Bobby Lightfoot's Asshole Celebrity Fight Week #2: Rumble In Th' Panhandle

Oh, this one's ugly, gang. Not a romantic saga by any stretch. Damn it. Remember in "Thelma 'n' Louise" where the one skirt is all on about never going to Texas? Yeah, I'm on that shit. Never, ever go to fucking Texas. If I was reassigned there after th' goddamn Katrina I would've hightailed my ass to Cabrini Green in six sekkinds flat swear to Christ. An ugly, scary, bad place.

Especially that god damn Panhandle. It's like a Bermuda Triangle of Fuck, man. Wouldn't play there, wouldn't live there. Not even Austin, baby. Not even Austin. Fuck that. Life's too short for that kind of bad vibes, man. Oh. Criminy.

Gotta drive through it though, y'know? Gotta rock that Panhandle if you're a rock band and you're heading east or west.

Well, no more. No more.

So I'm on th' 60 between Hereford and Amarillo. Dead a night. I'm in the old Dodge cargo van. I leave the radiator cap at the gas station a million miles ago like a god damn stoopie. Oh, shit- temp needle's pegged, I'm dry and it's 2 AM, man. I got a bottle of Windex and a bladder full of Nature's Coolant. Almost enough, babe. Not quite. Gets me a mile at a time. Drive a mile, wait a hour. Mile, hour.

Yeah, I'm well and truly fucked. But what's that? I see headlights approaching from th' west. A car! I'm saved! I wave 'em down. Car pulls over thank Christ. But then who should explode from the driver's side of th' goddamned Lexus SUV but ANN FUCKING COULTER!! And she's PISSED!

And the worst thing is she's packing heat! A god damn assault rifle no shit! Hey, I told you about fucking Texas!! Aaaiiiieee! Bad news! But what's she so pissed about???

Then I remember- the bumper stickers! Shit!! I got one of them "somewhere in Texas a village is missin' an idiot" ones and I got one of those Dodge ones from my last oil change sez "yeah, it's got a Hemi" but I anagrammed it into "hey eat this amigo". She probably doesn't care about that one but th' "idiot" one is NOT gonna fly with the Coultinator! Ouch!

What the fuck is your problem, pussyboy? she shrieks, stomping over to me with that rifle on her hip. I'm gonna ventilate your liberal fag college boy ass right here, faggot!

Gun comes up and I think quick and drop and roll under the van. Ann doesn't waste any goddamn time. She flips that safety off and it's pap pap pap! into the tarmac. Pap pap pap! She's got that bad boy on three-round burst pap pap pap! The blacktop is breaking up in front of me and I'm eating hot asphalt and it hurts pretty good as it gauges into my face. I roll and I'm out the other side and into the pitch black field over the shoulder lickety-split, god damn.

Get back here faggot boy Ann screams into the night. She goes full auto and sprays the whole god damned fucking field with her last 11 drrrr-drrrr-drrrr. Bad fucking news, man. I drop and roll again, eating dirt as the earth geysers up all around me from her volley. I'm gonna cap your pussy ass, amigo! Hey, eat THIS amigo!!

I catch a god damn grazer on the inside of my right thigh right then. God damn! Shit! Hurts like a fucker but misses the artery. Misses the plumbing by swear to god two inches. Now I'm pissed. I tear the right sleeve off my Chune long sleeve concert T and tie off, cursing the fucking bitch. Then I'm up and fading back and to the left as Coulter digs in her glove compartment for another clip. Back and to the left.

She's up and back with impressive speed, locked and loaded. Say what you will about that fucking witch Ann Coulter, she can speed load with the best of 'em. She's like god damn Special Forces but smaller and smellier.

Up that fucker comes fast as lightening, but this time I'm ready for her. I chuck a big rock over where I was and she opens up like a fucking spiggot on it and I hightail it in a big arc that gets me to th' back of my van. PA-DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH!!! Fucker erupts like Saint Helens and she leans into that shit. Doesn't move an inch from the kick. She's wearing a cheerleader outfit.

Wait. That's not in this story.

I'm not goin' to wreck the veracity by embellishing, you know?

That's the Phyllis Diller in the Frozen Goods Section story, which will come your way later this week in "Bobby Lightfoot's Asshole Celebrity Fight Week". Stay tuned.

What will this fucking guy come up with next? I ask you? God damn Lightfoot! When's he going to run dry, for Christ's sake?

Oh, just you fucking wait. Just wait.

She's wearing a black coverall and a black baseball cap that she flipped around right before she started rocking and rolling. She's having a good, good old time, the whore. This is like a hobby for her and I suspect she's been trolling the low desert for illegals and got bored.

You fucking down yet, pussy? she screams into the night. You liking what mama's got for you, fucker?

