steal your pants right off your ass

We stole a backhoe and all the ROAD CLOSED signs from the unfinished overpass and were all set to desecrate graves when Escho suggested we go over to his girlfriend's place and see if we can modify the scoop shovel fast enough to use it as a catapult. Mark, who had some schooling, tried to explain the impossibility of this idea and told Escho he wouldn't get any more potato vodka if he kept postponing our immanent greatness with petty distractions but by the time he finished his speech we were already at Maryanne's house and halfway through her front hedges when some dude (Mandy's husband, I learned later -- Escho had not been forthcoming with certain critical mission details) started throwing shoes at us from what remained of the porch. I'm not a big guy but I'm a scrapper, so immediately I ran into action, and by action I mean the mailbox, so between head trauma and the moonless night the next part is a bit fuzzy, but I do remember Mark swinging the boom like a slow-motion tail trying to knock Maryanne's husband Dwayne off the porch while Escho took out his lighter and started blowing fireballs at Dwayne between screaming "I'll burn you, man! I'll burn this whole world to the ground!" and I decided it was time to make my exit, so I ran a couple blocks to the Guns N Likker and passed out in the bathroom. This act of alleged cowardice is the reason I no longer get to drive the backhoe, and I *guess* that's fair, but I figure since I'm the one who actually bought a shovel and went out to the graveyard to finish the job while those simps caught 72 hours of cushy observation at Mercy I should get a pass for actually doing what the woman in the television told us to do.