Trailer Park Boys: Fear and Loathing at Goldie's Bornt Day

The Day the Pepperoni Cocks Fucked Off

The flyers were spread out all over the park by Thursday morning with big bright come fuck me letters stating: Come celebrate Goldie the Gold Fish's Bornt Day, a 4 day celebration with weed, hash, shooters as well as chicken fingers, the really good ones and fresh full grown pepperoni cocks for all. I was in my 30th Season in Sunnyvale, living the greasy dream by pulling in the greasy money in Nova Scotia's most notorious trailer park. I was getting customers, making money and swiping liquor from that fuck Lahey's for to gooder up business and gooder my trailer park pals. I had even recently finally teamed up with Steve French, the giant mountain lion who was a little kitty at heart and was mixed up because he was hooked on the weed.

So when word got out that Ricky was going to throw his pet goldfish Goldie a Bornt Day party, I ran out to get what every fish wanted in there hearts of fishy hearts: an arc welder, which I was able to get off of Corey for cheap, was in a Christmas box. If there was one thing I knew after moving to Sunnyvale Trailer Park 5 months ago was that when Ricky threw a party with help from Julian and Bubbles, it would be bigger than the 12 days of Christmas in Jail and higher than the 42 days of 420. I tucked my RSVP into the sidecar of the Swayzie Express and sent it up the track to behind Bubble's sheds. Then, after running some cash to the bank from Ricky's Gently Used Gas because I was still 6 cards away from getting Ellen Page's character to Level 7, I lit a 6 paper spliff of Winnipeg Wendigo and started puffing my way down the road to the King of Donair for a light supper of donair, donair pizza, donair poutine with a side of donair egg rolls.

I awoke behind the King of Donair by the dumpster with this stringy grey dog licking the piss out of my face. I was grateful for this until I surmised it was the dog that had put the piss there in the first place. On my phone was a notice from Sunnyvale about one of the mandatory updates. Lahey had been mentioning that the park was going to update again, but I had figured he was just 8 out of 10 drunk by that point. So I spent the morning sitting with that dog, waving away dump bees and deleting Grateful Dead ringtones and pictures of my nieces playing with their robot cats to make room for the big update. Or at least it seemed big, the biggest difference was the park was going to be accessible now with Facebuck. There was a promise of extra liquor to steal if you brought Facebuck friends with you to swipe liquor from Lahey's car. Hell, I usually did that anyway just to have some dicks for jail cover and I sure as fuck wasn't going to go on Facebuck. Facebuck was this strange place full of pictures of food where people are under constant surveillance from themselves, sort of like 1984 except without the release of Kim Mitchell's Akimbo Alogo album.

So back I went to Sunnyvale, my hash stained blue hockey jersey shining in the temperate Atlantic August sun, the sound of seagulls and passing cars in the distance. However, in my way was a great big wall, one that went all the way around the park. Written in spray paint on the front of where the main entrance used to be was the words: "All Dum Fones Fuck Off, Trayer Park Sopervisar." Alright, whatever, just let me in to that gigantic stash of hash coins so that I could pop a couple to send the next few hours to fuck off town and wake up ready to smoke my way through Goldie's Birthday. Goddamn that fish could party.

So knock knock. Knock knock. Knock fucking knock. No answer. Fuck. So I walked around to the east side of the wall, as I knew that is where technical support would be, as that was taking over by the East Side awhile ago. I knocked on the frosted glass and an outline of a unicorn appeared behind it.

"Hey there, my name is Sunny Rain. So you can't get into the park, huh?"

"Yes and I do need to get back in, as I need to gooder the park by spreading liquor around and get ready for Goldie's Big Day."

"Well, that is dead solid perfect, but the park's new update has increased the memory requirements. What is your memory size?"

"What was the question again, whats-your-name?"

"Ok, well, it may be your are lacking the sufficient resources to live in Sunnyvale anymore."

"What the fuck are you gum flapping about? Sufficient resources? I have made over 800 pisstillion dollars alone this week with just the honey oil factory alone. Sufficient resources? I have over 989 liquor built up just over the last 24 hours that I need to gooder Roc Vodka with right now to get them blinkety lights going that the liquor people like to get fucked to. Sufficient resources? This is a trailer park for fuck's sake."

"Well, the East Side of the park is always working on improving support for lower-end devices like yours in the future. Now if you excuse me, the immoral pinball machines are about to be delivered for the party."

"Fuck me to tears, this has something to do with the access to Facebuck, isn't it?"

Dead silence from the other side of the wall.

"Come on, let me in, I want to play."

The outline of some little fucker with glasses and a hot cup of coffee appeared behind the frosted glass.

"My name is Dank Hill. Please press your phone against the glass.

I leaned against the glass with the phone against it. I heard the sounds of coffee behind sipped behind the frost.

"It looks like that phone is on the lower end of the spectrum. It will probably struggle to work here."

"Then let me back in so I can grab the 400 Fucktillion dollars I will need to go buy one!"

"Sorry, I wish I could be of more help! Cheers!"

"Come on, this phone worked fine in Sunnyvale for 30 seasons. Can I come in without having to bring the Facebuck?

Dead silence from the other side of the wall.

I lit up a joint of Manitoba Mushroom Cloud and stood staring at the wall around my beloved trailer park.

"What the fuck!" Screamed Donnie in the distance, "I just spent $24.99 on $120 worth of liquor and hash coins for Goldie's Party and now I am a fucking a lower-end device? Let me back in my fucking trailer, I don't even do Facebuck!"

As the pot smoke filled my lungs and my brain veered suddenly to the left, it began to rain.