When Rumsfeld stepped down, Penn Jillette had a segment on his radio show where people called in and shared their stories of meeting Rumsfeld. Penn only wanted true stories, that an atheist like him, could swear to God were true. Nothing made up or fictional at all. Penn told a lovely story about the time that he and Rummy were living as lovers in Florida, I might add. With the passing of the good reverend, I thought that we should do something similar to remember his passing.
So, if you have a story about how Jerry touched you, even if it was somehow inappropriate, please share it here, so we can better remember him.
I only met Jerry once, but it was a time to remember. It was back when I had the Chrysler up and running. As anyone who’s owned a massive piece of Detroit iron can tell you, you simply can not drive the car at the posted speed. The very nature of the beast compels you to open her up and ride with the engine wide open, which is what I was doing that night. I had the window rolled down, the radio blasting, smoking a cigarette, enjoying the night air, and relaxing.
Suddenly, in the distance, my headlights illuminated a crash scene ahead of me that was blocking both lanes. At the speeds I was travelling, I knew that I’d be lucky to be able to stop in time, but the ditches on both side of the road were too steep and deep to think about trying to swerve around the wreck. Only one thing to do: Stand on the brakes, throw the car sideways, and hope that she managed to stop in time.
The nice thing about my Chrysler is that she’s big and yet has delicate controls, so I knew that I could keep her on the road, as she scrubbed her speed in a squeal of protesting tire rubber and smoke. It was just a question if I could miss the wreck, and the two figures I now saw standing beside it. I think that I might have been screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself over the tire noise, if I was. As the car spun around, I could tell that the two figures were oblivious to my approach. I wondered if it was because they were so stunned from the crash or if they were high on drugs.
The car came to a halt just before the two figures. One of them was a heavy set man, in a grey tailored suit, with silver hair. The other, appeared to be a blood covered prostitute, limp in the man’s arm. Her mouth was open, head back, and a bloody tongue flopped outside one corner of her mouth.
I said there, stunned, trying to catch my breath, staring at the couple in disbelief. The man was vigorously shaking her with one hand, while his other hand was clutched firmly about his pants waist.
“You call that a blow job, you bitch?” I could hear him shouting as I stuck my head out the window. “I pay you two dollars and all you can do is lick my dick?”
“Uh, excuse, me,” I say. The man turns to glare at me, and in my headlights I can see that it’s Jerry Falwell.
“Can’t you see I’m working here?” He snaps at me. There’s gas and steam pouring from the overturned wreck of a car, but Falwell seems to be oblivious to all of it.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yeah.” he snaps at me, shaking the whore in my direction.
“Are you sure?” I’m not really sure of what I should be doing at this point. It’s a back road, and I’ve got no cell service in the area, so I can’t call for help without leaving, and the prostitute looks to be dead. “It looks like your friend’s dead.”
Falwell turns back to the whore, let’s go of his pants, which promptly fall down, checks her for a pulse, then flings her away disgustedly, and pulls his pants back up. He walks towards me, putting on that famous smarmy smile of his.
“Friend,” he says as he approaches the window. “As you can see I’m in a bit of a bad place, I wonder if you could be so kind as to help a fellow Christian out.”
“Uh, I’m an atheist,” I say.
“Then get the fuck out of the car!” He snarls at me as a snub nose .38 suddenly materializes in his hand.
I briefly toy with the idea of throwing the car into reverse and punching it, figuring the odds of a .38 round being able to penetrate the metal or glass of the car with any risk of lethality being pretty slim. Then he shoved the barrel in my mouth and pulled the hammer back. I put the car into park, raised my hands and got out as he opened the door.
Falwell, climbed into the car, shut the door, while keeping the gun pointed at me, and then suddenly began patting himself down, as if looking for something in desperation.
“My Viagra! Where’s my Viagra?” he shouted. He put the gun down in the seat and began to frantically go through his pockets.
I lowered my hands slowly and watched him search while trying to think as to how I could turn this moment to my advantage. I had to, at the very least, find a way to get back into the car. I’d installed a “kill switch” under the dash on the passenger side. If I could get to that, I could cut the engine off, and he’d never be able to figure out how to get the car running again.
