quickly splashing his way back to the truck.
Crawling back in through the truck’s side window, Billy stated that it would probably be best to wait until the moose left until they attempted to winch themselves out. This became more difficult than the two men had imagined. The moose, a very patient creature, was still patrolling the shores of the pond several hours later. As sunset approached a frustrated Chuck and Billy occupied their time by shouting expletives at a passing beaver. Each time the beaver paddled by the expletives became increasingly vile and descriptive. Soon darkness fell and the wonders of the heavens came to light. The thick creamy band of the Milky Way arched itself across the celestial sphere. What began as a vague pulsing green light to the north soon developed into an awe inspiring display of the aurora borealis. Extolling the wonders of the night, the woodland creatures raised their voices in praise. First were the frogs, emitting a cacophony of grates and chirps, soon followed by the haunting howls of the Grey wolf. Chuck had finally had enough, he rolled down his window and at the top of his lungs screamed “Shut up!!!!”. His outburst was quickly answered by a threatening grunt from the moose in the darkness nearby. Quickly rolling up his window Chuck turned to Billy and asked “Do you think that moose will be gone in the morning?”. Billy responded saying “I sure hope so Chuck, I’m really getting hungry.”.
Chuck and Billy awoke to a fresh new morning. Rays of sunlight pierced their way through the morning haze illuminating the meadow in ethereal tones. The mountain air, though a little brisk, was crisp and clean emanating the rich aromas of the countryside, the tops of the lodgepole pines swayed lazily in it‘s gentle breezes . A fine misting of dew shrouded the forest floor glimmering off the vast array of plant life. Everything was cleansed, refreshed, and ready to start the day, everything, but Chuck and Billy. “Man!! You stink.” said Chuck, referring to the rather manly scents emanating from Billy. Billy shrugged it off as he surveyed the pond’s shoreline for the moose. The moose had evidently left during the night, having felt satisfied in it’s victory over the Stergiss boys. Billy crawled back out through the truck’s side window, grabbed the winch’s cable and proceeded to attach the cable to a nearby tree. With a press of a switch the cable wound itself tight and began to pull the truck from it’s watery trap. Back up on terra firma, Chuck and Billy inspected their truck for damage. Other than a thorough coating of mud, the truck remained unscathed. Billy went to wash himself in the nearby stream, but found it’s icy waters unbearable. Shivering, he returned to Chuck waiting in the truck and said “Let’s go get something to eat.”.
Getting out of the forest was more difficult than the two men had imagined. They drove around for nearly an hour before they saw the silvery thread of highway 14 below them. The highway was not a great distance, but was cut off from them by a magnificent precipice of granite. Not finding a suitable way down, Billy decided to risk the lives of both Chuck and himself. “What the hell!!!” screamed Chuck as Billy drove the truck straight over the cliff’s edge. “I’m hungry man, gotta get something to eat.” said Billy as the truck careened over the large boulders and out into open air. The ride down the mountain side didn’t take long, though to Chuck and Billy it felt an eternity. At times the two men experienced a feeling of weightlessness similar to the ones described by astronauts in outer space. Chuck and Billy shared a moment as the CD index broke open and several of the disks seemingly floated around the cab as if guided by strings. Though neither man would admit to it later on, a bubble of what appeared to be vomit floated around the cab before exiting the sliding rear window. The truck ripped through the tops of the trees on the forest floor before coming to a stop. “Where is the closest place to eat?” asked Billy. “Probably Dayton I’d guess.” responded Chuck. Billy drove the truck back up onto the highway a short distance away and headed east, towards Dayton Wyoming.
It was early morning and many of the residents of Dayton Wyoming had yet to awaken from their slumber. The peace was about to be broken though by two unruly men from Greybull. The first sign of their arrival was a roar echoing off of the mountain sides, not unlike that of distant cannon fire in a brutal conflict. Chuck and Billy soon found a small restaurant on the outskirts of town called Meg’s Diner. Chuck had a bad feeling about Meg’s Diner and expressed his concerns about entering the establishment. Billy was hungry though and had to eat immediately so ignoring Chuck’s pleas he pushed his way through the front door. Chuck and Billy entered a dimly lit room hazy with cigarette smoke. The two men felt a cold chill run up their spines as they found their way to a corner booth and sat down. Soon a waitress who looked to have lived a hard life brought them menus, her piercing eyes sizing up the two men. Chuck and Billy both ordered the bisquits and gravy and while they waited they scrutinized their surroundings. The room was sparsely occupied by older men wearing cowboy hats. These were not like the rodeo cowboys that Chuck and Billy knew from Greybull, these men were hardened. The expressions on these men’s faces showed a lifetime of abhorrence. Deep lines and creases carved by the inhospitable Wyoming elements crisscrossed their faces. One of the cowboys turned to glare at Chuck and Billy, his gaze showing a pent up hatred that had been brewing for decades. A trembling hand, calloused from years of hard labor, raised a cigarette to the cowboy’s sneering lips. Not a word was spoken amongst these heartless men, but they all seemed to have a common objective, a plan for these two outsiders.
The waitress returned bringing Chuck and Billy their plates of food. At this point Billy was wishing that he would have trusted Chuck’s intuition about this seemingly wicked place. After the waitress boorishly heaved the plates of food at Chuck and Billy, she sauntered over to one of the cowboys and whispered something into his ear. The two of them turned and looked at Chuck and Billy with expressionless glares. From time to time these men would slowly nod to one another as if devising an unspoken plan. One of the cowboys, obviously preparing for something, undid the mother of pearl buttons on the sleeves of his shirt. Wide eyed, Chuck and Billy watched as he rolled up the sleeves over his massive arms. Chuck and Billy engulfed their food as quickly as they could, they wouldn’t risk staying here any longer than they had to. After they had finished their bisquits and gravy they hurriedly approached the waitress at the cash register. Billy had the money in hand, but the waitress was taking her sweet time ringing up the bill. The two men watched as one cowboy after another got up and left through the front door, none of them paying their bill. The waitress finally finished figuring out the cost of the food and stated an exorbitant figure to Billy. Rather than arguing with the hag, Billy handed her two fifty dollar bills to cover the cost of the bisquits and gravy. “Aren’t you going to tip?” asked Chuck. “I would, but we need some of this money for gas” responded Billy.
Exiting Meg’s Diner Chuck and Billy came face to face with five cowboys, all with callous looks upon their faces. The small statures of Chuck and Billy were dwarfed by the massive frames of these depraved men. The cowboys quickly encircled the Stergiss boys giving them nowhere to run. One of the cowboys, obviously the leader of the group was the first to speak. “Didn’t your daddy teach you boys how to respect women?” he grumbled in a deep raspy voice. Another one of the cowboys chided in saying “You tell them Randy, these boys, they just don’t show any respect. Poor old Norma Jean in there is just beside herself.”. In a flash Chuck and Billy were each grabbed by two cowboys, their arms painfully wrenched up behind their backs. Randy paced back and forth as if in contemplation of what to do next. Without any warning Randy began to ravage Chuck with a succession of blows, his fists finding their mark repeatedly to Chuck’s head and torso. Billy, unable to stand the sight of Chuck being brutalized turned his head, but he could still hear the slapping noises of Randy’s fist making contact with his twin brother.