<Spinner_8> So I guess we'll be leaving now.
<TheRedEye> ...what?
<TheRedEye> You mean, like, really leaving town?
<Spinner_8> Yeah.
<TheRedEye> You sure you don't want to stay another day or so?
<Spinner_8> Nah, we really should be heading back...
<TheRedEye> Well...okay.
<TheRedEye> It's been nice to meet you guys, and...yeah.
<Sardius> Yeah, I know. It was great meeting you, and this all was just...you know, waaay too much fun.
<Sardius> ...ooh, waitaminute.
* Sardius rummages through his bag o' stuff.
<Sardius> Would you mind...
<Sardius> ...God this is going to sound so retarded...
<Sardius> Er, you think you could sign this for me?
* Sardius hands TheRedEye his copy of Poker III.
<TheRedEye> Um...sure, what the hell.
<Sardius> Thanks.
<Sardius> I know your signed, drooled-on napkin you gave me is awesome, but this would be great to have, too.
<Sardius> Plus, it's the LEAST you can do, since I bought it from you and all. Ahem.
<TheRedEye> Mmm...
<TheRedEye> All right, there you go.

<Sardius> Haha, great. Thanks again.
<TheRedEye> No problem.
<TheRedEye> Oh, and Sardius?
<Sardius> Yeah?
<TheRedEye> Here, take this. It's yours.
* TheRedEye hands Sardius a large blue and white Avon box.
<Sardius> Oh shit, is this what I think it is...?
<TheRedEye> Yeah, it's that DDR clone you were asking about.
<TheRedEye> Take it.
<Sardius> Wow...you sure you want to give this to me? Like, for free?
<TheRedEye> Well, you can pay me for it if you want...but yeah, my plan was just to give it to you.
<Sardius> Well...jeez man, I...thank you. Thanks so much.

<Spinner_8> Psh.
<Spinner_8> Where's my present?
<TheRedEye> ...oh, uh.
* TheRedEye reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a packet of allergy medicine, and throws it on the table.
<TheRedEye> Yeah, there you go.
<Spinner_8> ...
<TheRedEye> And just so you know, see where it says 'non-drowsy'? That's a fucking lie.
<Spinner_8> ...thanks, I guess.

<Sardius> Well...later on.
<TheRedEye> Bye, guys.

We shook hands one last time with Red and Billy, and then we turned and left.

And that was that.

...

I'm probably making it seem much sadder than it was.  Red was probably glad to have Spinner and me out of his hair by then.  But still, I'm going to miss him.  We had some good times, man.  Good times.

<Spinner_8> Is it just me, or is TheRedEye, like, the coolest guy ever?
<Sardius> Yes, I do believe he is.
<Sardius> It's like, I'm surprised he let us hang out with him and all.
<Sardius> Since we're so way below him on the coolness echelon and shit.

And so began our long, long journey back to Texas.

...

Yeah, so it's not nearly as interesting as the trip to Vegas was, but I'll try to briefly skip through it, because I want to finish up this fucking novel already.  I mean, Jesus, I'm on part 17 now?  How the hell did that happen?

Anyway.

Spinner drives and drives and drives.  We yak and yak and yak.  However, it's not long before sleepiness starts to get ahold of him.  At like 7:00 PM.  What the fuck.  But still, I'm not going to argue.  Let's pull over in a hotel in this town here...what's the town's name?

Wickenburg?  Seriously?  The same town we rested at after the first fucked-up night?  Fine.  Might as well sleep at that Best Western we slept at during the incoming trip, too.  Every single other element from this adventure has come full circle to bite me on the ass already, so why not.

So we pull in.  Spinner makes me pay for the room this time.  Grr.  Then we load our stuff into the room and Spinner crashes onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.  The snoring comes quick and loud.

And it's still light outside.

I guess our drunken antics the night before must've kept him from sleeping too well.  Poor baby.