I'm almost back to the rear of my van now, moving low and fast in the dark. Ann is muttering something about waxing herself a motherfucking college pussy fag and I'm sneaking in. Grab another rock. Thigh is hurting pretty good but it's just a flesh wound. Pretty bleedy though. I'll make it.

I've got plans for Coulter.

I throw the rock high far on down the road and when it clatters to the pavement she opens up again. 6, 7, 8 rounds. She likes to heat that fucker up. Out of the back of the van comes my bigass Dodge Extended 1 Ton Van tire iron. Fucker's heavy, feels real good. My hands tingle at the thought of coming down on Coulter with that shit.

Fuck, she yells. Fuck, god damn it...she jogs on down the road a spell, a little confused now. I'm rolling and back under my van by the time she walks back. I see her combat boots coming towards me and I wait until just the right moment and I sweep that bad boy right into her ankles with everything I've got.

Coulter's feet fly up in front of her and she's down like a sack of old shit, her AR70 clattering to the asphalt a couple feet away. I roll out right quick and onto her, getting the tire iron across her throat while she gasps with surprise. I bear down and one second too late I start crossing my legs so she can't do the St. Vitus Attack. I don't get the full brunt of it but her knee in th' pills is no pleasure cruise. My eyes go wide and there's a brief glimmer of triumph in her face pisses me off no end.

I roll of off Coulter and make for her rifle. She's sputtering but trying to grab me by the legs. I kick her in the teeth a couple times and she don't like that action one bit. Her keening shrieks are unpleasant and grating. I get to the gun, check the safety and bring it around and into her face. Here you go you psychotic freak! I yell and come down on the trigger. Clicks. Clicks is all I get. Fucking overheat.

What a bitch that is. I should've known the AR70 would freeze up the way she was burning it up. She's smiling again and I shove the barrel right into her nose whick elicits a shriek and a satisfying crunching sound. Her eyes are bright with a frightening rage and I crawl away from her and regain my feet. She's up and pissed and pulls a 10-inch survival knife from a back holster.

We circle there on th' two lane, two crouched figures in th' headlights.

Coulter comes in fast and low but I'm ready for the bitch and I step in left and give her a whack on the side of the knee with my right foot. She flails but recoups and I barely duck out of the way of that knife coming at me. I catch her wrist and let her own momentum take her off balance. I give her the gun butt in her side and up into her tit. Bring the old elbow around into her mouth. She grabs at the gun with her free hand and I let her have it in the gut with my right knee. I come up three times and on the last one she goes over and horks up her dinner right there splap-a-dap.

You fucking bastard she screams and slams her head into my mouth. Oh, it fucking hurts, man. I see red in a big way and the taste of blood is sudden and thick with pain. I got at least two chips which pisses me off no small amount because I don't have dental and this radio tour is way in the fucking red already. Dammit!

I see that knife come up and that wakes me up right fucking quick, believe you me. I lean back out of the way but just barely. She comes back down with that thing and slices my upper arm a little bit.

But that's when it turns for Ann, see. I work into her side again try the side of the knee thing again. This time is the charm and her leg gives and she goes down bad. Bang. Aaaaahhhh....ahhhh...you cocks-s-sucker...! She screams as she crab-crawls away from me.

I come over, white hot pissed and give her a pop in the face with my hiking boot. What the fuck is your problem, you crazy fucking Nazi witch? I yell at her. Here's some tasty college pussy hiking boot for your ass. Give her another. One with the toe. Wipe the blood off on her shoulder. She's pretty still by now, groaning and cursing, and I get up and head for her Lexus SUV. I pull my shirt off and lean in th' driver's side and open the gas tank. Pop. I twist the shirt up and shove it into the gas tank real good. I head back up and fire the puppy up and back it away a couple feet and point it sideways. Put 'er in neutral and jam the AR70 between the seatback and th' pedal. Fucker revs like a banshee on steroids. Shirt's smelly with gas by now and I fire it up with my Zippo. Burns low. Low and steady. Good.

Back up to the cabin and I jam that fucker into first with everything I've got. Pops like a cannon and whips ass off the shoulder and into the desert. It's ghostly the way she heads on out across the pampas, disappearing into the night. Just when the rear lights wink out there's an ungodly whoomp and she goes up like a roman fucking candle ba-DDDDDOOOOOM.

It's an awesome and belittling sight, something everyone should see. A Lexus SUV lit up in the pitch black desert night like St. Elmo's god damn Fire coming down on th' evil ones and the whisperers.

Coulter is barely conscious and I drag her over to the far shoulder by her legs. And leave her there.

Van's cool enough by now to limp into Amarillo.

Fucking Ann Coulter! How about that, huh?

What a total twat!