Mike Brown: Destruction

Illustration: Ruckus Art

There are some stories I just cannot share with SLUG readers. Not because I don’t want to—my fingers yearn to type a trail of madness for you all to enjoy—but sometimes the emotional and legal ramifications that a public, published piece regarding destruction could potentially cause isn’t worth the gamble. But as time goes on, the heat dies down, the evidence becomes more admissible and the story becomes safer to publish.

This is one such story. I’ll still have to leave out some of the details, but I’ll try to entertain you nonetheless. Lately, I’ve been writing a lot about destruction—whether it be of my kitchen via my February article or my dating life via my March article. I think I’ll keep the theme going.

This particular night occurred about six or seven years ago with my friend Alex. Let me tell you a little bit about him first. Alex has since moved to the Big Apple and has taken to the hipster lifestyle unlike anyone I am still friends with. Highlights of his current lifestyle include making it in the Vice Magazine ‘Do’s’ (although he’s a total ‘Don’t’) and eating out Harrison Ford’s daughter. Both true. In fact, last time I communicated with Alex was when he texted me to let me know about shoving his tongue in Han Solo’s daughter’s holy grail. (Whoa! See what I just did there? Two Harrison Ford movie references in one sentence!)

Another fun fact about Alex is when I managed a snowboard shop, he was one of my employees and I had to fire him for showing up to work still drunk. Ironic, I know, but please keep in mind his shift started at noon and my policy with all employees was you could show up to your job hung over, but you couldn’t show up still drunk. [Editors’ Note: Mike Brown has shown up still drunk to SLUG sales meetings.]

Anyway, back to our night of destruction about six or seven years ago. We were both particularly frustrated with life—about what I can’t exactly remember. I’m sure mine was over a woman—don’t know Alex’s reasons, but either way, life decided to kick us both in the balls at the same time. So we decided to kick life back in the form of vandalism and drinking, in no particular order.

We were at the nudie bar on a slow night. Since we were mad we were crumpling up our dollar bills or folding them into little airplanes before throwing them at the strippers. Strippers don’t like that, BTW. There was a table full of meatheads adjacent to us and they didn’t like Alex’s hair. I didn’t like his hair either—he had the worst, grossest dreadlocks ever at the time.

Words were exchanged, I remember Alex saying, “Fuck you! Cheese dick!” to the man who commented on his hair. A losing fight on our side seemed imminent and then the bouncers stepped in and kicked us out. We were pissed because they started it. Fucking meatheads.

We walked behind the nudie bar to take a piss. We were pissing by the dumpster and my drunken intuition made me go through their garbage. I was dragging a garbage bag up the street for some unknown reason when the bag ripped. And guess what was in there? A paint roller with fresh paint on it.

I looked at Alex and told him this was a divine sign—we had a chance to get back at the guys who got us kicked out of the nudie bar. I told Alex we should paint their cars. Alex agreed. There were only a couple cars in the parking lot, so there was a good chance that whatever car I decided to paint would belong to one of those guys.

So I rolled up to this black SUV and painted the passenger side windows and half the windshield, then hid in some bushes with Alex. I had Alex call up some broad to pick us up. And we watched with the giddiness of a fat rich kid on Christmas morning as one of the cheese dicks was staring at his SUV, yelling, “Who the FUCK paints a fucking car!!!?” I do motherfucker, that’s who.

As we got in the girl’s car, we insisted she drive fast and we couldn’t stop laughing. So she was like, “What did you guys do?” and when we were finally done giggling, we told her that we painted some dickhead’s car. We were quite proud of ourselves. The girl didn’t find the same entertainment factor in all of this and kicked us out of her car in the middle of downtown.

We walked back to my place and broke as much shit as we could on the walk home. I have no idea how or why the cops weren’t involved in this night. We even threw some stuff off of some elevated platforms to watch them break. I guess sometimes you just gotta break something.

Illustration: Ruckus Art