<Spinner_8> actually, on the way back from vegas
<Spinner_8> from there to wickenburg consisted of this:
<Spinner_8> 1) YOU SLEEPING
<Spinner_8> 2) ME DRIVING

Regardless, though, what am I going to do?  I'm not tired in the least here.

...ooh, they've got HBO.

...

So there was my night, right there.

I didn't get HBO back home, see, so this would be my first exposure to it in a long time.  I was excited, too.  I mean, I'd finally be able to see these HBO shows that everyone's been talking about.  These critically acclaimed, edgy, innovative series that - by all claims - are the best uses of any media, ever.  And here I am in the perfect position to catch a whole bunch of them back-to-back.  Oboy!

So I watch.

...and about halfway through Six Feet Under, my mind starts to wander from boredom.  I start to think about better ways I could be spending my time.  Then I think about what I'm going to do when I get back home...

...CRAP.

Phone, where's the phone...

<Sardius> Heey, how's it going down there in Texas?
<Dad> Boy! I got a bone to pick with you!

Yeah, so I kinda told my family that I'd call them every day over the course of the trip, see.  Except the problem was that, like, I didn't.  So um, yeah.  Dad was almost considering the possibility of sending out a search party to look for me when I called him.  I guess everyone back home had been thinking that Spinner had murdered me and buried me somewhere in the Arizona desert or something.

Anyway, he was kinda pissed, but also relieved.  So we talk for a few minutes about a few things.

<Dad> So how'd the trip go? You still alive?
<Sardius> Fine, yeah. And I'm alive, but still a little woozy...
<Dad> What?
<Sardius> Oh, uh, nevermind.
<Dad> Anyway, yeah, you're going to have to tell me about all the titties
<Dad> uh I mean CITIES
<Dad> ...that you've been through and all, when you get back.
<Dad> Sorry, I'm watching HBO here. It's distracting.

Dad's awesome.

Anyway, we quickly wrap up the call (I called him collect), and I get back to watching overrated glorified sitcoms on HBO.  Ah well.  At least Dennis Miller's cool.

So after I have my fill of crap, I sleep.

---

Monday, August 12. ~10:00 AM.

---

Mmm, sleep.  Sleep is good.

Hey, Spinner's waking up too.  How about that.

<Sardius> GOOD MORNING, MARY SUNSHINE!
* Spinner_8 sits up in bed, then shoots Sardius an extremely perturbed look.

So yeah.  Usual wakeup routine here.  Shower.  Shave.  Change clothes.  Yep.  I read through my Digital Press guide some more while Spinner mentally prepares himself for another marathon drive.

<Spinner_8> What the hell were you watching last night, by the way?
<Sardius> HBO.
<Spinner_8> Ah, that explains it.

I can only wonder what kind of fucked-up porno he probably thought I was watching last night, after subconsciously absorbing for hours the sounds of the random INNOVATIVE cursing and EDGY sexual situations that HBO is infamous for.

...wow, that's the worst sentence ever.

<Sardius> You know, those HBO shows suck.
<Sardius> They get all these awards and everyone says they're great, but I wasn't impressed at all.
<Sardius> Like, Sex in the City is just like a regular stupid sitcom, except everyone talks about fucking constantly.
<Sardius> And Six Feet Under is just a soap opera, only the characters say 'fuck' all the time and there's lots of gay sex.
<Spinner_8> I...see. That sucks.
<Sardius> But hey, cursing and gay sex is EDGY. EDGY is good!
<Spinner_8> Hell, we say 'fuck' a lot.
<Spinner_8> We're EDGY. Why aren't we critically acclaimed and shit?
<Sardius> Fuck yeah, we're EDGY as hell. Where's our HBO show?
<Spinner_8> Yeah!
<Spinner_8> ...let's not do the gay sex thing, though, because that would be weird.
<Sardius> Agreed.

So.  We check out.  We get on the road.  It's morning.  We're hungry.  Need food.

...

Nothing could have prepared us for what happened next.  The infamous events that unfolded at this point...well, you'll see.

