Prey for the Hunted

When people think of partying they probably think of the epic hollywood parties of California or the Hipster parties of NYC, but Waterloo Canada seems to be trying to put itself on the party map. On a regular Wednesday night a fun loving chap in Waterloo is taking the term party to a whole new level. James Boppre is an ex-con out on house arrest for drunk driving and weapons charges, and he has decided that this particular Wednesday is something worth celebrating. Despite his previous troubles with alcohol he starts his party by rounding up some cheap whiskey which promptly got him in the proper mood for the good times ahead. The next part of his night would require some wheels so he got in his trusty old pick up, the D.U.I mobile, and hit up all the Waterloo hot spots looking for some female company. He found a charming young lass at an agreeable rate who was also looking to party. At this point our captain and his new hooker friend drunk drive around town to find something hard enough to permanently revoke his house arrest status.

Score! They find some crack and begin the enchanting yet tawdry dance known as the high off my ass hooker hula. For even the hardest partyers among us this party would appear to be in full swing, but for Captain Canada he is not content to let this night end like every other Wednesday binge. He starts the truck, butt naked, and with crack smoke pouring from his nostrils he mashes the throttle. As he reaches warp speed, blowing stop lights, and swerving from lane to lane he commands his escort to start masturbating. This party is officially at 11, spearheaded by a drunk, cracked out, naked, nascar imitating, hillybilly with a raging boner. Basically he is the greatest threat to motorists in the history of paved roads.

To no one’s surprise within minutes Captain Canada blows through the apex of a crucial left hand turn and drives over a median coming to rest with the DUI mobile sodomizing some poor parked Honda accord.

Our naked hero flees on foot with little regard for the well being of his trusty masturbatory sidekick. As he runs into the wood several on lookers note his route and provide it to the police who are in hot pursuit. James is found only a few hundred feet into the woods in what his small tortured brain figured was a perfect hiding spot.

Some may say lock this guy up for being a public menace, I say get a marketing team behind him and you could have the biggest name in Whiskey since Johnnie Walker.

Read the slightly less sensational account HERE