Dirty Dave
This is not your typical spoiled brat story. Dirty Dave was king of the white trash spoiled brats. To see him you would think that he was homeless. Greasy long hair, unkempt straggly beard, pick marks on his arms and face. But the fact of the matter was his grandfather invented a type of chemotherapy that made them extremly wealthy.

When I met Dave I was an aspiring young pot dealer and he was a pot head. He would buy a half ounce twice a week and generally hang out as long as possible before I would kick him out. I wondered where he got the money for all the weed as it was obvious he didn't work. My answer came the time he told me he was tired and that his Mom was coming to get his sack. At one point the mother decided that maybe Dave could be a pot dealer himself and gave him $1200 to come over and buy a quarter pound. He did this for a few weeks before his order went back to the usual half ounce. I never asked what had happened, but through a mutual acquaintance I was told that he had called Dave for pot once, and his Mother was the one who dropped it off.

Dave had a different car everytime I saw him but it was always some crazy tweak mobile. One week a '78 Trans Am, the next a '66 Vette, the next a '71 Bug with all the fixings. One time he asked if I could deliver a bag as he had broken his wrist falling off his new Harley. When I pulled in his massive driveway I had to park a half mile away as all his classic cars were in various states of disrepair scattered down the driveway. His parents house was in the Hollywood Hills on a few acres that was home to Dave's wrecked dirt bikes, model train tracks, and archery targets.

Did I mention Dirty Dave was a Tweaker? No? Well, he was.

His parents dared not say no to him. While he was always cool with me, he was physically abusive to his parents who were terrified of him. His Dad had eventually had enough and said no to him one day.

Here's where it gets good, one day Dave calls me up. Usually it's just for weed, but the tone in his voice was different that day.

"Dude, I need to come over for a little while."

"OK, is something wrong?" I asked. "Are the police looking for you? What did you do?"

"My Dad is being an asshole. I need to get out of here."

Nervously I said, "Look, don't come over here if the cops are looking for you."

"Don't worry, it's all good."

And that was the last I heard of Dave until 4 days later when his Mom called me. He had been packing one of his cars to come over to my house. He had beaten her up pretty good and threw his Dad down the stairs so they had called the police. When the police showed up Dave just happened to be loading his rifles into the car. They jumped out of their squad car with their weapons drawn. Dave was told to put down his weapon. Dave's reply was, "No, put down your weapons."

Three hours, 30 police officers, helicopter, a tear gas grenade, a tazer, and a few dozen bean bag bullets later Dirty Dave was in custody. And now 3 days later his Mom was asking me to write a letter to the Judge stating that Dave was bringing the guns over to my house because we were going to the shooting range the next day. I never did write the letter, mainly because I felt a short stint in jail might be good for him. But of course his parents hired a crack legal team that got all charged dropped and he wound up with an $89 dollar fine for disturbing the peace.

Last I heard Dave was living in Santa Barbara with his grandparents as all other members of his family have restraining orders out on him. He bounces in and out of rehab centers and jail. Even after all that his parents still buy his dirty ass anything he desires.
(anotherlogan and the whit he shites, Mon 13 Oct 2008, 20:56, 5 replies)

I thought this was going to be a pun post right up until the last line.
It's got a nutty enough premise to be one.
( Bob Todd whee, Mon 13 Oct 2008, 21:52, closed)

If I could make this up
I wouldn't be selling mattresses. Not really a funny story, but 100% true.
(anotherlogan and the whit he shites, Mon 13 Oct 2008, 23:50, closed)

I fucking hate
tweakers. In fact, you've just inspired my next post.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 0:07, closed)

What's
a tweaker?
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Tue 14 Oct 2008, 10:53, closed)

Tweakers...
...are methamphetamine addicts.
(oball needs Satan more than he needs me, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 4:25, closed)