Weasels in the Outfield

By Beatnik

And now a little tale of Weasels in the outfield.

My club brother Bomber, decided it would be a fun outing to have the Weasels rent a bus and go out to Dodger Stadium to take in a baseball game. In itself the idea is not a bad one. Fairly innocent sounding. Just a group of happy guys bonding and enjoying the great american pastime. But this fails to take into account the genuine general psychosis that exists in our group. When we are just among ourselves at the local dive it's less apparent. We're in our element. Our behavior SEEMS almost normal. But we were heading into the vortex of everything that decent society stands for. Family values. Fair play. Nice families out for a peaceful night at the ball park. How could they know that a busload of giant drunken mutant motorcycle perverts was on it's way to their section to throw a bad jolt into their lives? I guess there was about fifty of us. along with coolers full of beer and "Weasel Juice." Thank god I don't drink cause everyone else was being forced to take shots of this foul orange swill. I think they made it out of various boozes, cheap orange drink and prescription cough syrup for that extra brain fizz. I was mortified. I smelled doom in the air. I said to my friend Roger, "I think we're going to be beaten with billy clubs tonight. When the really heavy shit starts, we should just strip off our colors and run onto the field. I think it's our only hope." As we approached Dodger Stadium the first rush of booze and drugs were kicking in and the scene on the bus was getting mighty ugly. You should probably know that the neighborhoods around the stadium are mostly poor mexican and asian, and undoubtedly they were not expecting a bus full of drunken bikers loudly trying to negotiate a price for their women. The few women who made the trip with us were beginning to realize what a horrible mistake they had made, and were probably thankful our sexual attention had shifted temporarily to the mamacitas from age 6 to 60 on the street. When we reached the stadium our bus driver stalled the bus at the entrance gate sending several drunks who were standing in the isle crashing forward in a heap, as our whole group was chanting, "we're fucked up! We're fucked up!". I imagine this was the first call to security about our group of the night. It would not be the last. While standing around waiting to go in, someone handed me a joint. I thought, well, fuck. why not? This scene tonight had such an air of an impending riot that I thought the only way to handle it without freaking out was to roll with it to some extent. If you're not going to be part of the solution, the least you could do is a be part of the problem. The pot was really strong. By the time we reached the gate to go inside, my head was totally scrambled. I handed the guy my ticket and he started yelling at me. I couldn't understand what he was saying. I finally realized he was pointing at my cigar and saying, "Turn it off...turn it off...jew caind smoke insie!" I threw the stogie behind me nearly hitting a Korean family with it, and he pushed me through the turnstile. Nobody knew where to go. I looked at my ticket stub and was too far gone to read it. Finally after surrounding a nervous usherette, the group started moving En masse and I followed along like a retarded stepson. When we finally reached our section, I pulled Roger aside and said, Let's just watch the arrival from afar." About ten Weasels went loudly down to their seats and I could see the looks of the surrounding crowd. Their faces said. "These guys are assholes but they'll be thrown out early and we'll enjoy the game." But Then when the main body of weasels who had been held up in the beer line came crashing down the Isle you could see the look change to abject horror at the magnitude of this retard circus. Someone yelled at the top of his lungs, GIVE US YOUR DRUGS AND WOMEN AND THERE'LL BE NO TROUBLE!" I remember saying to Roger, "If we were smart, we'd hit the exit and call a cab right now." Roger agreed that we were not the least bit smart. Now there's two things I should mention here. first, aside from being weasel night at Dodger Stadium, it was also COP NIGHT at Dodger Stadium, and suffice it to say, many in our group have had many unpleasant dealings with the authorities. So when a Cop appeared on the field to sing the national anthem, let's just say that the sound we made was not polite applause. The presence in the crowd of possibly hundreds of off-duty cops did not make me feel any easier about our foul situation. Secondly, The team playing the Dodgers was the San Francisco Giants, Their hated rivals. The colors of the Giants are Orange and black-which are also coincidentally the Weasel colors. So everyone around us not only thought we were drunken baboons, they also thought we were Giants fans which gave their hate additional meaning and depth. We created many new chants in Dodger stadium that night. among them were, "bring on the whores!" "fuck frisco" "lesbians-lesbians-we want lesbians!" We broke every rule of the Stadium. We blocked the isles. We annoyed and verbally attacked everyone within earshot. we shouted obscenities to kids. We smoked pot in the stands. We sexually harassed every female we saw. We violated every code of civilized behavior AND WE NEVER GOT THROWN OUT! I have to conclude that there were just too many of us. I mean if they wanted to eject us, they certainly could. But the scene would be so horrifying that they thought it better to just leave us be. At least we would only ruin the game for the people around us and hopefully, at the end we would leave peacefully. And most certainly we did ruin the game for the people around us. The freak circus that is the weasels was a bad jolt to the sports fans in attendance. Some big mexican guys sitting near us kept looking over like they'd sure like to get one of us alone. But nobody messed with us. nobody yelled at us. Hell, they were trying hard to ignore us. But we were impossible to ignore. We were too weird, loud and obscene. I sort of felt bad for the parents that were going to have to explain this weird shit to their kids later on, but ahh fuck it. It's probably good for them to see the world is full of freaks and dipshits.

