DR. RESEARCH'S BIKER FERRY TRIP

 Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, you must be Dr. Research. I swear, he has such a mild-mannered demeanor that he can play me for a sucker with impugnity. Last time, he took me to what was supposed to be Bingo at the Elks Lodge, and it was a snuff movie audition. Today, he told me were going to Pungo to sketch, and like a fool I believed him, until he breezed right through Pungo at 65, pulling a giant "spliff" out of his shirt pocket and putting fire to it. "Sour Diesel," he croaked, holding in the smoke. "Grown indoors, but it'll dissolve your nerve endings into a tarry residue not unlike that found in the heel crack of a biker's boot, if you get my drift." He passed me the reefer. "Toke up, bud," he said. "You'll need it where we're going." "But--isn't this illegal?" I stammered. "Hey, I'm a doctor," he winked. "Haven't you ever heard of medical marijuana?" Before I could answer, we squealed to a halt at the foot of the Currituck ferry. All around us were large tricked-out motorcycles and their scruffy riders. "Toe Bandit!" Doc shouted out the window. "Puffknuckle! Stink-Jello! Cry Baby! Chicken Strips! What's the haps!" One of the bikers sauntered over and leaned in the window. "What's up, Doc?" he queried and eyed me. "What have we got in here, some fresh meat?" "You got it, konky wacker," chuckled Doc. "Wh--what's going on here?" I stammered. "Takin a biker ferry ride, homes," smiled Doc. "Gonna mess with the squares." And with that, he popped out of the car and sauntered up to the burgundy Toyota Camry in front of us. "Hey Pops!" he shouted at the elderly gentleman at the wheel, "let me clean your glasses for you!" He snatched the man's glasses and threw them to the ground, smashing them with his boot heels. "There you go," he said as he handed the broken, twisted glasses back to the stunned old man. "Maybe now you can see what's happening," Doc smirked as he sauntered back to his car. "Ha ha ha ha ha", laughed all the bikers. "D--doc!" I stammered. "What's that?" Doc barked. "Did I hear something from the Peanut Gallery?" "N--no, never mind," I stammered. "That's what I thought," Doc sneered as he sauntered onto the ferry. "Ha ha h

Okay, that's enough, I'm caught in a tangled web of lies. Sure, we went down to the Currituck ferry, and yes, there were bikers on it, but none of the rest is true. Well, Doc did smash an old man's glasses, and he did smoke a joint, and he did call the bikers by their nicknames, but the rest is exaggeration, and I'm very sorry for it.

Oh, and he didn't take me to a snuff movie audition instead of Bingo at the Elks Club. It was just for an ordinary porn movie.