“It must have fallen out in my car!” He whirled and pointed the gun at me again, my hands shot back up. “You’ve got to get it for me!”
“Uh,” I said, eyeing the car oozing flammable fluids one moment, and Falwell’s piece the next. “I’m not really sure. . .”
“Get in there and get it you fuck!” he screamed at me, gesturing wildly with the gun.
“Okay.” I said, letting the cigarette fall from my lips as I turned to head towards the car. As the butt hit the ground, it rolled into a stream of gasoline that was flowing from the wreck. The gas, just like in the movies, caught fire, and began racing towards the twisted mass of Falwell’s Mercedes. I spun around and began racing back towards my car, screaming “Oh shit!”
Falwell was panicking and trying to throw the car into gear, while revving the engine. As I managed to grab the doorsill, he found Drive and the car spun off. I pulled myself up on to the roof and clung on for dear life, paying that he wouldn’t wreck my baby.
The shockwave from the blast, flipped me down on to the windshield, and Falwell jammed on the brakes, flinging me off the car, and tumbling down on to the road. I lay there, with my hand trying to block the glare of the headlights, staring at the car, wondering if this was finally going to be it for me.
I heard Falwell put the car into Park and relaxed slightly. He opened the door and got out. I scooted backwards on my ass, ignoring the pain I was feeling, trying to see out of the corner of my eyes, if there was anywhere I could dive for cover.
The hand that was pointing the gun at me was shaking with rage. I kept trying to back away, hoping that there was a ditch nearby that I could flip myself into, and lose him in the darkness.
“You miserable little fuck!” I could see the spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done? I’m going to blow your balls off!”
I began scooting faster. There had to be a ditch around here somewhere. Falwell kept coming closer, then he looked at his watch.
“Shit!” He said. “I need a whore! Get in the goddamn car!”
“Uh,” I started to say.
“Get in the motherfucking car!” His face was beet red, and his voice had taken on a high pitched tone. “I don’t know my way around here! I’ve got forty five minutes before my dose runs out! You’ve got to find me a whore, now!”
“But I don’t know where any are.” I said. Which was the truth. I’ve got no problems with prostitution, but “working girls” aren’t my thing, you know?
“You just get me to a bar, I’ll find the fucking whores!” He gestured with the gun.
I got up and got back into the car, with Falwell sliding into the seat next to me, never for a moment letting the gun waver from being pointed right at my crotch. I put the car into gear, and started driving slowly back towards town.
“Faster, you bitch!” he screamed at me, jabbing the pistol in my crotch. “I don’t have much time.”
I floored the car and tried not to think about the cold steel in my groin. There’s no bars on the road we were on, and I wasn’t really sure of which one I should take him to. I don’t frequent any of the bars in town, so I don’t know what they’re like and I couldn’t imagine that any of them would have prostitutes in them. I didn’t know if it would be a good idea or not, to ask him what kind of bar he wanted me to take him to.
“What kind of bar do you want to go to?” I asked, hesitantly.
“I’ll know it when I see it!” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “I can smell a whore from a hundred yards away!”
There was a country bar on the north side of town that wasn’t too far away from where were, so I headed in that direction, the big car squealing as I rounded the curves. I wondered how he’d act if the police noticed us. How would I explain this to them later, that I had a crazed TV preacher hopped up on Viagra with a gun pointed at my crotch? A traffic light appeared up ahead and turned red, I started to slow.
“Don’t slow down!” He screamed at me, jabbing the gun in my crotch repeatedly. I punched the gas and whipped the car through the intersection at something like 90 MPH. Bright flashes suddenly started going off and Falwell looked around wildly.
“What was that?” He demanded, emphasizing hs words with a jab of the gun.
“Red light cameras. They took pictures of the car since we drove through the light.” I said.
“What?” He screamed, girl like. “Go back, go back, damn you!”
I snapped the car around in a cloud of vaporized rubber and squeeling tires. The front end was picking up a bit of vibration, and I hoped we hadn’t broken a tie rod or something. While the car could certainly handle the punishment I was putting her through, if the components were new, I hadn’t had a chance to rebuild anything, so it was only a matter of time before nearly forty year old parts gave out, if we kept this up much longer.
