Bars and Tourists don't mix!
On a return trip to Tinsel
Town (Hollywood California) in early 2000, Spud paced restlessly
in his hotel room wondering what new sites he should go out and explore.
Having been to Hollywood many times before, he had done all the main
tourist stops. His options were few ... There was Disneyland, but there's
something freaky about a giant mouse with gloves that keeps a dog as
a pet. There's the LaBreya Tar Pits, but staring at bubbling pools of
mud just didn't sound that exciting. Of course, he could have swung
by the Playboy Mansion, but Hef doesn't like vegetables floating in
Despondent, he sought refuge in the room's mini bar. Spud's sanity diminished
with each sampling of the refrigerator's elixirs and before long, the
little fridge was empty and Spud was full.
Having evaporated a large supply of brain
cells, the tuber hopped into a cab bound for Hollywood Boulevard to
do something 'really daring'. Instead of checking out the token tourist
stops like Ripley's Believe it or Not, Spud headed for the
nearest tattoo parlour.
After a short time selecting a design,
he found himself under the hot lights and a searing electric needle
engraving the side of his face with a little devil. The paralyzing
effect of the mini bar numbed the Potato to any pain.
After admiring himself in the mirror, he
noticed that the shop also performed body piercings. "What
the heck" he thought to himself and he parked himself back in the
chair to get his tongue pierced.
The colourful craftsman skillfully snared
Spud's tongue and thrust his needle through. Once again, the tuber
gave thanks to the many little bottles that gave their lives back in
the hotel room.
Looking mean and feeling wonky, Spud stumbled
out of the shop and onto the Boulevard. His liquid courage had made
him very tired and he wandered aimlessly down the street. An LAPD
squad car patrolling the area, noticed the rambling tuber and asked
him for identification. Drooling incessantly and unable to speak,
he couldn't tell the officer that his passport was in the hotel. The
policeman took his appearance and rambling as that of a transient and
tossed him into the car. The potato was somewhat oblivious to
what was happening and passed out in the back seat. The next
morning Spud awoke face down on the cold cement of the county jail -
his head pounding like a Tyco drum.
Upon being released later that day, Spud
walked into the restroom to clean himself up.and noticed his new look
in the mirror. The potato gasped in horror as he saw his new accoutrements
for the first time with a clear head. Goes to show that mini bars
and tourists don't mix!