It comes down to this. I remember going to the bathroom early on and the dad-type guy pissing next to me inquired, "So who are the Weasels, anyways?" I answered, "Mostly good people, but with a lot of mental and emotional problems that tend to manifest themselves in the area of drug abuse and violence. It's good to get them out in public sometimes to show them how civilized people behave. The only thing that worries me are all the sex offenders in our group. Once they start getting drunked up they lose control of their inhibitions along with most of their motor skills. They tend to drool a lot and attempt fornication with young girls. At Disneyland they all gang-fucked a group of Bolivian nuns on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They pulled them right off the boat and got up into the pirate village. One guy took a full 220 volt shock in his dick when he tried to butt-fuck one of the animatronic robots. The regular patrons saw this horrible scene and thought wow, Disney's really loosening up. The only thing that kept them out of jail was, when the nuns came screaming out of the ride nude, with tales of an attack by weasels who penetrated all their orifices with their huge throbbing uncircumcised members, the security staff thought they were on acid and immediately had them deported to Tijuana. By then the Weasels were long gone. I think everything will be fine though, at least until the eighth inning when they stop selling beer. I don't think most of these guys know about the eighth inning cut-off, and I'd hate to be the poor vender bastard that tells them their beer supply is history. When that happens I expect bad fucking trouble. A steady beer supply is the only thing that keeps some of them stabilized. Without it, their current behavior is junior Cub Scout level. I don't think there's enough security in this place to handle fifty weasels in full psychosis. Whoever sold us these seats is an idiot. If I was you I'd take my family and get the hell out of here before all hell breaks loose. There's nothing these animals like more than to terrorize people. They consider it sport. They're probably closing in on your family while you're up here peeing. Jesus, I hope you haven't got a daughter down there. They've probably got her pinned down under the seats by now. Hey, where are you going?" He had quickly zipped up and run out the bathroom door Maybe he was scrambling to save his loved ones from the viking horde. "He didn't even wash his hands, "I said to the wall, "How uncouth." I zipped up and strolled out into the cool L.A. evening. I suppose that somewhere down on the field a game was being played. Maybe it was crucial. Maybe it didn't matter as the Dodgers continued their steady slide into last place. I walked past the twenty rent-a-cops suddenly assigned to our section and thought, "They're going to need more cops." and ambled down the stairs. I saw the dad from the bathroom hustling his family up the other aisle and wished I was going with them. The scene below me in the seats was like a modern version of Caligula. Weasels were falling all over each other in a drunken orgy of retard devotion. Oh well. I took my wretched place among my brothers and waited for the hammer to come down. It never did. And it never will.