“Stop!” Falwell shouted when we returned to the intersection. I jammed on the brakes, and he slid over to the passenger side, rolled the window down and began shooting out the cameras and their control boxes. I noticed that none of Falwell’s shots missed. He might have been stressed to the max, but the man was a crack shot. It was a good thing that I didn’t try to run earlier. I’d have never made it.
“Go!” He shouted at me, when he was finished shooting. I didn’t even bother counting how many shots he fired, I just punched it , and headed towards the nearest bar.
As we approached the bar, Falwell leaned, doglike out the window, and began sniffing the air. I thought about whipping the car so he’d fall out, but noticed that he had the gun still pointed in my direction.
“Not this one!” He shouted, still keeping his head out the window. “Take me to another one!”
I sped up and headed for the only other bar in town that I could think of. Falwell slid back inside, and checked his watch.
“Shit!” He said. “Not much time!”
He then tore up the front of his pants, grabbed his dick and began pumping furiously with one hand, while still managing to keep the gun steady on me.
“Come on! Come on!” He chanted in time to his pumping. “Almost there, baby, almost there.”
I pulled the car into the lot of the bar and jammed on the brakes. Falwell leaned over and yanked the keys out of the ignition.
“Wait here!” He said, backing out of the car with the gun trained on me, and his other hand clamped around his dick through his pants.
I dove under the dash once he disappeared inside the bar, planning on hotwiring the car so that I could get the hell out of there, when I heard the sound of a woman prostesting. Looking up, I noticed that Falwell was dragging a woman out by her wrist. One hand holding both her and the gun, while the other was still clenching his dick.
“Drive!” He said, throwing the keys at me, wrenching open the back door and throwing the poor woman in before climbing in after her.
I didn’t wait for him to shut the door before taking off. I figured that anything I could do to make things difficult for him would lessen the chance I’d be charged as an accessory. I didn’t know where to drive, either. Both the police station and the sheriff’s department could only be reached by crossing a nasty set of railroad tracks, and while I wasn’t opposed to doing a “Dukes of Hazzard” manover, I didn’t want to tear the car up, and have him kill us both. So I just drove and hoped I’d think of something.
Whomever the woman was, she was putting up a helluva fight in the back seat. I could hear Falwell screaming at her to stop struggling, and several times something hit the back of my seat so hard I was very nearly driven into the steering wheel. When I thought I could get away with it, I’d snake the car hard on the road, to make things difficult for him.
“Gimmie your goddamn panties!” Falwell snapped, then there was the sound of ripping cloth.
Realizing that if I didn’t do something now to stop Falwell, the rape was going to happen. I jammed on the brakes and put the car into a hard spin. Twisting around, I could see Falwell pressed up against the door, with the tattered remnants of the woman’s panties wrapped around his dick. Keeping the wheel locked, I floored the gas pedal, keeping Falwell pinned up against the door. He didn’t seem to notice, however. His eyes were clamped shut, and his head was tilted back as his hand furiously stroked his cock. His mouth kept flopping open wordlessly.
Clouds of smoke began to billow up around the car, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the tires gave out. What I was going to do then, I had no idea, but if I could just keep him away from the woman until I could think of something that was all that I was concerned about at that moment.
“Mommy! Mommy!” He started screaming and thrashing about. “Jerry’s coming mommy! Little Jerry’s coming! Don’t you love me, mommy?”
At that moment, his arm hit the door handle, which released the door and he went spinning into the night. I jammed on the brakes and brought the car to a halt. The door swung shut, and without bothering to look at the woman, or where Falwell might be, I aimed the car down the road and punched the gas, shouting to the woman to be calm, that I was going to take her to the police.
When we got to the police station, the woman staggered out, clutching her clothes around her body and ran off into the night. I thought about going inside and telling the police what happened, but without any witnesses, how was I going to get them to believe me?
So I got back in the car and headed back home at a reasonable speed. I’ve no idea what happened to the woman, or how Falwell made it back to Virginia. I guess he’s got people to handle that for him.
So, anybody else have a true Falwell story to share?