(What follows is pretty much a direct copy-and-paste job - with a few edits - from a post I made on the donut board a few months ago at Spinner's behest.  Yes, I'm lazy.  Anyway.)

<Sardius> Cracker Barrel.
<Spinner_8> FUCK yes.

So we exit off the highway and make our way to the Cracker Barrel, which, if you're unfamiliar with the establishment (and if you are, I pity you), is a restaurant that serves...well, lots of stuff.  Mostly southern country-like foodstuffs, only watered down a little to accommodate the typical normal person's pallet and stomach lining.  Chicken fried steak, fish, fried chicken, mashed potatoes...you know, all that.  So me and Spinner go in the thing, make our way through the knickknack store in front, and are seated.

Spinner orders - I *think* - chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and french fries?  I dunno.  Correct me if I'm wrong, man. I then order some fried fish, mashed potatoes, and corn.

The waitress then asks what we'd like to drink.  I quickly request my typical Coke.  Spinner, though, looks thoughtful for a second, then says

<Spinner_8> Do you have Dr Pepper here?
<Waitress> Yes, we do.
<Spinner_8> Gooood. I'll have that.

The waitress leaves, and we talk for a bit.  About the Dr Pepper, of course.  It's noted that not many eateries we had visited served Dr Pepper.  Only its vile second cousin, Mr Pibb.

(Three days earlier, at Fortune Cookie, the Chinese buffet)
<Waitress> ...and what would you like to drink?
<Spinner_8> (thinks) Do you have Dr Pepper here?
<Waitress> No, Mr Pibb. Is that all right?
<Spinner_8> NO

Dr Pepper is a recurring theme throughout our trip, actually.  An important one.  We actually visited a pornless, vomit-smelling Circle K in a bad part of Arizona (just down the street from THE ALASKAN BUSH COMPANY) at 4 AM once, just for the express purpose of obtaining a Dr Pepper.  And to look for porn, but that's neither here nor there.  The point is, Dr Pepper is very important to Spinner.  He loves the stuff.  It's his lifeblood.  This is emphasis.  Appreciate it.

So he's naturally happy to finally find a place that gives the drink the respect it deserves by making it available to customers.  Quite happy indeed.

Our food comes, and it's looking good.  We spend a few minutes in silence just gulping down our food as ravenously as possible, with the silence broken only by

<Spinner_8> HEY
<Spinner_8> That's MY biscuit. What the fuck are you doing?
<Sardius> Nonono, this is MY biscuit.
<Sardius> Biscuits come with my meal too, see. We're supposed to share this plate.
<Spinner_8> (not liking the idea) Mmhrm.

And it's delicious, all of it.  After satisfying his hunger a few minutes later, Spinner 8 is finally able to speak again.

<Spinner_8> Mmm.
<Spinner_8> You know.
<Spinner_8> Dr Pepper is good.
<Spinner_8> I mean, you can just, like, immediately tell when you're drinking Dr Pepper, like this.
* Spinner_8 takes a sip
<Spinner_8> Oh yeah. That's REAL Dr Pepper. Not that Mr Pibb crap.
<Spinner_8> You can just taste the difference. It's not as, you know, syrupy, and stuff.
<Spinner_8> Well, *I* can taste the difference, anyway. I just have that "refined taste" in me.
* Sardius is only half paying attention, and is instead pondering whether he can take that other biscuit without Spinner mauling him.

So it's an enjoyable meal all around. The food is excellent, and Spinner got his Dr Pepper. Life is good.

The waitress then comes around and asks if we want refills. We take her up on the offer.

As we wait for our drinks to come back, Spinner continues his ramblings.

<Spinner_8> I mean, come on, Mr Pibb just...
<Sardius> DOESN'T EVEN COMPARE?
<Spinner_8> Yeah, that. It doesn't even compare to Dr Pepper. Its excellence just cannot be duplicated.

One thing that I'm particularly proud of accomplishing during the trip is the fact that I eventually managed to cause a few Johnny Turbo-isms to be permanently embedded into Spinner 8's brain.  It's a small victory, but one that I am very proud of.

