by Sharkey Malarky
So, Clockclean Er, Tell Us A Story
A couple years ago, I lived in Cleveland. And if you can believe it, I was a bigger pain in the ass then than I am now. I was 19 or 20, I had no couth and no conscience. There’s no way to get around it—I was an asshole. I lived with Steve Peffer from the Homostupids and Nine Shocks Terror. When I first moved there, it was me, Steve and this kid Scott [Names were assuredly changed in this story—Ed.]. He was kind of an enormous pussy. Like a Sophie B. Hawkins fan. He ended up eventually moving out of our house, because [we] were constantly drunk and busting his balls. A couple months later Steve decides to move in with Scott because he had a really nice house and offered him a nice room. Steve moves out and goes on tour in Europe. While he’s on tour, Scott gets the bright idea to kick Steve out for some stupid little reason. He didn’t pay a $75 phone bill or something. He kicked Steve out when he could do nothing about it. Steve ends up moving back in with me and we’re like, “Yo, we should fuck with him.” But I was like, “Dude, if you fuck with him, people will know it’s you. Just let me handle it.”
The house that Scott moved into was about three blocks down the street from us. In the middle of our houses was an enormous white wall that he had to drive by every day to get to work. So I took a can of spraypaint and went up to this wall at three in the morning, shit-faced, and as large as the wall—it was like the size of a billboard—wrote “SCOTT BAKERMAN IS A FAGGOT.” His full name. As clear as day. Crystal clear. Of course he drives by it the next morning and freaks out—we hear it from friends that are friends of friends. A couple days later that gets buffed off the wall by the city. So, I’m like, “Fuck it, I’m gonna do it again.” Take the spraypaint, go up there, I take his girlfriend’s full name: “PATTI MCLELLAN HAS A DICK.” We’re all standing on the porch waiting for him to drive by on the way to work. He just drives by furious! You could see him freaking out in his car, speeding down the road.
One night, it was three in the morning, I was like, “I’m gonna seal the nail in this coffin and fuck Scott up for a little bit.” He’d been leaving his car windows open and down like an idiot. So I went and reached in and stuck airplane glue into his key ignition and filled his ignition with glue and his car locks with glue. I get home [from work] the next day and I go to my answering machine and there is the fucking best answering machine message I’ve ever heard in my life.
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