Anyway.  Our drinks come back, and along with them comes horror.

<Waitress> (to Sardius) Okay...you had the Coke?
<Sardius> Mmhmm. Thanks.
<Waitress> (to Spinner 8) ...and you had the Mr Pibb?

* deafening silence occurs for the next five seconds

<Spinner_8> (taken aback) ...uh, no?
<Spinner_8> I, uh, had the Dr Pepper, remember?

* more silence

<Waitress> Oh. Well, it tastes the same, don't it?
<Spinner_8> ...
* Waitress hands over the drink and walks away.
<Spinner_8> (weakly) ...no, it...doesn't?

You can imagine how Spinner 8 must have felt after this revelation occurred.  There he was, five minutes ago, calmly sipping away at what HE THOUGHT was his favorite drink.  Then, after a simple offhand statement from the waitress, it is revealed that he was not, in fact, drinking Dr Pepper.  He was actually drinking Mr Pibb.

You should've seen the pure terror that enveloped him while this unfolded - how the realization of what the waitress' statements implied gradually sunk in.  The color melted from his face, and I thought that he was going to faint.

The poor guy.

All of his praise heaped upon the drink, wasted.  All of his talk of "refined taste" immediately made null and void.  Everything he had known for certain about himself, completely and utterly destroyed.

I, as a true friend would, react appropriately and sympathetically.

<Sardius> ...
<Sardius> ...BAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA
<Sardius> ...
* Sardius takes a sip of soda
<Sardius> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
<Sardius> ...I MEAN, DUDE. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

So, as Spinner sat there sulking, his reality shattered, I laugh in his face.  Because I'm just a dick like that, see.

He doesn't discuss this incident much more.  He quickly consumes the rest of the meal, drinking from the tainted glass of bile as little as possible, then we get up, pay, and leave.

We're out the door when he says

<Spinner_8> ...you're going to tell everyone about this, aren't you?
<Spinner_8> On your website, and in the story.
<Sardius> Oh. Well, of course. I have to.
<Spinner_8> I was afraid of that...
<Spinner_8> Okay, how's this.
<Spinner_8> No more air conditioning for the entire trip home, unless you promise not to tell a soul about this.
<Sardius> Psh, yeah, sure. Come on, everyone's got to hear about this! About how your refined taste is bullshit and all.
<Spinner_8> Okay. Fine.

So we get in the car and pull out of the parking lot.

He turns off the air conditioner.

...

<Sardius> W, wait...what the fuck are you doing?!
<Sardius> Oh, what, you were serious?
* Spinner_8 nods. Gravely.
<Sardius> Aw...man!
<Sardius> Well, I can live without it. It's for the good of history. The story must be told.

* fifteen seconds pass

<Sardius> OKAY OKAY I PROMISE REALLY PLEASE TURN ON AIR CONDITIONER NOW
<Spinner_8> Really? Promise?
<Sardius> YES YES AIR CONDITIONER
<Spinner_8> Cross your heart and hope to die? (and etc.)
<Sardius> YES. CROSS MY HEART. HOPE MY MOM DIES. YES.
<Sardius> FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TURN THE AC BACK ON
* Spinner_8 turns on the air conditioner
<Sardius> ..............aaaahhhhhhhhhh.
<Spinner_8> Now remember, you promised.
<Sardius> Yes I did, and I'll keep that promise. Just keep the AC running, though.
<Sardius> I mean, Christ, man. Seriously.

And true to my word, I kept my promise.  Until I didn't have to worry about having the air conditioner in Spinner's car turned off anymore.  The end.

Thus, the word was spread about what is now referred to as The Cracker Barrel Incident.  I was glad to see that Spinner's online associates reacted to it just how I'd hoped they would.

<mdw> man
<mdw> you know what i want?
<mdw> a big glass of MR. PIBB
<dark-fighter> HAHAHAHAHA
<dark-fighter> spinner has such REFINED TASTES

I've never been prouder of myself.

->On to Part 18
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